#reader is poc

your eyes flit open for half a moment before rolling back in your head again. he grunts over you, a hand leaving your hip to wrap around your neck, his thumb and pointer finger squeezing your cheek so your lips purse loosely. his eyes zero in on the way your tits are barely in the tank top you're in, nipples peaking up over the fabric.

"can't hear you, sexy. he fuck you this hard, huh? this deep?" his hips rut against yours harder, his thick pubic hair lighting soft fireworks against your clit, the friction making your calves protest against his broad shoulders. "he fuck you this good? tell me."

your lips part to speak, and you try. you really do try to offer him a word of disagreement. another sharp, expectant thrust knocks the wind out of you and a loud moan along with it. he just shakes his head, picking his tempo up and forcing the truck to rock a little quicker.

"i"ll take that as a no. fuck, baby. bet you've never creamed this much in your life.." he mutters more to himself than you, barely acknowledging how practically braindead you are from pleasure. his other hand leaves your hip, instead peeling your hands off his chest and holding them down to press on your own stomach, feeling the outline of his cock rubbing your palm through the thick skin of your stomach.

"i can't- i'm gonna—" your voice barely hits his ears, his eyes falling closed as he feels your pussy close down on him. his head falls backward, his hips stuttering for half a moment before he continues his pace, pushing a little tougher against your tight cunt.

"come on, baby. give it to me, come on mama. cum on me." his voice falters, brows furrowing as he holds back his own load, too focused on hitting your g-spot over and over again.

clark leans back, spreading his legs open wider on the couch so you can settle between them, your mouth slack as you readjust on your knees. his abs clench over and over as you lower your head and flatten your tongue on his cock.

"oh my— slow down, baby. dont– hah! dont huuuurt yourself down there, okay? holy—" clark's fingers grip at the edge of the couch as he tries to maintain some level of composure. you were currently high, sucking his cock languidly because having something warm in your drooling mouth helped you ground yourself a bit. up and down like it's all you can do, your mouth subconsciously getting wetter and wetter the more you hold it open. clark didn't want you to at first, what with your head being up in the clouds, but you batted your pretty glossy eyes at him and he folded. like warm laundry.

"baby, you— not that far down— huugh.." clark moaned pathetically into the dim light of your living room, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat as you softly choked around him. his leg muscles tighten, and his chest heaves as his hands finally leave the edge of the couch, pushing you down a bit further until your nose is buried in his curly pubes. clark let out a groan, thrusting softly as his load shot back in your throat, his hands shaking as he finally came down, letting you go.

Those two had been together for years now. It was because of Seokjin that Hoseok was even in Los Angeles. Jin could just as easily be the leader of Bangtan. He had two years on Namjoon, who was his cousin. But Namjoon had grown up in this city, knew its inner workings better and had a grander vision for their operations. So even though he could have challenged for the top spot upon Namjoon's fathers death, he never considered it, more than happy to play second in command, especially when Namjoon's leadership proved to be collaborative. They rarely disagreed in ways that truly mattered.

"It's not about going easy on her. I only want to test her loyalty, not her life. It isn't worth putting her life in real danger before we even know what her true value is," Namjoon reasoned.

"Can't we assume enough about her loyalty from things with Taehyung?" Hoseok wondered. He still wasn't clear on the whole situation. Nothing you did made sense to him. 

Namjoon shook his head thoughtfully. "I don't think that has anything to do with loyalty. I think he frightens her, and she has to show she isn't afraid of him. It's her fight. I don't think it will impact her actions for us."

Hoseok scoffed.

"The point is, we won't know until we test her, and Namjoon is right. Her loyalty won't do us any good if we put her into a position to get herself killed. Let her earn our trust and when she finds out we're looking out for her wellbeing, she'll trust us. Things will solidify. All you have to do is drive the car," Seokjin reminded the subordinate. 

"Fine," Hoseok agreed. 

"Good. Go and let her know we'd like to speak with her. She should be in the gym with Jungkook."

Your eye hadn't swollen shut at least, so it was decided that you would be able to complete a mission tonight. Despite being a little sore from the previous day, you were up early in the gym with Kook. He managed to convince you to use gloves and train with mitts instead of hitting each other. He wouldn't admit it but you had left some bruises with your hits the day before. So he called out combinations as the two of you danced around the gym. He was exhausting you, but you refused to quit until he did. Then Hoseok came to your rescue. 

He stood silently, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the door jam as you jabbed, ducked and pursued Jungkook through the room for several minutes. Finally, Jungkook gave you a break. You hadn't even seen the other man standing there until Jungkook straightened up and tapped your shoulder and nodded in his direction. 

"What's up, hyung?" Jungkook panted as he removed the mitts from his hand so he could grab a bottle of water. 

"Boss wants to see you," Hoseok said flatly, nodding in your direction.

"Okay," you managed as you tried to fill your lungs with air. Hoseok was momentarily distracted by the rise and fall of your glistening chest as you removed your boxing gloves. You didn't see it, but Jungkook certainly did, smirking to himself, a small laugh escaping that brought Hoseok's attention back. 

"Now," Hoseok said more sharply. 

"Ya voy," you mumbled as you grabbed a towel to wipe your sweat and a water bottle before walking toward the slim man.

Hoseok held out his hand, inviting you to go ahead of him, forcing you to squeeze past him through the doorway. You tried to pat yourself dry as you walked down the hallway toward the stairs. As he watched you walk in front of him, ponytail bouncing with each step, he noticed the end of a scar, an inch or two, peeking out from beneath the fabric of your tank top on your brown shoulder. He thinks about the way Taehyung mentioned your scars the other day when you were explaining your past. There must be more of them. He wondered how many, and how they might compare to his own. His hand lifted involuntarily, like he was going to touch it before he came to his senses and lowered the rebellious hand. He cleared his throat to shake off his own awkwardness and you turned around to recognize him, but he only stared at you blankly, so you turned back and walked up the stairs. His foolish eyes couldn't look anywhere but at your ass as he climbed ahead of him and he almost tripped on a couple of steps. 

When you finally arrived at Namjoon's office, he was the only one there. Seokjin was gone without you ever even knowing he had been there, on about his business as he always seemed to be, a bit aloof from the others in the few days of observation you'd had. When you entered Namjoon didn't sit, so neither did you or Hoseok. The latter stood between you and the door, creating the feeling of trapping you. His face told nothing, but Namjoon wasn't fond of Hoseok's methods for dealing with you; didn't like the way Hoseok was crowding you. 

He was making a show of testing you and proving your loyalty, but the truth was, Namjoon wanted to protect you, no questions asked. The only reason he didn't was because he knew how it would look, to you and to the others. He knew you would hate the claustrophobia of the kind of protection he was capable of offering you, and he knew that you would run. He couldn't treat you like something as delicate and precious as you were. The moment you'd entered his office the first time he knew you were more broken than you would ever admit. Your facade was a fine porcelain mask you'd glued back together so many times in so many places that the cracks had begun to look like the design rather than marks of tragedy. As if you were made to be broken. But you weren't, and Namjoon would like to see that nothing broke you again. 

Namjoon also knew what his men would see if he simply gave you all he wanted to. You had been Taehyung's woman. Not in the way the younger man had meant it, but in the way that would make it disrespectful for anyone else to provide for you. And even as you pushed Taehyung farther and farther out of the picture, the others might see him as weak or indecent if he moved too fast in his affections for you. He had to play it cool, even when he felt anything but. 

He certainly didn't feel cool when you walked in, skin still flushed from your exercise. But he hid it well. Even when you bowed the way Jungkook had taught you earlier, and he could see the depth of your cleavage, his features stayed perfectly schooled. 

"What do you need, boss?" You asked evenly, ignoring the way Hoseok standing behind you had your hackles up. 

Namjoon quirked an eyebrow at you. "Calling me boss already? When I haven't even given you a job?"

Your fingers twisted anxiously in the towel you were holding, and it didn't escape Namjoon's notice. Were you afraid he was about to toss you out?

"I just picked up on the fact that you all use titles a lot, and so it seemed wrong to address you as Namjoon, so…" You trailed off. Usually you were much more confident when you spoke to him. Even Hoseok could see from his position behind you how you shifted nervously on your feet. 

"You can call me by my name, Val," he said calmly. Namjoon wasn't overly concerned about formalities, as long as everyone behaved properly otherwise. Nevertheless, the fact that you were trying to observe their customs to the best of your ability, that little bow you did earlier, touched him in a way he didn't expect. It almost seemed like the kind of thing you'd do if you wanted to stay for a long time. But he was getting too far ahead of himself. "It just so happens that I do have a job for you."

At that you noticeably perked up. Your nervous tics stopped and your back straightened. "What do you need?"

"You said you were a thief, right?" 

You nodded. "I have some experience with things that aren't mine, yeah," you smirked. You never particularly liked stealing things for Joaquin, but if that was all you would have to do to prove yourself to Namjoon, then it was just too easy. 

"Good, because what I want you to take is something that belongs to me."

"What is it?"

Namjoon took one hand out of his pocket and waved you forward toward the desk between you. He slid a picture over the smooth surface for you to look at. You took a moment to look over the object in the photograph: a small statue, less than a foot tall. The longer you examined it the more sure Namjoon was that you had no idea what exactly you were looking at. It wasn't hard to guess with your biography that you had little interest in or knowledge of art. But you didn't need to in order to complete the mission. You just had to memorize what it looked like. 

"Do you know what this is?" Namjoon asked after a moment. 

"A statue?" It wasn't a wrong answer.

"Yes. A very old and valuable one. The Triads stole it from me, and I need you to get it back." Namjoon looked down his nose at you as you straightened up, looking up at him from the picture. 

"Just this one little statue?" Namjoon nodded his head. "Do you know where it is?"

"I believe it is in the home of one of their leaders. A greedy man with a taste for expensive art. He has a vast personal collection." Namjoon looked over your shoulder to Hoseok when he stretched his neck a certain way he always did when he was annoyed.

"When will we be able to strike?" You asked confidently.

"I know for a fact that he'll be out of the house tonight on business. You'll have a window of time. Hoseok will drive you, but you'll have to go in and complete the mission alone."

"What's the catch?" You smirked. 

"No catch," Namjoon answered, not missing Hoseok's eye roll. "Just get in, get the statue, and bring it back to me."

"What's security like? If this guy has a fucking at museum in his house, he must be guarding it, right?" Hoseok's eyebrows lifted, just slightly impressed you thought that through. 

"Nothing ostentatious. Just two armed guards. From what I've heard, your skills should get you through them just fine."

Namjoon leaned over to open a side drawer in his large desk and reached inside. "You'll be needing this." He handed you a brand new phone. "Yoongi said you lost your old one. You'll need this from now on for me to contact you."

He didn't let on that it would be a way to monitor you, though he didn't want it to come to that. Then again you weren't stupid. Namjoon really wanted to believe that you were here for the reasons you'd told all of them. He was sure you'd prove yourself. He hoped he wouldn't need a cell phone to communicate with you because you'd always be safe inside his home. But he knew that was a bit unrealistic. 

"Thanks," you murmured as you felt the weight of it in your hands. He watched as some unreadable thoughts crossed your mind before you turned to Hoseok. "Anything else?"

Hoseok's sharp eyes snapped to your face. "We leave at nine." He spoke so rigidly it seemed his hard set jaw didn't even move. And then he walked away without being dismissed by Namjoon

"Hoseok is…" the leader searched for the right words. 

"Happy to have me here. I know," you grumbled as you slid the phone into the pocket of your tight pants. 

"It isn't you. Bangtan is all Hoseok has. He's wary of outsiders. But I'm sure you'll gain his trust as you'll gain mine. He just needs time."

"Yeah, sure, trust," you repeated vaguely. 

Hoseok didn't even address you when you reached the bottom of the stairs. He scrutinized your outfit silently, not finding enough fault to bother criticizing you, but not impressed either. Your black jeans, black combat boots and black tank top under a black jacket might have been a little too on the nose of "I'm going to steal your shit" for his taste.

"What? You want me to wear a leather catsuit?" You snarked. Jungkook laughed through his nose. Hoseok's lip almost twitched with a smile. English wasn't either of your first languages, but you were still funny, and somehow that annoyed him. 

Without responding, he went for the door, leading you out to one of the sleek, black Genesis G70s they used for business. 

"Good luck, Val," Yoongi said softly. 

You pause with your hand on the door to give him a smile. "Thanks, oppa," you replied, grateful for his trust and support, even when you hadn't earned it. 

You took quick steps to catch up with Hoseok and get around to the passenger side of the car so he wouldn't have to wait for you and have one more reason to treat you like the most irritating person he'd ever met. 

He'd made you think for a few moments last night that he was open to knowing you, but today he'd put those feelings to bed. Namjoon was right. It wasn't your fault. He didn't trust outsiders. It was his job not to. And truth be told he didn't trust women. 

Not in like, he didn't trust women to do their jobs or he thought they were only good for sex. He didn't trust them anywhere near him. Hoseok was the definition of mommy issues, and that wasn't really his fault, but it was hardly yours either. Your recent actions with Taehyung only made him more wary of you, of your fecklessness and dependability. He'd found you amusing at first when he thought you'd only be on the periphery, a factor of Taehyung's life, not the whole gang. Now you seemed to threaten his whole life, and you were obnoxiously alluring while you did it. Even if half your face was mottled with purple-black bruises.

The car was silent as Hoseok drove down Santa Monica boulevard. He didn't play any music or say a word to you practically the whole way. If one of the others had taken you it would have been different. He'd noticed the easy, humorous rapport you'd already established with the maknae. No doubt you and Jungkook would be bantering happily if he were accompanying you on this mission. Had it been Taehyung obviously it would have been more tense, but he doubted it would be silent. Hoseok did nothing to put you at ease or boost your confidence, but it didn't seem like you needed it. If you were nervous, you hid it well. You simply watched the bright colorful lights pass by on the street outside under the tall palm trees, as if you were going to enjoy the late summer night at one of the many restaurants on the boulevard instead of going off to commit a crime in the home of a dangerous man. The fact it didn't unsettle you at all was itself a bit unsettling. Hoseok had seen your nervousness this afternoon. He'd seen fear in you the other day. Right now, you seemed perfectly at ease from what he could see in your body language and the discolored side of your face that was visible to him when he looked over at you without you knowing. He continued to say nothing until he brought the car to a stop in a wealthy neighborhood in Santa Monica. 

"The house is that one up there." Hoseok nodded up the street a few houses away. "You'll want to go in the back. You'll have to subdue the guards, but try not to kill anyone. Not in the mood to clean up your mess tonight."

"I haven't killed anyone," you reminded him. "Recently," you added, mumbling under your breath.

"Here." Hoseok disregarded your comments, holding out a small pistol to you.

"I don't need that." You sounded very sure yet also very nervous.

"Just in case," he shrugged.

"I don't want it."

"Just take it," he growled, pushing it further toward you. You stared at the weapon in his hand for a moment before you sighed heavily. You checked to make sure the safety was on before you slipped it into the back of your belt.

"Anything else?" You grumbled, looking away from him, pretending to just be scanning the street.

"Phone," he demanded with his thin, long hand held out, palm up. You fished it out of your pocket and handed it over. Hoseok began typing in his number when it appeared, pre-programmed into your device by Namjoon so you'd be able to contact any one of them if you needed to. Hoseok felt that was a bit presumptuous, but he squashed his inner voice, reminding himself that Namjoon was his leader and he owed him loyalty and trust in his judgement. He tried to swallow down that fact as he hit the call button, answering it on his own device before he handed yours back to you.

"Stay on the call, whatever you do, but don't speak to me unless you absolutely must. This shouldn't take you more than ten minutes."

"Sure. You done?"

"Yeah." His tone was equally exasperated as your own. 

"Lovely." You pushed open the car and got out without another look in his direction.

Hoseok watched you walk past the house he had parked in front of to the one he signaled, going casually, like you belonged here and not like someone about to break in. Luckily the street was fairly quiet and there was enough foliage and darkness to hide you. You turned a corner and he lost sight of you, only able to hear what you were doing from the phone inside your jacket pocket, but he was familiar enough with the surroundings to imagine where you were and what you were doing. He heard a quiet grunt and then feet on pavement, so he guessed you'd jumped over the gate leading to the front door. He hoped you'd take cover soon and felt better when he heard the rustling of leaves. You were being too loud and it irritated him to no end. He cursed you under his breath and then had to check to make sure he was on mute so you wouldn't hear him. At first when you went silent he was relieved—at least you had stopped making so much noise. But when one minute turned into two he started to feel anxious. He told himself it was just his desire to control the situation, to be doing it in your place instead of uselessly listening. You should be moving by now. It wasn't a requirement to pass this mission, but he expected you to be quick, like he would've been. His legs ached to take action. Suddenly you moved, more quietly this time. He could hear footsteps, but they were too heavy to be yours, so you must have found a guard. The sound of grunting and a strangled struggle confirmed his thoughts, and he wondered if you were choking the man from behind with your belt the way you did with the rope the other night, or if you were managing it with just your arms. A moment later, the sound of something heavy dropping to the ground and then nothing again. Half a minute passed with hardly any sound at all, and then the faint click of a door. 

You were inside. 

He listened closely, trying to pick up on your quiet footsteps and guess where you were in the house. Perhaps you looked around the foyer, the living room, got a peek inside the kitchen. For one solid minute he listened to you go from room to room directionlessly, making almost no sound at all, and while that was for the best it had him absolutely on edge. Then finally, the sound of your boots on the stairs, going down. 

Good girl. 

Maybe you took a lucky guess, maybe it was instincts, but either way you were heading in the right direction. He knew that downstairs was where the bulk of this man's art was stored, a personal museum built to his personal tastes. Rustling filled the speaker, like you are taking the phone out of your pocket, maybe to use as a flashlight. If you could remember what the object looked like he was sure you'd find it any second. Your footsteps stopped for a few seconds, and he heard a quiet, happy sigh. 

Eight minutes gone and your mission was half complete. You still had to get out and there was still one guard out there. Footsteps going up the stairs now, but not quite to freedom.

"Fuck," he heard you beathe when you reached the top of the stairs. Hoseok's hands twitched for the door handle to get out and go to you, but he controlled himself. More rustling and then utter silence until. Whack. The sound of the butt of Hoseok's pistol to the second guard's thick skull. Finally, homefree. Confident now, with two guards down, you strode triumphantly to the front door. He heard it open and then.

Slow clapping.

Honestly, Seokjin can be so dramatic sometimes, he thinks.

Your attempts at subtlety obviously went out the window as Hoseok hears you stumble back. 

"Oh, please, put the gun down, Val," he heard Jin's voice. "We both know you won't shoot me."

A beat and then: "So this is your house. This was all a set up? This whole trial is fake?"

"Namjoon thought it would be best if you were never in any actual danger. But don't worry, you completed your mission. I'm sure he'll be pleased with the way you've played his little game," Seokjin's voice was velvety, over the top, and it let his right hand man know that he wasn't impressed by this so-called trial either. But that was never the point, was it?

"Right. Well, I better get back then," your disembodied voice sounded equally irritated by the farce you'd been forced to act out. 

"Ah. Before you leave, that is mine."

You laughed. "Namjoon said the man who had this stole it from him. My guess is that neither of you are the rightful owner, but I'm going to give it to Namjoon regardless."

"Cmon, hand it over."

Whatever action the man made must have displeased you because the next thing Hoseok heard was the click of the hammer going into the ready position. 

"Move," you ordered. Hoseok had never heard you sound like that. Cold. Even. No shake, no fear, no doubt. Only confidence and complete command. He would kill to see the look on Jin's face. "Over there." Quiet sounds of movement coming from both of you. "Now close the door behind me and have a lovely evening, sir," you said as politely as you could. 

A few more seconds passed with only the scuff of your boots on the concrete, no longer making an attempt to move quietly, and then Hoseok's phone beeped when you hung up on him. 

A moment later, the passenger door opened and you dropped into the seat beside him, slamming the door behind you. Then, for one long, heavy minute the two of you just stared at each other.

"Well?" You asked finally, loud and irritated. Hoseok just raised his eyebrows at you. "I got this ugly ass statue. Drive, pendejo."

Hoseok couldn't stop the grin that cracked across his face, a soft, amused sound that wasn't quite a laugh escaping him as he shifted gears. 

Instead of getting back on Santa Monica he hopped on the I-10, heading for Koreatown while you stewed in your seat. You didn't let go of the statue the whole time he drove, just sat silently staring out the window. The twenty minutes of silence that passed wasn't awkward like it was before. You seemed to barely even notice he was there at all, even looking surprised when he brought the car to a complete stop in front of Club Seoul. 

When you realized you had arrived at your destination, you unbuckled your seatbelt mechanically. Hoseok reached out and took hold of the statue, but your grip remained firm and you hit him with a glare so black and steady he instantly removed it. He half expected you to release one of your strings of Spanish curses at him, but your jaw remained hard set. He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to open the door. After depositing the park he'd given you, you did the same.

Hoseok led you into the club without so much as a glance at the bouncer. He skirted around the edges of the main room of the club, cutting a path through the aisle and avoiding the drunken bodies that pressed in on each other all around. The place was pretty crowded, especially for a Wednesday night, but Hoseok wasn't really the club type, maybe on a night with Seokjin and Namjoon in their private room, the loud music muffled and a couple bottles of soju. He typically only came here when he had to—which was still several times a week—and didn't stay longer than was necessary. Namjoon did most of his evening business here, keeping up the appearance of an involved club owner, as well as having fun on the night's he allowed himself to. It wasn't the only way Bangtan laundered money and put up an appearance of legitimacy, but it was Namjoon's favorite. He enjoyed the top shelf liquor and—unlike Hoseok—the girls who dressed themselves up for a bit of his attention. Most of all he loved being the king here, where others had to come and know they were on his turf. A little king of Koreatown. 

At this time of the evening Hoseok expected him to still be in his office, attending to business matters, so that's where he led you. There was a small hallway in the back corner of the club where there are two black metal doors on adjacent walls. One said 'EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY,' the other 'STAFF ONLY,' and between them in the corner stood a tall, broad Korean man. He looked at Hoseok for a fraction of a second before his eyes looked down on you and then back down the hallway. Just like with the bouncer, not a word or signal passed between them. In this world, Hoseok is universally known, and no questions are ever asked, not to him. If he's asking questions to you, chances are you're already good and properly fucked. He pushed open the door and moved quickly up the stairs, trusting you to stay with him without ever glancing back. The thick door fell shut with a loud bang and blocked out most of the music from the other side. Through the other door at the top of the staircase there was another guard. 

"Is the boss in?" Hoseok asked. 

"Yes, sir," the man replied and knocked on the door. 

"Come in," Namjoon's deep voice came from the other side. 

Hoseok gripped the handle and went in ahead of you, but you burst into the office like a raging bull.

"Oh good, you-"

"Am I some kind of fucking joke to you?" You interrupted, seething with anger. "What kind of fake, bullshit mission was that? What's with the goddamn training wheels?"

Namjoon held out a hand in your direction, eyes anxiously following the movement of your arm as you waved his precious piece of art through the air. "Woah, Val, calm down. Lets-"

"Cálmale a tu puta madre, Kim. No me voy a calmar! What was the fucking point of that?" You half shouted at him. 

Namjoon chuckled in spite of himself, his dimples showing as he looked down at his desk. It seemed your angry Spanish was amusing to all of them. He took a second to compose himself. 

"The point was that I wanted that statue," he told you simply. "Can I have it, please?" He asked, still eyeing you warily.

"Want your pinche statue?" You growled and made a move like you were ready to smash it against his desk. He held out his hands, as if to save it from your wrath like one would a child. You pushed out a frustrated sigh and set the statue in the center of his desk with deliberate care. "Have your pinche statue," you grumbled. Namjoon smiled and picked up the trophy, moving it to a shelf safely out of your reach. 

"Why did you send me on a fake mission?" You demanded again. 

He came around the desk to sit on the edge in front of you. Once again, Hoseok stood between you and the door, but this time he felt considerably less threatening.

"It wasn't a fake mission," Namjoon shrugged.

"It wasn't a real one either. You lied to me. Why?" 

"Why does it bother you?" He wanted to know, crossing his arms. Hoseok wondered why he looked so damn amused to be talking to you. He noticed the way his leader always looked at you like you were some kind of puzzle to solve, and he loved puzzles. With every look, Namjoon seemed like he was reassessing you, constantly adjusting the values of your strengths and weaknesses. That didn't go unnoticed by you either. 

"It's a lack of respect for you to treat me like a child. You all treat me like I'm a little girl, and I'm not. I guarantee you I've seen things just as horrible as each of you, handled situations just as dangerous. Stolen things more valuable and harder to get than that hunk of clay. There isn't anything you can throw at me that I can't handle." Your voice was less passionate now, but just as firm, if not more steady. 

Namjoon looked down at your feet for a moment. His jaw clenched, not out of anger, but the way it did when he was thinking, making a judgment. "You're right," he agreed. "But has it occurred to you that you shouldn't? That even if you've experienced such things in the past, some of us don't want you to experience them anymore?" 

You looked at him with wide eyes, expression unreadable, but a little bit of shock mixed in somewhere. 

"You don't-" you started, your voice shaky for the first time and you weren't exactly sure where you intended to go but it didn't matter because Namjoon cut you off. 

"You asked us for our protection, and I promised you that. I wanted to know if you would do what I said and follow through. I wanted to know if you would be loyal to me, even over Seokjin. I wouldn't put you in harm's way just to prove that, and I have no intention of using you again to fulfill any desire of mine or this organization. That's why I sent you on this bullshit mission."

Namjoon's eyes lit up with a sincerity so warm and intense you actually took half a step back without even realizing it. You looked almost softened by his words, but you looked in Hoseok's direction and caught him watching you with the same intensity Namjoon did and you made yourself rigid again. 

"Fine," you said, clipping the word. "Just don't underestimate me. Is there anything else?" 

Namjoon gave you an easy smile. "No, you're both done for tonight. See you tomorrow," he dismissed you, walking back around his desk.

You walked toward Hoseok like you couldn't stand to be in this room a second longer, and when you walked past him through the door he opened for you he could've sworn he saw a touch of red on your good cheek. You stomped into the hallway and toward the door to the stairs, pulling it open without waiting for Hoseok or even caring if he was following you, but of course he did.

"Val," he called your name from the top of the stairs when you'd already reached the middle landing. You stopped and turned, but only your bright eyes acknowledged him. "Wanna get a drink?"

You hesitated, so he traipsed down the steps to meet you. 

"Can't," you finally told him when he was standing right in front of you. "Taehyung is supposed to be here somewhere. He can't see us."

"There's a place across the street. It's quieter." He could see you hesitating, but for some reason he didn't want to let it go. "Just one drink. To celebrate your success."

You scoffed and turned to descend the rest of the stairs. "Sure, but you're buying. I spent all my money on a bus ticket to nowhere."

Hoseok didn't respond but hurried to catch up with you. Before you could take a left and go back through the main part of the club he tapped your shoulder and jerked his head toward the emergency exit, inviting you into the alley. He knew you were right, that Taehyung shouldn't see you, and you probably didn't want to see Taehyung dancing too close with some random girl. 

You followed him across the street and up a little ways to a pretty grungy looking bar, the kind that only locals come to and where no amount of cleaning can make the bar top feel less tacky—not unlike your own bar, but this one had a distinctly Korean flavor. It was predictably less busy on a Wednesday night. Some local radio station was playing on the speakers. You and Hoseok sat at the bar and he ordered two Korean beers you didn't recognize the name of. You studied the label while the two of you sat in a silence that was anything but companionable.

Even without the language barrier, Hoseok was a quiet man, even around his closest friends—unless they were drinking, like you'd seen last night. It was never easy for him to make conversation or friends, and he'd had no intention of making either with you. Until ten minutes ago he was hoping that somehow your business with them would be done soon and you'd be out of his bosses house, never to be seen again. But something about the way you spoke to Namjoon in his office had changed his opinion of you. Your determination to achieve their respect and your fearlessness—and at some level he wouldn't admit, you acting a little crazy when you're mad turned him on a bit. 

Several more minutes pass in which you both ignore each other. Hoseok got lost in his thoughts, trying to work out something to say. His English wasn't perfect. It was fine, he can be understood, but he never quite felt comfortable, even less able to make conversation in the foreign tongue than in his native one. But he brought you here and he knows he has to say something. 

(For your part, you only spent the first couple of minutes wondering why he wasn't talking before you fell into your own inner web of thoughts. Worry about tonight's job and your outburst at Namjoon, trying not to dwell on the things he said to you and what they meant. He wanted you to experience a different way of life, for you to be protected. But that wasn't really up to him, was it? This was your life, and it was one of violence and exploitation. There were only a couple of ways that could end, honestly. And as much as you wanted to kill Joaquin with your own two hands, you knew the reverse was more than twice as likely.)

When he finally gathered the courage to look at you it was clear you were just as lost to your thoughts as he was. The hard set of your jaw had returned, your lips pouted slightly in deep thought as your eyes fixated on the edges of the label on the beer bottle that your fingers were tearing to pieces. A small pile was beginning to form on the bar. Whatever you were thinking about was making you anxious, so he spoke up.

"Where were you going?" Hoseok's rough voice broke into your consciousness. 

You turned to him slowly. "Huh?"

"Your bus ticket. Where were you going?"

"Oh. Phoenix."

"Why?"

You shrugged as your fingers continued to shred the damp label. "Because it was leaving next, and as far as my money could take me and still be able to eat dinner."

"Oh, then you could have bought the beers," he smirked. You did him the favor of huffing a small laugh through your nose, shaking your head minimally.

"Why did you want to leave?" Hoseok asked and you gave him a look like he was crazy. You'd thought you'd made that perfectly clear. "I mean, why now? When you had Taehyung? Why not ask him first for protection?"

You sighed heavily. "Why is everyone acting like Taehyung has the ability to solve my problems? If you think that, then you don't know enough about–" you stopped short, and by the way you swallowed the lump in your throat Hoseok guessed you were avoiding saying Moreno's name. 

"But Taehyung loves you. He would've tried anything."

You scoff at that again. "Taehyung loved the person I made him believe I was. But I was faking it the whole time." Hoseok couldn't hide the look of disgust on his face at that, so you hurried on. "Not about my feelings for him–not exactly. More like, we fell in love like we were in some awfully cliche teen romance. I don't know. He was beautiful and so I pretended to be the kind of naive girl who a boy like that could fall for. And he pretended to be someone who wasn't dangerous. It was nice while it lasted, but it ended and in reality we could never fall in love."

You spoke with such certainty. Hoseok wasn't a sentimental guy, but even logically he couldn't seem to make sense of it. "But it seems like you'd be even better together now. A perfect match."

You blinked at him, as if he were missing something horribly obvious. "But Taehyung actually believes there's love out there. And maybe there is, but it's not with me."

"No?"

"No. There's no love for people who have been through what I've been through. Love was destroyed along with everything else." Your eyes fixed on the bottle in your hands again. It was empty and you scratched at the remnants of paper where it hung on to the glue.

"You feel like shots?" Hoseok asked, waving down the bartender. 

Hoseok knew exactly how you felt. He didn't know all that you went through, but he'd had most of himself destroyed at a young age too. He had been nearly hollow when Seokjin found him, a young man of sixteen who had never been treated like more than the dirt under someone's shoe. He didn't believe that love was some kind of all-conquering magic that could fix a person's life. It was Bangtan, not love, that made Hoseok someone important and respected, with a place and a purpose. But Seokjin had taught him that he was someone who could be loved, in the strange and complicated way that took shape for them. The question of worthiness was one Hoseok didn't dare to examine, but he knew that he was loved. He would always remember what it was like to feel like you did though.

"Absolutely."

"You like soju?" The bartender heard Hoseok's question and turned to grab the man's favorite bottle. 

"I don't know, but I'm not picky," you told him, watching as the man poured out four shots—because Hoseok never just took one. 

Hoseok picked up the first shot glass with his long, slender fingers and held it toward you. "Whoever made you believe you're unlovable can go fuck themselves," he told you before you took it from him, smiling for the first time since you left the house tonight. You looked at him dubiously but took the shot when he gestured for you to do so, taking his when yours was done. 

He thought he saw an argument forming on your lips but you bit it back. After a moment you gave him a question instead. 

"Who made you think you were unlovable?" You took the liberty of grabbing the next shot for yourself, but he didn't mind. 

Hoseok took his second shot too. He gestured to the bartender and filled his air with lungs before he turned his body toward you, resting his elbows against the back of the high bar chair and the edge of the bar.

"Have you ever been to a brothel, Val?"

Perhaps the alcohol was getting to him. Perhaps he thought it was only fair that you knew some of the darkness of his past as he knew yours. Your lips pull back with a huff of air, almost a laugh but not really. You tilt your head to look at him slanted. 

"Not fit for it. So I was spared that." 

He couldn't guess how sometimes you wished you had been, that the impersonal abuse of forced prostitution might destroy you less than the intensely personal torture you endured. There's no point in comparing abuse and trauma any more than the weight of one human soul against another. 

"Yeah, I wish I could say the same," he muttered gruffly. Your eyes widened at him. "Oh, no, not like that. I- I was born into a brothel. And if there's anything no one wants in a brothel it's a child, particularly a boy one. And if a child is unwelcome then an adolescent is strictly forbidden. Once I was too big to be shoved into a corner and hidden away, I had to go."

Hoseok watched your wheels turn, watched you try to tell yourself the story before he could, to see where this was headed, but he stopped you. 

"This wasn't Bangtan. Not even the international organization. This was in Seoul, a prominent gang there, but not as powerful as ours is now. Bangtan strictly does not operate in prostitution or anything that involves buying humans. I can promise you that. We may steal anything that's not nailed down and bring tools for the things that are. We might even sell some drugs that have the potential to ruin lives, but we don't buy and sell humans. I promise you that," Hoseok repeated, feeling like he needed to make that crystal clear to you. It might be the only halfway decent thing about them, but at least they had that. You swallowed and nodded your understanding so he could go on. 

"For years I bounced from home to home, from one hateful place to another. Never caused anything but trouble and received my fair share of beatings before I was onto the next. By the time I was fourteen, I was selling for the same gang, trying to scrape together the money to buy my mom's freedom, so we could finally be together. I didn't know how stupid or impossible that was then. She didn't want to be with me and even if she did they wouldn't have let her go.

"So I was in a heated argument with her pimp one night, and things got physical, both of us throwing punches until I pushed him into a brick wall and he hit his head, fell over, bleeding everywhere. I was freaked out. I'd never killed anyone back then, and it was really an accident. I had no idea that Seokjin was there, watching us from across the street. At first I thought he was from the same gang, one of the sons of the higher ups. He took me away. I thought he was going to kill me or at least punish me. But he got me away and drove me to a different part of the city. Said he was a member of Bangtan and if I joined them he would protect me from any retaliation by the other gang. So of course I did. He kept me by his side as his personal bodyguard and a year later he brought me here."

You pursed your lips, trying to understand why he was telling you this.

He continued as if he could read your mind. "My point is, everyone in Bangtan has scars, even the ones who seem perfect. And they don't care. Seokjin has never judged me for mine. He loves me regardless."

You shook your head at him. "My scars aren't like yours, Hoseok."

"It's just skin." He shrugged, using the same phrase that Taehyung had the first time you slept together. 

"You don't get it. Every scar I have was meant to be hated, meant to show anyone who saw them who gave them to me…who I belong to. To make sure I am someone who will never be loved."

Hoseok frowned. "They won't see it that way." If Namjoon saw the cracks in your makeup and found them beautiful, Hoseok could see it too. But deep down he wanted to find all of your broken spots and kiss them back together, because no one as strong and brave as you, who had survived all that you had, should be allowed to feel weak or vulnerable. 

"They?" You questioned, blinking at him.

Hoseok's ears went red and he reached for another shot glass. You weren't quite ready to believe that one man loved you. He shouldn't scare you by telling you just how many men in Bangtan you had under your spell.

"Tell me about your fighting days," he smiled before he tossed back another shot.

And you actually smiled back."I know you all don't believe me, but I was really fucking good," you grinned. "When I turned eighteen, Joaquin almost got me into a female MMA league. That's why he got me the fake tits. Said I needed to be camera ready," you laughed as you took a drink, the alcohol starting to affect you.

"Taehyung always wondered about that. He thought maybe you did porn." Hoseok must have been feeling it too because he couldn't take his eyes off then. 

You sputtered. "Don't stare at them,  sucio!"

Hoseok turned red and laughed. You continued to to drink together and tell him stories of fights you had been in. After a while, Hoseok could see your head begin to swim, your eyes getting glassy and drooping, your movements just a little too fluid and words slurred. He didn't think you'd had that much to drink, but everyone is different and maybe you'd already hit your limit. 

"You ready to go home?" He asked gently, and you nodded. "I'll go to the restroom and we can leave." He stood and drained his glass before setting it down clumsily and walking heavily to the bathroom. Maybe he'd had more than he thought, too. The bathroom door seemed to resist more than usual when he pushed it. His limbs felt so heavy as he went to the urinal to relieve himself. Maybe I'll take her back to the club and have someone take us home. Mm call Seokjin, he thought hazily.

It almost seemed like the bar room got darker when he emerged after washing his hands, maybe his eyes were just heavier. His face contorted in confusion when he got to the bar but you weren't there. He looked at the door just in time to see you going through it with two larger men. But it didn't look as if you were doing much of the walking when he noticed their hands around your arms and the lazy tilt of your head.

Hoseok's reflexes failed him and he began to think perhaps the two of you weren't just drinking alcohol tonight. He looked for the bartender, but he was nowhere in sight. There wasn't any time to look for him now, not when you'd just been taken. 

Stumbling out of the bar, Hoseok looked up and down the sidewalk, but he saw no sign of you or the men who had dragged you out. No suspicious cars. Only a steady flow of traffic both ways.

Fuck.

Hoseok walked across the street as fast as his lethargic limbs would take him up to the door of Club Seoul. As two giggling girls stumbled out of the club, he pushed his way in. The crowd had thinned and one of the bouncers was standing near the door, leaning lazily against the wall. He caught Hoseok by the elbow when he nearly crashed into the man. 

"Namjoon?" Hoseok asked hoarsely.

"He's up in his private room, Mr. Jung." Hoseok ignored the man's offers to help as he pushed himself toward the stairs and up to the second floor. When Hoseok pushed the door open without knocking Taehyung was with him, one girl to his left and another on his lap. Namjoon sat on another one of the plush couches in the red-walled room, Jungkook at his side with his hand on his thigh, having a quiet conversation. 

Hoseok fell to his knees in front of them, the five other people in the room looking on in amused surprise, smiles lubricated with alcohol. 

"It's my fault," Hoseok cried to the floor as he bowed his head to the carpet.

Namjoon stiffened, fingers clenching around Jungkook's leg. "What happened?"

Hoseok didn't lift his face from the ground. "They took her. Val is gone."

The three other men stood quickly, the girl in Taehyung's lap falling onto the other one with an indignant cry.

"What do you mean, Val is gone?" Taehyung demanded. 

"We were at Dae's and we were drinking. They must have slipped us something. We were going to go home. But when I came back from the bathroom they were taking her away and when I got outside they were gone," Hoseok explained breathlessly.

"Where would they take her?"

"Malibu," Jungkook answered miserably. "There's no way we'll catch up to them now, and we can't get to his house."

"She's on her own," Namjoon whispered. 

"Like hell she is. We've gotta do something!" Taehyung's rage rolled off him in waves and the two girls he'd already forgotten about clung to each other as they shared confused, bordering on frightened, looks.

"Jungkook is right. We need to go back home and regroup. Maybe Jimin will-"

"Hyung-" Tae whined angrily.

"I promised to protect her, Taehyung, and I will do my best. Right now we have to go." Namjoon walked forward to Hoseok and raised him up by his arms. "We'll get her back. It's not your fault."

Taehyung's eyes didn't seem to agree with his boss's words but he followed the other three out of the small room when Jungkook took on Hoseok's weight to help him out of the club.

"Yoongi's gonna fuckin kill you, hyung," Jungkook mumbled to him a they left.

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no fucking way, princess. he laughs and shakes his head like you just told him the funniest joke on Earth. no chance, never.

simon can't even believe you would ask him such a thing. him call you mommy? have you gone mad? why in the world would he ever do that? simon had a hard enough time submitting to you as is. now you throw this into play? you must want him to tie you up and show you who runs shit around here. (it's you.)

c'mon, babyyy. you lament, leaning in and letting your dark brown nipples rub against his. up and down, still wet from simon sucking on them earlier. just one time, c'mon. say it.

simon was coming up on his third nut in the last thirty minutes, and he was starting to lose himself. your hips were moving the same pace they were when you started, maybe faster since your pussy was creaming like a faucet. no, no..im not gonna-- fuck me.. not gonna say it.

he's not. nothing can crack that wall down. he won't. his mind is made up. you clench around him in retaliation, but the tightness adds to his overstimulating pleasure and makes him drop his hands to the sheets, gripping them with a force that would have stopped you in your tracks, must be why he moved.

fuck, mm-mommy. it comes out completely unplanned, unrecognized and unintentionally. simon can't look you in the eye, just gripping your hips again and watching you grind back and forth just a bit.

what's that, si? he shakes his head, closing his eyes and throwing his his head against the headboard. simon bites his lip and whimpers, simon riley, the 6 foot 200 something pound tank of a man whimpers at the feeling of your pussy gripping him.

mommy. i said-- i called you mommy. he reiterates, moving you up and down on his cock and watching it like it would disappear if he looked away. fuck you. fucking hate you-- fuck! simon's cum started spurting up into you and he was seeing white. his balls felt like they were cramping, tightening and releasing too quickly, too harshly, he swears for a second he's gonna pass out.

before you can quip, his fingers are wrapped around your throat and squeezing. not a word. he damn near whines. he's trying to sound all manly and deep voiced, you can tell, but his voice nearly cracked at how tight you are around him, and how fucking sensitive he is. not a fucking word, i swear.

"I'm usually up at this time. I stay up until everyone is home. Just in case," he explained, putting his hands in his pockets as he observed you shutting the door quietly behind you. 

"That's nice of you."

He shrugged. "Just doing my job."

"Do they get into trouble a lot?" 

Another shrug. "Not too much, but you never know." He chuckled. "Jungkook has more of a tendency toward bar fights than gang violence, to be frank." His eyes caught the slightest smile on your lips at that before moving on to observe other parts. "Is your arm bothering you?"

You looked down at the wound. You'd removed the bandage and the flash on your face suggested you'd all but forgotten about it. "Mm, no, it's alright."

"Are you having trouble sleeping?" He asked after a moment of silence from you. 

Your eyes widened a bit and then it was your turn to observe him. They were large and brown, and slightly red and puffy from crying you'd done hours ago. He waited patiently for your response.

"I know you're not a regular doctor but…" You began quietly and faded fast. He waited still, but you didn't go on. 

"But what?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Do you- do you honor doctor patient confidentiality?" 

The corner of Yoongi's mouth tugged up as he cocked his head a few degrees, eyes roaming over your nervous demeanor. You had something you wanted—or needed—to trust him with, and whether it was part of his code or not, he knew at that moment he would keep any secret for you. His head nodded subtly. 

"Of course. Is there something you're concerned about?" He took cautious steps toward you, but still kept several feet of distance between you.

"There's something I need. I know you don't have it on hand. But I can't leave, at least not without one of the guys and Taehyung would lose his mind and Jungkook is too damn observant and nosey, and I don't know about Hoseok but somehow he seems like the worst option…"

Yoongi couldn't help snickering as you rambled. "What is it that you need, Val?" It wasn't an impatient question. He merely wanted to stop your wheels from spinning, and he could see them grind to a halt. 

You coughed and swallowed, seemingly unable to clear the blockage in your throat. As he noticed the tick, his eyes landed on the faint bruises on your neck. He had noticed the hint of them earlier in the day, but they were more prominent now. A matching set had blossomed on your wrists too. Just as he was pondering them, you finally spoke. 

"I need a morning after pill," you forced out in a quiet rush of words. They confirmed that indeed you had suffered an act of violence earlier in the day, and Yoongi's heart shattered for you. 

He cleared his throat quietly and looked at your face, causing you to look away and he followed suit. "I don't have that here. And I can't leave at the moment. But as soon as I can get out, I'll head to a pharmacy and get what you need." There was no hesitation or judgement in his voice, only assurance. "In the meantime, I can give you something to help you sleep," he offered. 

You rubbed your right hand anxiously over your arm and nodded with a quiet, "thank you," but your eyes didn't leave the ground. 

Yoongi desperately wished he could say something to comfort you, but it seemed useless. He couldn't promise you that everything would be alright, or that you had nothing to fear. He didn't know you well enough to know if you would find solace in a friendly hug, but he figured you probably wouldn't like to be touched. He could only do what you asked, and it didn't feel like nearly enough. But he vowed silently to do anything in his power to help you through the next stages of whatever was to come. 

Calmly, he moved around his cabinets, finding the pills he was looking for. He doled out two tablets until your palm and gave you a glass of water. You tossed back the pills and gulped down every last drop before handing it back to him. Then the two of you stood awkwardly for a moment.

"Those are strong, so you should head up to bed. Sleep as much as you can, and I'll come see you in the morning." He gave you a small thin smile. 

"Thanks, Doc," you murmured as you turned toward the door. "Sorry for disturbing you."

"You didn't," he assured you. "You're welcome here anytime."

You gave him one last small, grateful smile and left. 

An hour later, Namjoon and Hoseok found Yoongi reading in the living room so that he wouldn't miss their arrival.

"Everything okay?" Yoongi asked as he slipped his bookmark between the pages. 

Namjoon nodded as he walked into the room, loosening his tie. "Everything quiet here?"

"Yeah." Yoongi cleared his throat. "I gotta go out for a little bit."

Namjoon raised his eyebrows suspiciously. It was pretty rare that Yoongi went out, and never in the middle of the night unless it was under Namjoon's orders. 

"It's nothing. I just gotta go to the pharmacy."

Namjoon narrowed his eyes incredulously. "At three in the morning?"

"It's rather time sensitive," Yoongi elaborated, only barely.

"Is there something you're out of?" Namjoon always made sure to keep things fully stocked.

Yoongi hesitated. Namjoon was an old friend, in addition to his boss, and he was never good at lying anyway, but he really wanted to keep your trust. "It's a…special circumstance."

Namjoon scoffed as he wrapped his tie around his hand. "Yoongi, what the hell is going on?" The man merely stared back at him, and now Hoseok had drawn close, intrigued, but both men gave him a look that had him backing off and heading back out the front door to drive home. "It's Val, right? What's wrong?"

"I really can't say." Yoongi scratched the back of his neck.

"Yoongi!" The boss leveled a withering stare at the smaller man.

"Namjoon, she came to me as a patient to a doctor. I can't-"

"You're not a real doctor!" Namjoon reminded him vehemently.

"You can't tell me you don't want to protect her as much as I do. That's why you kept what you learned about her to yourself the other night." Yoongi had noticed the way Namjoon wasn't shocked by parts of her story the way the others were.  

"Yoongi," Namjoon faltered. 

"It's fine. She's doing it to all of us. But right now she asked me for this and I have to protect her, alright?"

"Yeah, go," Namjoon sighed and let Yoongi walk away from him and out the front door.

Yoongi had never had to buy emergency contraception before. He couldn't even remember the last time he bought condoms. He'd determined a long time ago that it wasn't fair or safe to ask anyone to be a part of his life when he was a part of this life. Even if Yoongi didn't usually participate in anything dangerous or illegal, anyone close to him would always be vulnerable, so he stayed away. 

He was still a medical professional, though—kind of—so he quickly found what he was looking for in the feminine care aisle of the 24-hour pharmacy and chose the brand with the highest efficacy. While he was walking back toward the registers he realized that you'd probably be needing other feminine products soon. Of course he had no idea what you would prefer, so he just got an assortment of sizes of tampons and pads and felt pretty pleased with himself. Walking to the front once more he thought it might be nice if you had some snacks, since he knew you might be uncomfortable and probably in bed for the next day. Again, in complete ignorance of what you might like, he grabbed an assortment of salty and sweet snacks and some drinks. 

By the time he was finally ready to pay, he wished he'd picked up a basket. He dumped all of the items in his arms onto the counter and the cashier began to ring them up. She gave him a look with raised eyebrows, which he skillfully avoided seeing by looking at his wallet. He paid and exited quickly with his bags without saying a word to her.

Back in his clinic, Yoongi put away all the sanitary products he bought for a rainy day. Then he got a tray and removed the pill from its packaging, placing it in a tiny plastic cup along with a glass of water and some of the snacks he had bought you. When he was done he looked at the clock.

Just before 4 o'clock. 

He didn't want to wake you. He wasn't even sure you'd be lucid if he did with all the drugs he'd given you to help you sleep earlier. But he also knew the effectiveness of the pill lessened over time, and the sooner you took it the better, so he decided to head up to your room.

It was all quiet in the house, which wasn't unusual. Yoongi was used to the quiet, since he was usually the one here when everyone else was out. But he rarely came to the upper floors of the house unless someone was really sick, and it was strange to think of everyone tucked up nicely in their beds while he was the one on a delicate mission. 

He balanced the tray on one hand while the other knocked quietly on your door. There was no answer, but he hadn't expected one. Cautiously, he opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind him just as quietly. There was enough pale moonlight coming in through the balcony door to let him make it safely to your bed. You barely took up any room on the large king size bed that you had burrowed into the middle of.

Yoongi set down the tray on your bedside table and turned on the lamp. He whispered your name but when you didn't respond he said it a little louder. The last thing he wanted to do was have to shake you. Luckily, you awoke when he used a regular speaking voice. 

Your eyes popped open and you sat up. "Where am I?" You asked urgently. 

"It's okay. It's just Yoongi. Er…you're with Bangtan, remember?" 

"Right." You rubbed your eyes and squinted at him in the bright light. "What's up, Doc?"

Yoongi chuckled and decided to risk sitting on the edge of the bed. "Uh, I got what you asked me for. Do you remember?"

You nodded tiredly and whispered, "I remember."

"Do you still want to take the pill?" He asked, focusing on controlling the hand that ached to reach out and brush your wild hair away from your face. 

"Please." You nodded again. 

Quickly, Yoongi grabbed the two cups from the tray and handed them both to you. His nerves electrified where your skin touched his, even only for an instant. He already wanted more. 

He'd wanted more since the first time you went into his clinic and tried to act tough while he patched you up. He wanted more even though he knew he couldn't have it. After hearing your story, Yoongi quickly realized what it was that made you so attractive to everyone around you. It was actually quite simple. The same thing Joaquin and his father had noticed in you. A burning desire to live. Your aura burned with life, no matter how dark your circumstances were. And for Yoongi, it made music in the silence of his life, like a song from childhood that he had forgotten. Maybe it was a siren song, leading him to his doom, but he couldn't help following it.

He watched you take the pill just as casually as you had taken the sedatives earlier. Just like before, you handed the glass to him when you'd drained it.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, not quite ready to leave you, even though he knew he shouldn't stay long.

"Sleepy," you mumbled and he could see your eyes beginning to droop again as you laid back down.  

"Right. Well, I brought you some snacks, in case you wake up hungry. The medicine might make you nauseous, or make your stomach hurt. Come see me when you wake up or…I can leave you my number in case you don't feel well enough." He began to look around him for something to write on. 

"Don't have my phone. Got rid of it," you responded sleepily. "Don't worry, Doc. If I need you, I'll just yell your name until you come. You'll come, right?" 

He laughed fondly as the sleep talked for you. "Yeah, I'll come right away," he promised and pulled the covers up to your chin. 

"Thanks, Doc. But don't worry about me. I know the drill. No problem." By now your eyes were closed and your breathing was already heavy. 

"Don't worry. I'll take care of you," he replied to himself before gathering his things to leave. 

"What do you want?" Yoongi grumbled unpleasantly when he found Taehyung waiting in his clinic the next morning. The younger man knew better than to bother him before his third cup of coffee. 

"I'm worried about Val. She's still sleeping. She's not usually a late sleeper."

Yoongi tried to keep down the little bit of jealousy he felt at Taehyung knowing such a banal fact about you. It spoke of mornings Taehyung probably woke up with you already out of bed, going in search of you. 

"She might sleep a little longer. I gave her some strong medication to help her sleep last night," Yoongi admitted. "Best just to let her be." Secretly though he was already anxious to go check on you. 

Tae sighed dramatically and leaned over the exam table on his elbows, making the paper crinkle and Yoongi ground his teeth . "Hyung, she keeps rejecting me. She won't let me back in. She even kicked me out of her bed last night."

"You went to her bed last night?" Jungkook suddenly joined them after hearing their voices down the hall. He popped a piece of a half peeled tangerine into his mouth. 

"Yeah. I just wanted to sleep with her, but she said the thought of my hands on her made her skin crawl. I don't understand how she could go from loving me to hating me so quickly," he pouted.

"Maybe she never did love you," Jungkook mocked. 

"Fuck you," Taehyung spat bitterly. 

Yoongi reached out and smacked Taehyung on the back of the head. "What the fuck is the matter with you?"

"Ow! What!" Taehyung cried and grabbed his head 

"She had a traumatic day yesterday and you went slithering into her bed like some creep! Of course she didn't want you to touch her!" 

"What do you mean? Did she say something to you?" Taehyung gaped. 

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose. "Either you are the densest mother fucker on the planet, or you actually don't love her at all, and I don't know which is worse."

"Hyung!" Taehyung whined, but Yoongi ignored him, not able to control himself enough to explain. 

"Come on, Tae," Jungkook intervened. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out. She had to see her old boss, master, lover…whatever. Whatever he said or did to her was enough to make her come here and tell us her whole terrible story and ask for protection. Didn't you see how she was shaking? Pale? Fuck, even I could tell she was in shock. Are you really that self absorbed?" 

"Man, fuck you guys. I'm not," Tae muttered. 

"Look, Taehyung, if you care about her and want a future with her, then it's in your best interest to give her space right now. Smothering her is only going to make her push back harder."

"Oh, because you're suddenly an expert in women and my girlfriend. Fuck off, Yoongi," he sneered before he stormed out. 

Jungkook shook his head as he began peeling another tangerine. "Taehyung can be such a child sometimes."

Yoongi glared at the youngest for a moment before he snatched the piece of fruit from his hands. "Get the fuck out."

Jungkook merely smirked and turned toward the door. "There's a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen, hyung."

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When you woke up again, it was because your hands were being yanked upwards, closer to the ceiling, pulling you to your feet until you were just on your tiptoes. It was still dark outside, but there were definitely people in the room with you now. You groaned.

"I'm sorry we had to bring you here like this, princesa. But you have not been obedient and now I have to punish you." 

You groaned again at the sound of Joaquin's voice. It was the most unpleasant sound you could have woken up to, and why was he speaking in English? You twisted yourself around in your toes to look at him where he stood across the room leaned over his desk, a blade and a phone on the surface in front of him. 

"I was wondering why you weren't taking my calls, but now I see you got a new phone. The latest model. Very nice. Is that all it takes to make you betray me? A few expensive gadgets?" Joaquin picked up the knife on his desk and walked around to where you were dangling. 

"I didn't!" You croaked out. 

He pressed the cold metal of the blade to your lips. "Shh, princesa." You whimpered, but kept your mouth shut. "You're supposed to be helping me, in order to gain your freedom, remember? Or is it that you don't want your freedom anymore, and you've finally accepted that you're mine." He slid the flat side of the blade down your chin. 

"I'm trying, Joaquin," you gasped. 

"What information do you have for me?"

"Nothing yet. I have to gain their trust before they'll give me-"

"Trust?" He interrupted. "Doesn't your lover trust you? Mm maybe not, since he gave you that ugly black eye. He must have been very upset with you for leaving. I can understand."

"Joaquin, please, it's only been a few days. I'll get you what you need. But if you keep taking me they'll only get suspicious." It was hard to reason with him as he continued to skim your skin with cool steel. "Do they already know that you're mine?" Joaquin asked before he pulled up your shirt. "Did he see my marks on your skin? Is that why he hit you?" 

You winced as he ran his rough hands over his handy work. 

"I think you need a reminder of who exactly you belong to, Yn. So you'll know, even if you leave, that you'll always be mine."

"No, don't. Please," you cried as you felt the sharp edge of his knife break the skin over your ribs, under your left breast. "I'm sorry," you sobbed. "I'll try harder. You don't have to-" you yelled as he made another cut. 

"You don't have to try anymore, princesa. I've decided that what's best for you is to stay here. It's just so much simpler." He wiped the blade on his pants and stopped to look at your face. "I thought this would be a fun game to play. But I've been missing you ever since you were here the other day, and I've decided I would rather have you back than a whole empire." He grabbed your jaw roughly. "You're meant to be with me, Y/n. It was always meant to be."

"No," you breathed as he kissed you. 

The door to the office opened and one of his henchmen stuck his head in. "Jefe," he said simply, getting Joaquin's attention. "There's a call from Tijuana."

"Tell them I'm busy."

"They said it was urgent."

Joaquin cursed under his breath, looking harshly into your eyes for a moment. He walked over to his desk and set his knife down. 

"Lower her down. I don't want to exhaust her. I'm nowhere near done with her," Joaquin instructed before he left the room. As soon as the door was closed the man brought you down to the ground low enough for you to sit on your haunches, and then he left too. You took a moment to catch your breath before you pulled yourself up to kneel, getting the rope to slack enough to untie yourself. Your ability to undo knots was one of your most useful skills, and one people never seemed to catch onto. It took a few minutes to work the ropes enough to get one hand free, but that was all you needed. Once you were free you pulled down your shirt, ignoring the sting as the fabric touched the raw edges of your wounds, and rushed over to the desk to retrieve your phone. You had only six percent battery left and you needed to make it count. After this you weren't sure how far back your trust with Bangtan would be set and you needed them more than ever. As quietly as you could, you pulled open the drawers of Joaquin's desk and looked for anything that might be useful. You found a folder labeled Triads and laid it out on the desk. You didn't have the time to analyze the information for what it was or even if it would be useful. The fact that you got it would have to be enough to win you points with Namjoon and Seokjin. Your battery drained to five percent and the phone informed you that you didn't have enough power to take pictures. Cursing, you turned off the device and slid it into your back pocket before closing the file and putting it back where you found it. 

You found your jacket you'd worn last night abandoned on the floor just as you heard voices return in the hallway, so you hurried to the door that led from the office to the terrace and wrenched it open. You could hear alarmed shouts from inside the house as you sprinted across the length of the house toward the ramp that led down to the beach, but you didn't look back. You just ran as fast as you could move your legs. It became harder as you reached the sand, but you pushed in, coarse grains scratching between your toes. Your legs burned. A bullet hit the sand a yard behind you, but you didn't quit running until you were at least a mile down the beach from his house. 

Your lungs burned and even though your mind told you to keep going, they couldn't. You collapsed on the shore, just a few yards from where the waves bathed the sand, and tried to catch your breath. You laid there for a few minutes before you forced yourself to your feet. You checked your phone, but it was dead and useless now, so you stored it away and began walking down the beach. The sky was beginning to lighten up in the east, and you weren't sure how long you'd have to walk before you found a way to get back to Beverly Hills. 

All seven men were back at Namjoon's mansion, but as a side effect of being drugged, the only one sleeping was Hoseok. The others were sitting with Namjoon, trying to get Jimin to find a way to get them past the gate of Joaquin's community without busting straight through it, which for Taehyung seemed like a reasonable option. Someone's phone rang and they scrambled to find their devices. When your name flashed on his phone, Namjoon answered it frantically. 

"Val?" He called out nervously before putting it on speaker. But there was no reply. "Val where are you?"

When a voice finally came through from the other end, it was Joaquin's, chastising you for not obeying his orders. Namjoon called to you again, but it was clear that although they could hear your whines and pleas, neither of you could hear him. All the men listened closely as Joaquin continued his menacing speech to you. They didn't know exactly what was causing your whimpers, but Namjoon, Taehyung and Yoongi all sat with clenched fists while he talked to you. Jungkook paced in the background. Only Seokjin and Jimin listened with any kind of calm.

Namjoon's heart sank when he heard you deny having information to share, and fell further when you mentioned a lack of trust. You did have information you could share. Maybe not much, but you could have told him something, anything you knew to make the man stop what he was doing to you. But you didn't. And what was worse, you worried that getting captured would make Namjoon take back the trust he'd already given you. 

Beside him, Seokjin rubbed his thumb and forefinger in small circles—a passive habit he had when he was listening and thinking. He stared blankly at the phone your voice was coming from. Truthfully, Seokjin hadn't fully formed his opinion of you. He certainly didn't trust you. And the information coming through from Malibu wasn't helping at all. Yes, you had told them exactly what deal you had made with Moreno as soon as you got to the mansion less than a week ago, but it didn't make your intentions any clearer. As far as he was concerned you were still a liability. 

While Moreno's words may have muddied the waters for Seokjin, they brought astounding clarity to Taehyung, who sat to his right. He flinched when Joaquin suggested that he was the cause of your black eye, but whatever your reason was, he didn't blame you for not correcting the assumption. Taehyung would never hit you, not before he knew who you really were and not now. But as he listened, he could hear just how much like your captor he sounded. He heard his words 'you belong to me' with so much more malice than he ever intended, but that didn't matter because he could understand how they must have sounded to you. And not just the other day but for weeks. The marks on your skin you never wanted to talk about were the physical manifestation of such wicked thoughts, and he finally understood.

Truly, the words of your torturer passed right through Yoongi's ears. Whether or not your intention was to destroy Bangtan was the least of his concerns. The only thing he heard were your whimpers and pleas for mercy that went unheeded. When you cried out from the pain of the blade, Yoongi shot to the edge of his seat, as if he wanted to reach out for you through the phone. From then on he was consumed by a singular desire to bring you back and patch you up; to make all the hurting stop, for good.

Jungkook was equally unconcerned by the words he heard. He didn't care at all what plots Moreno had against his family. He only cared that he already considered you part of it and that you were being hurt. As he paced, his only thoughts were how to kill the man who caused you pain. He could think of a dozen ways and he'd talk with Hoseok later about more detailed plans. When Moreno's conversation with you was interrupted and the line went dead with three dull beeps, Jungkook stopped the track he was wearing into the tile and stood behind Namjoon, hands rubbing at his lover's shoulders. 

"What do we do, hyung?"

Before Namjoon could answer, Jimin was already out of his chair and headed across the house to his basement lair filled with blinking computers and large monitors. He didn't know why he waited so long to act. He didn't need to listen to that whole call to know what he needed to do. Although Jimin had technically known you as long as Taehyung had, he didn't feel a particular attachment to you. Taehyung had kept you mostly to himself and Jimin honestly wasn't jealous. The time he had spent around you, he was much more focused on your friend. And even though he had no animosity toward you, Jimin was annoyed at the way you had treated Taehyung the last few days, so he'd been avoiding you. None of that mattered now though. He could read the room, and he knew how attached the others felt to you, so he knew he had to find you, and quickly. He only berated himself for waiting so damn long to do it. 

Namjoon took a deep breath as he watched Jimin's figure retreat from the room and placed a hand over Jungkook's. 

"We should do nothing," Seokjin answered before Namjoon could formulate a response. Four pairs of eyes ranging from shocked to irate turned to look at him.

"We can't do nothing, hyung," Jungkook nearly whined.

"Look, I know you've all grown attached to her, but you need to think clearly. You heard them. She's been trying to gain our trust to get information she can give to Moreno. We can't trust her. She's not one of ours, and we have no responsibility to do anything about this at all. She's with her family, where she belongs," he concluded coldly.

Seokjin had been raised by the top of the top in Bangtan's international syndicate, headquartered in Seoul. His loyalty to the organization came before (almost) anything else. And although bringing in outsiders wasn't impossible, it wasn't something he felt open to with you. Jungkook, Hoseok and Jimin were different. He knew where they came from and he could rely on their loyalty. You were still a mystery to him and your intentions too clouded.

Namjoon's hand clenched around the arm of the leather chair he sat on. "No." Seokjin raised an eyebrow at the leader. "La Familia is not her family. We can't let her stay with anyone who treats her like that. He's torturing her and she won't even give him the little information she has. We have to find a way to get her out of there."

The others made sounds of agreement as they looked back at Seokjin. Normally, the eldest's opinion carried a lot of weight, as much as Namjoon's when the leader was undecided, but in this instance he could see he was outnumbered. It wouldn't do him any good to try to stop them. He could only wonder what Hoseok would say, but that man was in Yoongi's clinic, sleeping off the effects of the drug he had been given, so he stood alone. 

Namjoon's phone chimed with a text message, and all the men except the oldest leaned in to find out what was going on. 

"Jimin wants us in the basement," Namjoon informed them as he stood up and all the others followed him. 

There were no lights on in Jimin's room, but it wasn't necessary with how large and bright his screens were. Each panel displayed different information. One showed a satellite view of a large beach front property. Another, the security camera view of a gated community. Others were running codes. On one screen was a mugshot and rap sheet of Joaquin Moreno, and beside it on another screen a picture of you, but one where you were clearly much younger. The five men gathered around while Jimin moved between windows with his mouse. 

"I was able to pinpoint the phone's current location to this house in Malibu. This is Moreno's compound. It's protected by the gate at the entrance as well as several cameras and armed guards. It has private beach access, but it would be a really terrible idea to go that way, since they'd see you coming from a mile away. I just connected to the front gate though, and I can open it with a click." Jimin demonstrated and they all watched the gate on the screen open to no one. 

"Can you get blueprints of the property?" Namjoon asked as he watched the satellite image of the complex, which couldn't be live because it was broad daylight.

Jimin turned to another screen and began to search while the others diverted their attention to various other screens. Jungkook read the information on display about Moreno, while Yoongi, Taehyung and Seokjin all had their eyes fixed on the older picture of you. It appeared to be a school picture, you were smiling awkwardly, and you couldn't have been older than fourteen.

"What have you been able to find about Y/N Y/L/N?" Seokjin asked suddenly.

Jimin shook his head, fingers never pausing. "Not much, honestly. Born April 19th, 2000, in Veracruz, Mexico. Mother, Juana Amaral, died September 12, 2004. I found some report cards. Not a great student. A missing persons report was filed in June 2015 for her and her father, but it doesn't look like it was ever investigated."

"The Cartel probably buried it," Namjoon mutters.

Jimin shrugs. "Most likely. There's nothing about her in the United States under her birth name or the alias she's been using. Moreno must have kept her under lock and key."

"She did say she didn't finish high school," Yoongi remembered.

"That would make sense."

"I got the plans," Jimin interjected, drawing Namjoon's attention away from your face. "Looks like there are entrances here, here and here. But they're all protected by a security system."

"Can you get past it?"

"I can try. But it's going to take me a little while."

"Send those plans to my phone. Taehyung, Jungkook, let's make a plan for how we're gonna get her out of there. Yoongi, get ready for us to bring her home."

Yoongi nodded and they all turned to leave, but found Hoseok standing in the doorway. "I'd like to go get her."

"Hobi, you're still not well," Seokjin said softly, affection coloring his voice.

"I will be fine. This is my fault. I need to bring her back." Hoseok looked determinedly at his leader, who looked at Yoongi.

"Let's go back up to the clinic and I'll get you on some fluids to speed up the process."

"Wait," Namjoon stopped them before they could leave. "We're going to bring Val back," he promised, looking around at his members. "And when we do, there are two new rules of Bangtan. Anyone who forces her into something she doesn't want will answer to me. And Joaquin Moreno will die before he ever touches her again." 

All his men nodded and began to disperse to prepare. "Figure out how to get us in there Jimin, we'll work out the rest."

After getting Hoseok back on the bed and hooked up to an IV to clear his system and replenish his body, Yoongi moved silently around the room, setting out supplies to heal your unknown wounds. He laid out a needle and thread, a mountain of bandages. Even without seeing his face, Hoseok could tell how worried the doctor was. He could see it in the way his head bent low and his shoulders sat high and tense. His hands shook as he looked at other instruments he had on hand. He didn't want to think about what injuries you might sustain before they were able to get to you.

"I'm sorry, hyung," Hoseok said softly, causing both Seokjin and Yoongi to turn to him.

Yoongi's face softened just a little at the younger man and he shook his head. "Stop blaming yourself, Hobi. It could've happened to anyone."

"But she's in danger because of me."

"No, she's in danger because Moreno is a lunatic," Yoongi corrected. 

Hoseok felt sick. "The things he did to her, hyung. He's ruined her. She told me about her scars-"

"We heard," Seokjin told him, threading his fingers into the slender man's hair. Hoseok's brow furrowed, making Jin sigh. "Moreno called us on Y/n's phone so we could listen to him torture her. He mentioned the scars."

"She prefers Val," Yoongi reminded him, looking away before he could see Jin's eyeroll. Hoseok stood up and tried to remove his IV, but Yoongi stopped him.

"I didn't think you cared so much, Hoseok," Jin said with raised brows. 

"We talked last night, while we drank," the younger man shrugged.

"And you believe everything she told you?"

He nodded. "She's so damaged, hyung. Just like me when you found me. You can't fake something like that."

"I'll put her back together," Yoongi mumbled under his breath. 

Hoseok looked sadly at the doctor. "She's going to need a lot of care before she'll believe she deserves it."

"One thing at a time. Get her back. I'll patch her up. Then we can do the rest," Yoongi muttered, looking at his tools. Hoseok merely nodded.

Seokjin's expression softened as he looked at his lover. They'd been together over a decade now, and he often forgot just how broken Hoseok had been in those early days, just how much he'd needed Jin and Bangtan. He was a different man now, one that the older male valued highly, both personally and for the organization. Hoseok was his advisor and confidant, and if he had decided to trust you—even if he wanted you—Seokjin would have no choice but to get on board. He placed a firm hand on his shoulder and a kiss on his forehead. 

"I guess I'll have to help her, too."

Hoseok smiled up at him and leaned into his side. "Thank you, hyung."

The sun had fully risen above the horizon by the time Jimin told Namjoon, Taehyung and Jungkook that everything was set for the break in. But Hoseok insisted that he was fine and wouldn't be stopped from going on the mission, so Jungkook stayed behind instead. 

They'd noticed that the signal on your phone had gone missing, though Jimin assured them it probably just meant your battery was dead. They had no way of knowing that you had already freed yourself. They couldn't know as they were speeding down the highway that you were passing them by in the opposite direction. 

You'd nearly passed out again by the time you reached a populated city center. You thought maybe you were hallucinating the taxi due to your exhaustion, but you managed to convince the driver to take you back to Beverly Hills. He was reluctant, given the state of you, but you promised him a big tip if he did. You had to fight to stay awake as he drove so that you could give him directions since you didn't know the address. When he finally pulled into the circular driveway, you practically fell out of the car.

"Hey lady, you owe me fifty-three dollars!" The man yelled at you as you stumbled to the door. 

"Just hold on a goddamn minute, hijo de puta," you mumbled under your breath as he idled behind you. You rang the doorbell an obnoxious number of times, but at least you got results. You nearly fell inside when Yoongi yanked the door open. 

"Val!" He reached out to hold you up. 

"Oppa. Can you?" You gestured back toward the taxi driver as you gripped your side. 

Yoongi looked panicked at your obvious pain, but if he wanted to take care of you he'd have to get rid of this guy first. "Jungkook, get her to my clinic, now," Yoongi instructed the larger man behind him as he walked out, patting his pockets for his wallet. 

Jungkook caught you just before you dropped, holding you bridal style in both of his strong arms. "Hey there, princess," he smiled down at you. 

"Don't call me princess," you groaned as he carried you into the house. 

Yoongi dug out a one hundred dollar bill and handed it to the cabbie without blinking. "Keep the change."

The man looked at the large bill in his hand as Yoongi walked away. "Um, I think your friend bled on my seat back there."

Yoongi nearly growled as he turned back to the man. He crumpled a fifty dollar bill and tossed it inside the open window. "Get lost." 

The man gave a satisfied smile and rolled up his window before driving away. By the time Yoongi got back inside and closed the door, Seokjin was standing in the foyer with a phone to his ear. 

"Get your asses back here. Val just walked in the front door," he informed them the moment Namjoon picked up. 

"Is she okay?" Hoseok asked. 

"Well she didn't look like she'd been for a walk in the park, but she’s still standing," Seokjin watched as Yoongi rushed past him to get to you. 

"How does she always manage to save herself before we can even get there?" Taehyung asked in astonishment. 

"She did say she's an expert in survival. She's been doing it since long before we came around," Namjoon noted. 

"Just get back here, alright?" 

"Yeah, we're turning around."

After he set you on the exam table Jungkook stepped away and looked at the blood on his hand from the spot where he held your side. "Val, you're bleeding," he murmured as Yoongi came into the room. There was a part of him that thought everything would be okay as soon as you were back in the mansion, that maybe the whole phone call was a bad dream, but the sticky red stain on his hand made it real. 

"I'm fine," you breathed, even as you swayed. Your face was pale, but Yoongi tried to stay calm.

"Where are you bleeding from, sweetheart?" he asked, hands anxious to grab the proper tools.

"It's okay," you insisted hazily.

"You will be, but I need to patch you up," he urged you gently.

"It's her left side, hyung," Jungkook told him as he washed his hands in the sink.

Yoongi went closer to examine your side, but there were no obvious signs in your all black clothing. 

"Can you take off your jacket and your shirt, sweetheart?" Yoongi asked softly, but you flinched. "I promise I won't hurt you, and it's nothing I haven't seen before. I need to see your wound."

You squeezed your eyes shut and lifted your hands to remove the jacket, but you didn't have the strength. "Jungkook?"

"Yeah," he responded quickly, eager to help. 

"Can you wait outside?"

Jungkook frowned, almost into a pout, but he nodded. "I'll be in the hallway if you need anything." With one lingering glance that you failed to meet, he went out and quietly shut the door. 

"Doc?"

"Hm?"

"Can you take it off for me? I can't…" 

Yoongi's lips pressed into a hard line and he quickly but carefully removed your jacket from your shoulders. He looked at you cautiously as he tried to think of a delicate way to remove your shirt. "Can you lift your arms?"

You shook your head. "Just cut it off, Doc. Can't wear it again anyway." 

Yoongi nodded and grabbed a pair of scissors. He tugged the bottom hem of your shirt away from your body and began to cut upwards until your shirt hung open. The fabric stuck to your side, but he could see the blood now. "This might hurt," he warned you before he peeled it away.

You sucked in a deep breath, but it wasn't for the pain. As soon as Yoongi pulled your shirt away he would see your scars, see what Joaquin had done to you and how broken you were. And he'd be disgusted by you. As he pulled the fabric down your arms to remove it from your body, you shut your eyes tighter, not wanting to see his reaction. If he had reacted at all, you didn't even hear an intake of breath.

"I'm afraid you're going to need stitches, sweetheart. I'll have to clean it first. I think it will be better if you lay down." 

His voice was calm and even, as if you were any other patient. It wasn't without great effort on his part, but it was easier on both of you if he acted as though that were true for the time being. He held your shoulders while you leaned back slowly, trying to hide your wince at the pain in your side. You weren't fooling him though. It must have hurt as you relied on your well-defined abdominal muscles to do the work for you. You let out a harsh breath and gasped for more once you were laid on your back. He worked quickly to clean your cuts gently with gauze and alcohol so you wouldn't suffer for too long. 

"I'm going to give you something to numb the pain."

"No! Don't knock me out, please," you begged, eyes closed the whole time. 

"It's okay, Val, I won't. It's just to numb the area where it hurts," he assured you before he began to dab topical anesthesia over your skin. The numbing took effect quickly and you finally felt like you could breathe properly. 

"Luckily for you, stitches are my specialty, so you just stay as still as you can for me, sweetheart." He did his best to smile at you, but you didn't see it. He got to work quickly and you were amazed you barely felt anything at all as he sewed you up. It felt like it took a long time, but after a few minutes you relaxed and just waited for it to be over. 

Yoongi did his absolute best to stay focused only on his task, thinking only of the bits of flesh he was piecing together and not the girl he adored who couldn't look at him. It was just two cuts, one about four inches long and another half that length. What made it tricky was where they met at a point. Judging by what he had seen on your back, Joaquin had been going for an 'M', a letter he seemed fond of. Now Yoongi understood what he had meant when he talked about 'reminders' and 'who you belonged to'. He thought he even saw an actual brand on your back just above your left hip. Yoongi was disgusted, but not with you. He felt awful for all the things you had suffered, but he could never hold those things against you or find fault with you for them. It didn't diminish you in his eyes one bit. It only made him want to protect you more, so while he worked he focused on deliberate, even breathing and keeping his face straight just in case you opened your eyes. He thought about trying to speak with you, like he would with the guys when they ended up under his needle, but he didn't think he'd be able to talk and keep it together. He also knew that if you were in the mood to talk you would be the one leading the conversation, trying to act tough and show how brave you were. He knew the kind of vulnerability you were showing by lying like this while he patched you up, and he didn't take that for granted. By the time he told you "all done," you were almost asleep, body and mind too tired to fight it off, but you shook yourself awake, finally opening your eyes as Yoongi put a fresh square of gauze over your wound and taped it down. His hands skimmed the cup of your bra and he felt his cheeks go pink, but neither of you acknowledged it.

"Stay there for a moment, I'll go get you a shirt," he said after helping you sit up. You nodded and waited patiently while he went to his bedroom behind the door at the back of the room. 

Before he returned the main door to the clinic burst open, and Hoseok came barging in. You stared at him with wide eyes as he took your head in his hands and his eyes searched your face. He found you distant and vacant, but you were sitting there in front of him and for the moment that was all that mattered. He didn't really think it through when he leaned down to kiss you, but his lips crushed warmly against yours, and you made a surprised squeak.

"Hoseok!" Namjoon barked, and the man stepped away from you as his high cheeks turned bright red. "What did I say earlier about not forcing her to do things against her will?"

"I'm sorry," Hoseok said to you, not Namjoon. "I'm just so happy you're back, and you're okay."

"Okay is a relative term," Yoongi interrupted angrily. "Everyone get out to give my patient some privacy." He held up an oversized black t-shirt in front of you while the others turned away, retreating into the hallway. 

"Thanks, Doc," you murmured as he slipped the shirt over your head and it engulfed you. 

"I'm gonna beat Hoseok," he muttered. 

"Isn't he a killer?" You smiled. 

"That doesn't mean I can't beat him."

You touched your hand to his chest, just over his beating heart. "I think you're more of a lover than a fighter, oppa. You should keep it that way." You moved to get off the bed but Yoongi put his hand on your shoulder. 

"You should stay here and rest for a while."

You shook your head. "I need to talk to Jimin, and then I want to go to bed."

Yoongi sighed, biting back the idea of sleeping on the bed in here. He knew you'd be more comfortable in your own room; he just wasn't ready to let you go. "Stay here, and I'll get Jimin. I still have a few things for you before you go." So once again you waited as he left the room. You stared blankly at the door and listened as different sets of feet shuffled up and down the hall.

"What do you need, Val?" Jimin asked, coming in quicker than you expected.

You felt around the back pocket of your jeans and pulled out your phone.

"I don't know how long they had it or what they might have done with it," you told him as you held it out for him. Both Jimin and Yoongi stared at the device, mouths open, while you waited for him to take it. "I don't know if they bugged it but it won't bite you."

Jimin huffed a laugh, taking the phone and trying not to think of the last call made on it. "I'll check it out."

"There are some pictures I took on there of some documents. Make sure they get to Namjoon and Seokjin."

Jimin looked surprised. "What are they?"

"I don't know. I didn't have time to look. I just know it has to do with the Triads."

Jimin nodded and rushed off as fast as he'd come. Yoongi filled his place, handing you one of his tiny cups of medicine.

"It's for the pain. The local anesthesia will wear off soon."

You looked at it briefly, about to argue that you didn't need it, but the truth was you didn't want to feel anything else today. You just wanted to be alone and leave your mind for a while. You'd been fighting it since you got in the taxi, trying to hold onto your body until you knew it was safe to let go. You considered asking Yoongi for some of those sleeping pills he'd given you before, but if you slept you couldn't control what you dreamed about, so you decided against it.

"Do you need…anything else?" He asked pointedly. You gazed at him blankly for a moment before you realized what he must mean. You shook your head at him, and he seemed to relax. You took the pills and swallowed them down.

"Can I go now?"

His heart broke at the hollow sound of your voice when you asked. He simply nodded. 

You slipped off the exam table and onto shaky legs. As you walked out into the middle of the house, you were sure the members were lurking around, but you couldn't seem to care. All you thought about was getting to a safe space alone. 

"You need me to take you up?" Jungkook offered when you got to the staircase.

"'M fine," you mumbled back and started slowly up the stairs. From a shadow where you could not see him, Taehyung frowned, and his heart broke further at the memory of having seen your cold vacant eyes once before. 

When you got to your bedroom in Namjoon's mansion, you had no intention of sleeping. You couldn't let yourself, no matter how exhausted you felt, but you wanted to be alone, so you went out to the balcony to sit in. You shouldn't even be here, you told yourself. You didn't belong here. There was only one place you belonged or ever could and you'd just escaped it. Maybe you shouldn't have. Sure, you needed to get those pictures to Namjoon, but you didn't belong here. You shouldn't be here. How many times was Joaquin going to have to remind you of that before you got the message? You pulled your knees up to your chest, curling in on yourself as you let your mind wander away from you until it felt very quiet and you let hours pass you by as you watched the treetops over the neighborhood sway in the breeze. 

You were completely dead to all that passed in the house, even when Jimin came knocking at your bedroom door. When you didn't answer he let himself in. He felt even more confused when you weren't in your bed like he expected, so he peeked in the bathroom, but you weren't there either. Finally, he noticed the door to the balcony was cracked open. 

"Val?" He questioned as he poked his head outside, but you didn't appear to hear, lost in your own world until he touched your arm lightly. 

You jumped a little, your head turning to look at the hand that had disturbed you. You followed it up his arms where his sweatshirt sleeves were pushed up until you met his eyes.

"Have you been crying?" He asked softly. 

If you were, you didn't know it. You lifted your hands to your cheeks but they weren't really wet anymore, although there were probably dried tears there. 

Jimin cleared his throat when you didn't say anything, then he dug into the front pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled out your phone. "You can have this back. It doesn't look like they did anything to it," he informed you as he handed it over. "I printed off the pictures and gave them to Namjoon, so you can have it back. I charged it up, too."

"Thanks," you murmured, looking at the black screen. "Were the pictures anything useful?"

Jimin nodded almost imperceptibly and hummed. "You should come down, they want to talk to you."

You frowned. You weren't really in the mood to talk to anyone, but you didn't seem to have much of a choice. "Can I have a few minutes?" 

Jimin nodded and turned toward the door. "Don't take too long," he smiled before he went inside.

You went to the bathroom and washed your face, brushing your teeth and your hair too, once you realized what a wreck you looked. You wish you'd taken a shower, but you couldn't do that now—you knew you'd just get lost in the water, plus you'd have to change your bandage. It would have to wait. You settled for changing your pants. You left Yoongi's shirt on though. You didn't know what the smell was, but it felt warm and comforting. You stood staring too long at the bags under your eyes and the frown lines around your mouth until you finally forced yourself to go downstairs. 

You were heading straight for Namjoon's office when you heard your name called from the dining room—a room you'd never been to before. Many voices filled the room as you came closer. Jungkook and Jimin were still moving around, but everything seemed to settle around the long dinner table just as you stood in the doorway. At either end of the table sat Namjoon and Seokjin, and if you didn't know, you wouldn't be able to tell which was the head. To Namjoon's right, Jungkook was taking his seat. A place was open, presumably for Taehyung, and beside that Yoongi sat on Seokjin's left. To his right was a Hoseok who was looking lighter than you had ever seen before. On his side was Jimin and, between him and Namjoon, another empty space without a place setting.

"Won't you join us, Val?" Namjoon asked, somehow finding the perfect balance between politeness and familiarity. The offer was warm, but not insistent.

"You can sit here, Val," Jungkook smiled, gesturing to the empty chair between him and Yoongi.

Your brow furrowed. "Isn't that Taehyung's seat?" 

"No, Taehyung's seat is over here." Jimin draped his arm over the empty chair to his right. 

"Taehyung won't be joining us tonight," Namjoon said quietly, trying not to sound serious, but failing. 

"Oh," was all you could respond. "I thought we were going to talk about the pictures."

"We will, in a little while. Right now we just want to eat," Namjoon smiled.

Why was he acting like this was normal? You'd never even seen them eat together since you got there, much less been asked to eat with them, other than the night you had pizza with Jungkook, Hoseok and Yoongi. You noticed the latter watching you for the first time. 

"You haven't eaten all day," Yoongi commented when he could tell you wanted to refuse. 

"I'm not that hungry," you admitted, but you took the seat that was offered anyway. 

"Just eat some rice," Yoongi whispered to you.

"You all seem happy. Are you celebrating something?" You asked quietly as the men started picking up food with their chopsticks. Beside your bowl of rice was a set of metal chopsticks that you looked at nervously. You'd used chopsticks before, but never without embarrassing yourself. Thankfully someone had the foresight to give you a fork as well, even though no one else was using one. 

"It's a good day for Bangtan, thanks to you, Val," Seokjin smiled at you. It wasn't unusual for him to smile at you, but usually it was a diplomatic one, or perhaps a bit mischievous. This one seemed genuinely happy, and with you, no less.

"What did I do?" You asked, eyes wide as you looked from one end of the table to the other. 

Namjoon swallowed and cleared his throat, placing his chopsticks down before he spoke to you. "The pictures you took had information regarding the locations of the Triads' warehouses, some of which we did not know about. We will be putting together a plan of attack once we get some other matters sorted out, but for now this is a big win for us. So, thank you, Val." Namjoon gave you a genuine smile as well.

You pursed your lips as you thought. "There were other papers in that file. I couldn't get pictures of them because my phone died. Maybe I could go back and-"

Namjoon shook his head at you. "You've done more than enough, Val. It was a big risk even for you to do that. You didn't have to, but you did. I'll never ask you to do anything like that for us."

"But I-"

"You're safe now, here with us. I hope you never go back there," Namjoon continued. 

Your eyes felt hot, stinging with tears, so you looked down at your food instead. Only now it wasn't just a bowl of plain rice. There was a small piece of what you guessed was fatty meat resting on top. 

"It's pork belly," Yoongi smiled, leaning over to you. "It's kind of like bacon, but better."

You looked at it curiously before you speared it with your fork and put it in your mouth. The warm piece of fat practically melted over your taste buds.

"Oh my God," you moaned, catching everyone's eye before they started to laugh. 

"Here, try this," Yoongi smiled as he placed a piece of chicken in your bowl. "It's dak galbi."

You tried to repeat his words before you tasted the meat. "That's so good," you moaned after chewing.

"If you're staying, you'll have to learn to use chopsticks," Hoseok teased as Yoongi placed yet more food in your bowl, smiling incandescently at you.

You snorted. "I don't think I'll be staying that long."

"Nonsense," Namjoon interjected between chewing and a drink of water. "You can stay here as long as you want or need."

"Oh, I don't –I mean, you don't have to…" The steady, meaningful look Namjoon gave you silenced you.

"You have nowhere else to go that's safe. You can stay here until that's no longer the case." You swallowed, feeling the heaviness of his words, so he hastened to add, "You're not a prisoner though. If you want to leave, you can. You just don't have to."

The air filling the room started to feel a little awkward as you and Namjoon looked away from each other. Lucky, Jimin stepped in.

"Show her how to do ssam," Jimin said with a full mouth. 

Jungkook hummed excitedly as he chewed and then swallowed. "This is ssam," he told you, holding up a perilla leaf and you repeated the word. "This is ssamjang." He spread a red paste in the center of the leaf.

"Ssamjang."

"Mhm. Then you put whatever in it. You want dak galbi?" You nodded excitedly and Jungkook smiled his bunny smile as he placed a large piece of chicken in the center of the leaf. Then you watched as he expertly folded the leaf into a small wrap and held it out for you. You took it gently from his hand and didn't hesitate to shove the whole wrap into your mouth. You hummed appreciatively as you chewed, making everyone laugh again.

"Think you can make your own?" Jungkook asked.

"Yeah. But I don't think I remember all the words," you giggled.

"I'll help you," Yoongi encouraged, over the moon to see you enjoying yourself.

"Thank you, oppa," you smiled back.

Namjoon choked on his water and set the glass down heavily on the table. "Oppa?" He coughed.

"Looks like Val is learning all kinds of words," Jin smirked.

"Before long she'll know so much Korean we won't be able to talk in code around her," Hoseok added.

You blushed and turned to the food in an attempt to ignore their teasing. You felt lighter because everyone at the table was being so nice to you. But you still felt a sadness that wouldn't stop tugging on you, like a child pulling on your shirt, demanding to be acknowledged. Maybe it was just that everything was so new, with no way to trust it. Maybe it was the Taehyung-shaped hole at the dinner table, missing out on the moment of joy because he couldn't stand to be around you. Maybe it was the voice whispering in the back of your head that you didn't belong here, that you belonged to someone else. But you tried to push it back, to listen to Jimin talk  about the K-Drama he was currently binging and whatever other mundane things they found to talk about while Yoongi helped you fill yourself on delicious food.

"Are you eating too? Or just giving all your food to me?" You asked him quietly while Jimin and Seokjin debated something you couldn't follow as their Korean leaked into conversation more and more. 

"I'm full just watching you eat," he replied with warm eyes and a smile.

"Well, I'm actually full, so you should eat," you encouraged him, returning his warmth. 

Taehyung sat in the corner at the end of the bar with a whiskey in his hand. Namjoon always liked there to be someone he could trust, a member of the inner circle, at the club in the evening, and even though he intended to go later, Taehyung had volunteered to go early. He couldn't look at you right now. But that was his fault, not yours.

Ever since he heard the things Joaquin was saying to you when he held you prisoner, Taehyung couldn't stop going over every detail of your relationship. He replayed every word he'd said to you and imagined how you must have felt. When he called you his. When he said you belonged to him. He'd never truly meant it in that way. He meant he wanted you and he didn't want others to have you. But now even those thoughts made him sick with himself. What right did he have to claim any part of you?

And then there were the scars. He had respected your boundaries when it came to them. You would get very upset if he tried to remove your shirt, so he left it…except that last time you were together. He'd never gotten a good look at any of them, though he had felt some. He knew they were all over your back, even if it wasn't a very large canvas. He didn't want to imagine what you must have endured to receive them. Yoongi had been shaken up after you left him, and Jungkook pressed him to talk about your scars, even though Hoseok asked him not to. Yoongi couldn't help it; he couldn't seem to bear it on his own. Cuts made all over your back, big and small, marks of one man's vanity and cruelty that would never leave you. Taehyung didn't want to leave you either, but he didn't deserve you after the way he'd treated you, and how you must have felt. He couldn't blame you for wanting nothing to do with him. 

Jimin could tell that—unlike you, hours earlier—Taehyung was burdened by too many thoughts when he reached out to put a hand on the man's shoulder. 

"It's not good for your health to think that hard, Taehyungie," Jimin chuckled as he sat on the stool beside him. Taehyung's frown deepened. "She looked alright at dinner."

"Good," Taehyung mumbled back, barely there. 

"She asked about you."

Taehyung waved his hand as if to brush the words away. "I don't want to know. I wish she wouldn't think of me at all. Wish she'd never met me."

Jimin sensed perhaps his partner had had enough to drink for the evening. "You still love her, Taehyungie."

He nodded. "She deserves someone who will love her better."

Jimin pondered if he should say the thought in his mind, and as usual, decided he should. "You know, I think Yoongi has fallen for her already, too."

"And Jungkook and Namjoon and I think Hoseok too." Taehyung sighed. "They'd all be better for her than me. She deserves all of them."

"Careful what you say, that may come true."

"She needs to be taken care of, Jimin."

Jimin took a deep breath and ruffled the hair at the back of Taehyung's head. "I'm sure she will be. And I'm sure you can learn to love her better." Taehyung merely shrugged. "If it's any consolation, I don't love her."

Taehyung downed what was left of his drink and then turned to Jimin and gave him a hazy smile. "You might."

Jimin shook his head, pushing Tae's hair back off his forehead and smiling sadly at him. "I think you've had enough for tonight. Let me take you home and take care of you, yeah?"

"Can't go home," Tae slurred.

"Yeah, you can. She already went to bed before we left. And I'll take you down to my room, okay? She won't see you, I promise."

"Good," Tae mumbles as he lets Jimin pull him from his barstool and straps his arm over his shoulder. "She hates me."

"I don't think that's true, baby. I think she's just messed up," Jimin admitted as he led Taehyung away from the bar. 

"I miss her," he whispered. 

"Don't worry, Tae, baby. You'll find your way back."

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