#syllarchive

“I haven’t seen you here before. Are you meeting someone?” Taehyung slid the man his drinks as he asked. Since one of the girls had just started a set, he was the only customer at the bar and Taehyung thought he’d better at least try to earn a tip.

“Nah,” the man said, knocking back the drink at once, and tapping his finger on the bar for another. “Just here for the scenery and a few drinks.”

“Ah,” Taehyung nodded in understanding. Of course he was here for what most people came for, the T and A. “Well if you need anything, let me know. My name’s Taehyung.” He pointed at the little gold pin fastened to his vest, then loosened his tie, trying to will away the sudden nerves, and trying to stop staring at the man’s hands. It was proving a difficult task and he was stuck trying to figure out how a person’s hands could be attractive in the first place.

“Jungkook,” the man responded, and Taehyung looked up to be greeted by his new acquaintance’s smile, sending a rush of life surging through him. “Tell me about this place, Taehyung.”

“Ah, not much to tell really,” he said, as he pulled himself together and poured another glass. “Just another strip joint.” Taehyung slid him the second drink and made sure to choose his words carefully. “They keep it pretty upscale though. The boss kicks out anyone he thinks might cause trouble. They let me keep a good stock back here too, high quality shit.”

Jungkook took the drink again in a gulp, then grabbed up his water. “You’re not kidding,” he chuckled, winking at Taehyung and flashing that smile again and somehow the stars made it back into Taehyung’s eyes.

“How long have you been bartending?” Jungkook asked, folding his hands on the bar. “The friend that suggested this place said the drinks were the best part. I assume he meant because of you.”

The focus on him was a little overwhelming. Taehyung never thought he was great at reading signals, but with all the mostly naked women flitting about left and right, it was more than flattering that this man was sat here staring at him with those intense eyes instead, looking inviting in every way possible against the backdrop of flashing lights and smoke. The collared shirt he wore was suddenly feeling a little warm and Taehyung’s hands started fidgeting with his tie again.

“Just a few weeks. But I’ve been making drinks my whole life. Family trade.” Jungkook nodded and swiveled again in his seat, attention drawn elsewhere. Taehyung had learned everything about bartending from his father. He hadn't, however, learned how to cope with the man’s death, and the memory of his loss was enough to bring him back down to earth. To remember how he had ended up here doing what he loved in a place he hated.

But then, just as quickly, Jungkook’s attention was back on him, big, brown eyes studying his face, lips still curved in a friendly smile and Taehyung couldn’t help but smile too, welcoming the distraction.

“Do you want me to take your jacket?” he offered, thinking it must be getting warm in here wearing that. Although he selfishly just wanted to see more of the man’s physique. Jungkook seemed well-filled out and now that he couldn’t ignore his interest, Taehyung was dying to see more.

“No thanks, I’m not staying long,” Jungkook said quickly and turned his back to the bar again. Taehyung noticed he was fidgeting a little, swinging this way and that, focusing and refocusing on parts of the club. Was he nervous? Was Taehyung making him nervous? He hoped his ogling hadn’t been that obvious and even though he knew it was dangerous to care, the last thing he wanted was to chase him away.

“Another?” Taehyung offered, pulling away the empty glass.

“Not if I want to drive home tonight,” Jungkook laughed and took another sip of his water, attention now focused on the stage. No, not the stage, just past it where someone Taehyung would be happy to never see again was standing, schmoozing with the customers, no doubt.

“That’ll be the boss, Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung offered, desperately wanting to continue the conversation. “You’ll want to stay on his good side.”

Jungkook stayed focused on Namjoon a little longer before turning back to the bar.

“Thanks for the drinks, Taehyung.” He pulled a few bills from inside his jacket and laid them on the counter, sliding them towards the flustered bartender. And as Taehyung reached out to pick them up, Jungkook didn’t move his hand as he expected, the contact of skin on skin sending prickles surging up his arm. Taehyung looked up and met Jungkook’s eyes again, eyes he was quite sure he had already fallen for that were smiling at him again.

“I’ll be back, if only just for you,” Jungkook said in a voice he could only barely hear above the music. “Since my friend was right,” he added, but Taehyung barely noticed, the thudding of his heart drowning out anything otherwise audible. All he could do was swallow and nod.

After Jungkook left, Taehyung couldn’t keep the smile off his face. For the first time in weeks, he felt a spark of happiness, the slightest inkling that maybe someone could care about whether he lived or died. And even if he was reading all the signals wrong and the man was straighter than an arrow, at least he’d secured a nice, tipping customer who appreciated a good drink. He took to cleaning the glasses, letting his mind drift to the image of Jungkook, one that he hoped would get him through the night.

“Who was that, Tae?” Taehyung’s back stiffened at the voice and he had to fight against his own muscles to stay relaxed. He swirled the now dry glass in his hand, the rag clearly finished in its duty.

“Just a customer, I guess. Seems like a nice guy,” he said, praying he sounded nonchalant. If Namjoon suspected anything, he’d ban the guy from coming back and Taehyung desperately didn’t want that to happen. Namjoon’s hand landed on his shoulder, and the older man leaned close to him, sizing him up with cold, penetrating eyes that stirred up a dark emotion inside Taehyung’s chest; a hatred so strong the bitter taste of it was already seeping into his mouth.

Namjoon took the now very clean glass from Taehyung’s hands and held it up to the lights. “Look, I know you don’t want to be here. But I think I’ve been pretty kind to you, Tae.” He sat down the glass on its stack and smiled at Taehyung. Despite the gesture, his eyes stayed empty, sucking away all of the warmth Jungkook had left him with and, along with the use of his late father’s nickname for him, were sending his emotions into a frenzy. “You work for me now, and I generously let you keep your tips and your life. If you’re not happy working for me, I’ll be glad to cut your throat. I think those are pretty simple terms.”

Taehyung pursed his lips and Namjoon let out a hearty laugh, slapping him on the back.

“Listen, if that guy comes back, keep an eye on him for me. He was giving me narc vibes. He didn’t even seem interested in the stage. If you get any hints that he’s planning to cause trouble, tell me. Think you can handle that?”

Taehyung nodded reluctantly, making a quiet vow to himself that he would protect Jungkook at all costs. Experience taught him that Namjoon had a knack for destroying everything that meant anything to anyone, and even though Taehyung had only just met him, he knew Jungkook didn’t deserve any ire from Namjoon.

“I like you, kid, and the customers do too. Don’t give me any reason not to keep you here.” With that, Namjoon left the bar and headed back out into the crowd and before Taehyung could process any of his thoughts, he was accosted by a rush of customers. He went about making orders, swallowing his anger and returning to his numbed normalcy. In truth, he wanted to throw a tantrum, to upend the entire bar and leave a trail of wasted liquor and broken glass. But now he had a mission, however small. And the silent rebellion against his tormentor coupled with the memory of Jungkook’s smiling face was enough to keep him going, for a few hours at least.

After his shift was done, Taehyung tugged off his vest, emptying the pockets of the tips he’d gotten all night. As he counted through the bills, a little white card fell from his hands, landing on the floor at his feet. Curious, he bent to pick it up, trying to remember who had given him a business card and why.

“I can help you” it read in scratchy, black ink. Even more confused, he narrowed his eyes and flipped it over, not sure what kind of prank someone was trying to play. But Taehyung’s eyes went wide at the text and he shoved the money and the card into the pocket of his jeans before rushing out of the side door to his car.

“Jungkook” it had read, with a phone number scrawled beneath it.

Y/N: I hope you're ready for me.

The sensible side of you knew it wasn’t healthy to want to medicate your rage with a man. The sensible side of you knew you would have to face your problems and you could be using now to brainstorm a solution instead of racing towards a temporary relief. But you had no intentions of being sensible tonight. Anger was rolling off you in waves, expanding in the cabin of your car each time your mother’s face lit up your phone screen. Though you did find a small amount of joy in pressing the ignore button over and over.

Yoongi: It’s not me that needs to be ready, princess. Almost here?

And in between calls, a message from someone you actually wanted to hear from.

Y/N: 5 min

You texted back quickly, a vague awareness that driving this fast down a side street while texting was a dangerous gamble.

Yoongi’s office was closer than his house, and by some miracle he had still been there working. Though owning half the car lots and a few popular nightclubs in town always seemed to keep him working late hours, so maybe not that much of a miracle. Four minutes later, you whipped into the parking lot and checked your face in the rearview mirror before sliding from your car and heading inside, thanking your mother for her advice for the first time tonight. Your lipstick still looked great.

Yoongi was sat back in his desk chair, eyes drifting from papers on his desk up to your figure standing in the doorway, the dim lights of his deserted office in contrast with his white t-shirt and striking blonde hair. Since he was dressed so casually, you thought he must not have had any clients that day, instead burying himself in paperwork like he constantly did.

When he didn't move from his chair, instead staring at you with expectant eyes you made your way across the office floor to stand next to his desk. He smirked up at you without words, hands finding your waist and nudging you in front of him, sitting you back onto the edge of his desk.

"It's pretty rude of you to come here looking this good,” he said in a quiet voice, fingers tracing the thin fabric on your hips. “You're way too dolled up for coming to see me.”

"Well, I am coming from my own arranged marriage engagement party after all," you responded bitterly.

He chuckled and slid a hand down the front of your dress, thumb stroking against the bare skin of your exposed thigh. You reluctantly swallowed the intense desire for him to continue.

"Then I'm glad I get to see you after such a happy occasion," he continued, eyes still on your thigh for another moment before he stood and focused on your face. Even as your eyelids wavered under his stare, you couldn’t place the power he had over you, easily quelling you with only a look. Call it aura or spirit, but something about him always managed to surround you and command obedience. But you didn’t mind. For the most part, you wanted to do whatever he asked anyway, a submission few were privileged to.

"Me and not your future husband, it would seem," he continued talking while you got lost watching his lips. One side of his mouth curved into a smile before he planted a lazy kiss on your cheek, fingers still conveniently on your thigh, brushing against you in soft strokes, already fanning the spark awakened in you just by being near him. “He bad in bed or something?”

“Uh…I wouldn’t know,” you admitted. Your bad habit returned as you chewed on your bottom lip at the thought of Hoseok. Near the end of your drive over your anger had slowly subsided, and as it cleared you remembered that Hoseok was a nice guy who you'd called a friend since childhood and who was tossed into this just like you were. You promised yourself you'd call him tomorrow and apologize and maybe put your heads together on how you would get out of this mess. But for now, your sole mission was to exorcise your anger in a specific way.

"Let’s get out of here, I’m sick of this office today. My place?" he asked, shoving his phone in his pocket and pulling your body into his, wrapping you in his arm and his intoxicating scent.

“Ok. I’m pretty sure your hot tub would make me feel better. Or if you feel bad for me, you could give me a massage,” you tested. He hadn’t done it often, but Yoongi was so skilled with his hands you almost thought you would be happy with him rubbing away your tension and then letting you fall asleep on his chest. Almost.

A smile, a surprisingly tender kiss on your temple, and he was pulling you out the door with him by your hand. It was sometimes embarrassing how much you had come to depend on him. Even though your relationship was based solely on sex, Yoongi always managed to leave you you feeling calm and cared for. He originally called you his princess as a joke, a slight to the privileged life you were born into. But actions spoke louder than words and you often left his presence feeling like one too.

You were already in his car, speeding out of the parking lot before he asked, “So you’ve never fucked him. Do you even know the guy?” You smiled to yourself at the question. You knew what you and Yoongi were to each other, what this was. But it still made you feel some kind of joy that he cared, that he asked at all. You really hadn’t expected him to give a damn.

“I’ve known him all my life,” you sighed. “Trust me when I say that doesn’t make it any easier to be forced to marry him.” You didn’t want to talk about it anymore, the entire situation threatening to fire up your anger all over again. “Let’s forget about it, it’s not something you have to worry about.”

“Mm. As long as you still bring that ass to me, it doesn’t matter.” He reached across the car, hand gently squeezing your thigh. “You belong to me, princess.”

“I think I belong to myself actually,” you countered playfully, resting your hand on his. The sentiment, dripping with his possessiveness, and his hand, grasping your skin, was much more the direction you wanted the night to go and you were already wound up and ready to start your stress relief. But then he pulled his hand away and in your disappointment, your hand followed his, settling on his thigh instead.

“And yet here we are again, speeding off to my place so I can make you scream my name into a pillow.” He spared a glance down at your already creeping fingers, now stroking up his thigh, and then refocused on the road. But you could see the rise in the corners of his lips. In the quiet moments that followed, you traced along his thigh until you reached your goal, rolling your fingers gently over the slow growth in his pants.

“We’ll be there soon,” he said as a comfort to your clear neediness, but it wasn’t enough to deter you. The movement against his jeans had already sparked a reaction in him, the lump in his lap growing partly due to the friction you imparted and partly, you were sure, thanks to his own anticipation. Your fingers pressed against it, and you heard him swallow, saw the rise and fall of his chest quicken just a little.

“Don’t start something you can't finish,” was his only warning. As neighborhoods flew by, you knew it wouldn’t be long before you got to his house. But he had already stoked the fire with tonight’s barely there touches and you felt more than a little rebellious besides.

He didn’t react as your hand unbuttoned his jeans and slid inside, palming his half-hard cock until it was fully erect. But he did finally grace you with a groan when you pulled it free, air hissing through his teeth.

“Princess…” he warned again. An out-of-character, second warning. It seemed he was in a patient mood tonight and you weren't sure if you wanted that or not.

Eyeballing his cock in your hand, the deep shade of pink reminding you that you hadn’t seen him in a few days and he probably wanted this just as much as you did, your thumb slid over the head, dipping just so into the slit, and Yoongi hissed again. You knew you were already pushing it. Yoongi was always adamant about being in control, always doing the teasing and giving the orders, never putting up with your, admittedly, weak attempts at dominance. But, you rationalized, what guy would turn down a hand job in a nice car?

Your hand moved across him in long strokes, urging the precum just peeking at the head to spill down the side and over your fingers. When you raised your hand to your lips, tongue slipping across the liquid, certain he was watching you much more than the road, he groaned and you felt a sudden jerk as the car slowed and came to a stop. You looked around, seeing him parked on the side of the street in a nondescript neighborhood that was definitely not his own, rows of houses poorly lit by dim streetlights.

"Since you can't wait like a good girl, I guess we’ll get started right here." His hand was in your hair, a rough tug pulling your body closer to his as he leaned across the center console. And instead of kissing your waiting lips like he knew you wanted, his mouth went to your neck, a sharp bite making you cry out. The rush of his sudden aggression had the adrenaline already coursing through your chest.

“You always think you can get away with whatever you want, don’t you?” he growled into your neck, and before you could speak he was piercing you again, another hard bite lower on your neck, chased by his tongue, lathing across the spots of bruises you’d likely have tomorrow. You cried out again, beyond addicted to the pain, more than addicted to everything he did.

He leaned up, hand still in your hair, the fingers of his free hand now circling the wet skin he’d bitten as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. “You want my cock so bad that you can’t wait ten more minutes?”

“I just wanted to make you feel good, baby,” you whined your poor excuse, feeling the simmering heat burn between your thighs at his words.

“You do that on my terms,” he said flatly, eyes darting to his lap, peering at his stiff length still leaking arousal, then looked back up at you. “Suck,” he ordered, fingers tightening in your hair. You winced at the pain and his hand loosened just a little, but he still held tight. You looked up at him and then your eyes darted to the window just past him. It may have been after midnight and the windows may have been slightly tinted, but all it would take is one nosy neighbor to cause a scene.

“Oh, you weren’t worried before about anyone noticing you stroking my cock, but now privacy is suddenly an issue?” He let go of your hair, leaning his seat back just a bit and lifted his arms behind his head, raising an expectant eyebrow at you. “Suck, I said. Make me feel good.”

You swallowed, not sure if this was the kind of punishment you had bargained for, but shamelessly wanting it anyway. You gave him another glance before leaning up in your seat onto your knees and bringing your face down in his lap.

“Good girl, go on,” Yoongi prodded, hand already sliding down to cup your ass through your dress. Steadying yourself with one arm, you wrapped your other hand around the base of his cock and slid your tongue across the head, savoring the taste of his pre-cum, bitter and a little salty.

Your tongue traced slowly around the tip and you intended to make a full effort of it, exploring every bit of his length, but a sharp slap on your ass made you yelp and look up at him in surprise.

“I didn't say to play with your food, princess. I told you to suck. my. cock.” He punctuated the last few words with more hard slaps against your backside, the last drawing a whimper from your lips. “If you disobey me again tonight, I swear you’ll be edging for a month.”

With a threat hanging over you that you knew he’d make good on, you leaned forward again, this time sliding your lips down until you reached the base of his length. As you lifted your lips and slid down again, his hand went back to rubbing your ass, a contented sigh from his lips reaching your ears.

For all his blustering and roughness, Yoongi always seemed to melt under your touch in rare moments when he let you focus on him. That and he had been weak for a blowjob since you'd met him.

You continued, suckling as you bobbed your head in his lap and Yoongi’s moans changed from shaky breaths to deeper, barely audible moans. His free hand landed in your hair, gentle strokes letting you know he wanted nothing more than for you to keep going.

“Fuck girl, your mouth…” he groaned, and you increased your speed, hand back to pumping the base. Never the loud lover, each deep moan that passed Yoongi’s lips felt like a quiet praise. You could feel his muscles tightening, sure he would be unwinding soon.

Loud voices from outside broke your rhythm and you froze in panic, afraid to lift your head. You could feel Yoongi’s thighs tense, felt him sit up a little. Shit! you panicked. What would happen if someone called the cops? As bitter as your family sometimes made you, you weren't really planning to ruin their image by having your face plastered across the papers for giving a blowjob in public.

A few tense moments of quiet, and then you felt Yoongi’s thighs slacken. “Relax. Relax, princess. It’s just some drunk kids, they can't see us.” He stroked a hand across your hair. “Keep going, I plan to cum in that pretty mouth of yours.”

With his cock still in your mouth you worked back up to speed and his breath chased you there, letting you know he really was on edge. His hips started jerking up into your mouth, and you removed your hand and tried to relax your jaw and take him in fully without gagging, the size of him making it a difficult task. Yoongi’s hands held onto your hair tighter as he all but took over your job, pumping himself up into your mouth to meet you. Typical Yoongi, you thought in amusement. Even when you tried to make it about him, he still found a way to be in control.

“Sh…shit…” his hips jerked up one last time and you felt the warm, bitter liquid on the back of your tongue, spilling into your mouth and down your throat in short bursts.

His body relaxed back into his seat, hands falling from your hair and you leaned up, licking your lips, quite sure that your lipstick was probably non-existent at this point, but more than pleased with yourself for not gagging. You gave him a satisfied look as he watched you through half-lidded eyes, and slid a slow tongue across your lips.

“You impatient little shit,” he cursed in a breathless voice and you giggled, settling back into the passenger seat, feeling more than satisfied with yourself.

His cheeks were a rosy pink, dark pupils expanded in lust, and his eyes were following your every move. You could tell he was calculating, trying to decide how to pay you back, probably in both a good and a bad way.

He reached down, shoving himself back into his pants, and sitting up. “Take off your panties, dirty girl.”

You tugged at the edges of your dress without hesitation, lifting up to pull the material up over your hips. Your fingers slipped under the edge of your lacy, black almost-nothings and your eyes fell to him, watching his reaction as you slid them down your legs. His eyes followed them the entire way to the floor.

Yoongi breathed a short laugh, then started the car and took off again. His hand was on your thighs seconds later, smacking the soft flesh there. “Spread,” he ordered.

And for the rest of the ride you were at his mercy. His fingers teased your wet slit, varying his attention between your sensitive clit and your dripping hole, just enough to leave you dizzy and breathless, but never taking you far enough. You closed your eyes under his touch, searching in vain for your orgasm between his movements.

As his fingers curled into your folds for what felt like the millionth time, you moaned out, over sensitive and understimulated at once.

“You feel so tight, princess. How can you be this tight after taking my cock almost every night?”

Your eyes fluttered open at his words and you realized you were no longer moving, already at his place, the beautiful house looming over the vehicle. And part of you couldn't wait to get inside, maybe soak in the hot tub until you fell asleep. But a much more important part of you needed release to come first. Now.

You relaxed into his hand, his plunging fingers finally dragging you over the edge.

“Gonna cum?” you heard him whisper.

“Y-ye…” You didn’t want to speak. If he just stayed…right there…you…

And without warning, his hand pulled away and your eyes snapped open, barely biting back the rage encouraging you to scream from the loss of contact.

“You… son of a bitch,” you seethed and were met with a cackle. Yes, Yoongi cackled as he swung open his car door and stepped out, leaving you contemplating how easy it would be to snap his neck.

Moments later, he pulled open the passenger door and took your hand, guiding you out of the seat and pulling you into his chest as your dress fell back down over your hips.

“I told you, we do things on my terms, princess. You cum when I say.” As if you didn't know. As if he hadn't been dragging out your pleasure for months now. As if keeping you wanting and on edge wasn’t his favorite game to play.

His hands slid your dress back up, baring your ass to any neighbor that wanted to see, panties lost somewhere on the floor of his car. He cupped and squeezed the flesh of your backside, pressing more, softer bites into the skin of your neck.

“Yoongi,” you whimpered, the need between your thighs intolerable, lost again between his hands and lips, so much that you were unprepared when those same hands lifted your body up. Your instincts had you wrapping your legs around his waist, holding onto his arms. You heard his foot kick the door of the car closed, while his lips finally, mercifully landed on your own, blessing you with a kiss at last. Somewhere between his lips pressing against yours and pulling away, you found he had carried you all the way inside the house. Yoongi was staring at you, breath coming quickly, and the closeness of his face to yours, his body to yours was unbearable.

“Please, I need you so bad,” you begged, back pressed against the front door as he held you, wetness pressed against his shirt. He ran a slow tongue across his lips before carrying you into a room just off the entrance, the kitchen, laying you back on a table.

“You’re really on edge, aren’t you? All I have to do is…” he punctuated, slipping a lone finger inside you and you lifted your hips, begging for more without words.

“God, the sight of you worked up for me on this table. Why haven’t I fucked you here before?” His finger prodded your wetness, thumb just grazing your button, and already you could have come undone.

“F..fuck me here now, please,” you cried.

He pulled his hand away, stepping between your legs and leaning over your body. “You think you deserve that, after the shit you pulled tonight? I should leave you on edge for the rest of the night.”

“Please, Yoongi…”

“Beg more,” his voice rumbled as he pressed two fingers back inside of you, curled just enough to have you crying out again.

“Please..let m-me cum, please.” As much as you wanted him, you knew this was his favorite part. It brought him some kind of high, listening to you pleading for him, making sure you knew your pleasure was at his mercy. His free hand reached up, tugging down your dress just past your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh of them with his palm.

“Tell me what you want, dirty girl. Say it,” he whispered, and you could feel his renewed hardness pressing against your thigh while his relentless fingers continued their writhing inside of you.

“Your cock. I want your cock inside me now, please!”

You heard a deep groan, fingers falling away from your sex leaving you clenched around nothing. You heard him shifting off his pants before feeling his hands spreading your thighs again.

"C-condom…." you said, a quiet reminder.

“…Fuck,” he groaned, but complied. It was the one thing on which he’d never fought you. And luckily he had them spread all over the house, getting one from what sounded like a hall drawer and hurrying back to your open legs. Without ceremony, he thrusted into you, easily burying himself in your worn-out wetness.

“Tell me who your pussy belongs to,” Yoongi’s voice now raspy, fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thighs.

“You, it’s yours,” you moaned back, your now free breasts bouncing as he pounded into you, your body already wanting to give out at any moment.

“Good girl, my dirty princess. You belong to me.” Yoongi’s hands slid up to your hips, pulling you closer, your ankles resting on his shoulders.

“No one can fuck you like this huh,” he panted between deep thrusts. “No one can make you feel this good, huh?” You couldn’t remember when it had started, your head too clouded by his movements, but his claims of ownership were definitely a running theme tonight. And though you weren’t arguing with them, he had never spoken all night about it before. Some part of your consciousness held onto the idea, wondering if somehow he was…jealous. That maybe he was worried deep down about your potential husband to be and what it might mean for the two of you.

Your hips jerked when you felt his thumb slip over your sensitive nub, rubbing light circles against it. Accompanied by the deep, fulfilling stretch of him inside of you, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

“Cum for me, princess. Let me feel you come apart on my cock.”

You fell into your orgasm on his command, your hips lifting up as his hips continued, his thumb refusing to let up. You heard his curses between your own moans, squeezing him tighter than you could remember as the heat between your legs finally dispersed. His groans chased your whimpers as his hips stuttered, fingers now back on your hips, digging into the flesh as he came.

The room was quiet afterwards, save for the heavy breathing from you both. Yoongi slid out of you and shrugged your legs from his shoulders unceremoniously.

"One of these days you're going to let me in raw,” he growled, and you could hear him slipping off the condom as he padded out of the room.

“Unless you want a little Yoongi running around, I’d suggest you keep the condoms nearby,” you called after him. Sitting up from the table and feeling the mess you had made of yourself, you made a conscious decision to drop off this particular dress for dry cleaning yourself. A wall clock told you it was already after one and you wondered how you would get home now, since someone made the very smart decision to leave your car at his office. Not that your sex-focused brain had complained at the time.

“Why did we even leave your office, Yoongi? You could've just fucked me on your desk.” You slid off his kitchen table, and touched a hand to your now tender neck and shoulder. “Now you’ve got to drive me all the way back there.”

Your eyes went wide when he returned from the hall, stark naked and looking good enough to eat. He was swinging a pair of silver handcuffs off of one finger, the most shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“I'm not taking you anywhere. I'm nowhere near done with you tonight, princess.”

The sharp, chiming sound was almost piercing. It bled through the layers of his consciousness, dragging Hoseok from its depths where he was reminded again that hard liquor and beer were never a good combination. He let out an audible groan as the noise continued, vaguely aware that it was an important sound, but mostly irritated that he wasn’t still asleep.

He sat up at a crawl, temples already pounding, and opened sleep-heavy eyes. A well-appointed living room greeted him, beiges and whites and the occasional pink reflecting too much sunlight from a set of balcony doors for his leftover drunken stupor. Where the hell was he?

He heard a clinking sound and then footsteps coming toward him, squinting a glance in their direction. Jin came around the corner, only wearing a pair of sweatpants and gracing Hoseok with an unwanted view of the bare expanse of his muscular chest, holding a glass of clear liquid in his hand. He gave him a knowing, mischievous smile.

“The proverbial prince awakens at last,” he chuckled and Hoseok put his head in his hands, another audible groan seeming appropriate. “You really need to come out with me more, you’ve forgotten your limit,” Jin said before handing him the glass.

“Drink up, Hobi,” he encouraged, and Hoseok breathed a laugh at the old nickname. As he chugged the strangely fruity contents of the glass, Jin picked up a mobile phone from the coffee table in front of them. Hoseok’s phone.

“This thing has been going off since four this morning. You sure you’re not hiding any possessive girlfriends in your pocket?”

“If I was hiding any secret girlfriends,” Hoseok grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “I’d dump them as soon as they called me at four in the morning.” He traded Jin the empty glass for his phone.

That explained the obnoxious sound from before. Eight missed calls. Five from mom. Two from Jimin. One from you. His heart did a strange rise and fall at your name. Like it always did, he thought bitterly and lifted himself from Jin’s couch with a bit of effort. Still in his jeans and button-up shirt from last night, he felt stale. Jin’s hangover cure was already forcibly waking him up, but Hoseok wasn’t sure he wanted it. It was easier to drown in liquor and loud music while practically naked girls swarmed Jin and, to a lesser extent, him.

He could hear Jin in the kitchen again. Jin, his best friend since college and surrogate big brother. Although he was only just over a year older than Hoseok, he had some kind of natural wisdom that often got Hoseok out of hot water before he even knew he was in it. And since his father and grandfather were gone now, he had been leaning on their friendship more than was fair, but Jin had been there for him at every step. If he was a petty man, he might find himself jealous of Jin more often. But everyone had their secrets, even perfect big brothers, and Jin was no exception.

As the smells of whatever Jin was cooking started to fill the room, Hoseok headed for the balcony, already pressing the contact photo to dial his mother.

“Hoseok,” she answered after two rings, voice already admonishing. It wasn’t right, really, after what he had been put through yesterday. But if he would’ve already died for his mother before, he would die a hundred times over for her now that it was only the two of them. He didn't want to fight.

“I know, mom. I’m sorry,” he answered. “I’m at Jin’s, I’ll come home later.”

“Hoseok, you and Y/N just disappeared last night. We were able to play it off to the press as young love, but…” she trailed off, a hint of disappointment hanging on the last word.

Hoseok knew none of it was fair to him, but he felt guilty all the same. He really never liked to upset anyone, least of all his mother.

“I’m sorry, mom. I wasn’t thinking straight, it was a rough evening.”

There was a long pause in the conversation, and he started to pull away the phone to see if she had been upset enough to hang up on him.

“I’m sorry too, honey,” she sighed through the line. “Look, I’m sorry I put you through that. I did it for you, you know that right?”

Hoseok closed his eyes, trying to keep himself together. “Yeah.”

The phone was quiet for another minute, the words between them unspoken.

“I take it you’ve already worked out why we did this,” she said.

“I can assume, anyway. But I really wish you had sat us down and talked about it, given us a choice,” Hoseok said, decidedly not taking all the blame.

“Y/N is a bit of a loose cannon. We thought not giving her any wiggle room would make her decision easier.”

“Mom-”

“And I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at her over the years, Hoseok,” she interrupted him. “I know how you feel about her.” As if everyone didn’t, except you. Maybe you. He didn’t know anymore.

“Mom-” But she pressed on.

“You might not see it, but she looks at you the same way. I really thought…I still think she’ll come around.” Hoseok’s chest tightened. His mother was trying to be soothing, but it just stung him instead. He wasn’t ready to face last night yet. To face complicated years of him and you.

“She’s seeing someone else,” he breathed out. The silence again.

“I know,” his mother said and he fought hard against the urge to throw his phone over the railing. “I mean, her mother knows. She says it’s just a rebellious fling, not a serious relationship.”

Hoseok would curse himself for it later, would feel guilty at letting something so fucked up bring him joy. But he let himself feel it anyway, a sick happiness that you weren’t deeply involved with someone else, that you hadn’t already given your heart to another man.

“I don’t think anything would make me happier than to call Y/N my daughter,” she continued, “especially if it meant your happiness. She’s practically family already.”

“Is there really no other way? I’ve sat at those board meetings, those old-” he bit his tongue from the curse threatening to fly out. “They will hardly listen to me, let alone try newer, fresher business tactics. Mom, I can save this company without some backwards fairy tale forced marriage.”

“It’s not about business tactics, honey. Our reputation is in the toilet. Marrying Y/N, having her family and her company’s backing is what will save us. Unless you know of any other pristine-historied female heirs that you’re already in love with, then this is it.”

Hoseok wasn't going to win her over this easily, he conceded. He didn't know how long his mother and your mother had been planning this, but he knew he would need a solid plan to sway either of them. And he didn't quite have that yet.

“I’ll be home later, mom,” he sighed. Hoseok hung up and leaned against the balcony railing. No one would want this. No matter how much he loved you, all forcing you to marry him would do is push you away. And he so desperately just wanted you closer.

“Get in here and eat something,” Jin called out from the kitchen, suddenly becoming his surrogate mother, and Hoseok laughed to himself and stepped inside. The smell had made its way to Hoseok even outside and his stomach grumbled in anticipation.

That took care of the five calls. Now just Jimin. And you.

He swiped through his phone on the way to the table and realized it wasn't a missed call from you, but a text message.

Y/N: I'm sorry about last night. I was angry, but it was shitty of me to take it out on you of all people. Let's meet up at the usual and figure out what the fuck we're going to do.

Hoseok smiled at his phone, impressed that you had messaged him so soon. He laughed to himself, memories of your past floating to mind. You had definitely grown up and so had he. But some things always stayed the same.

~~Flashback~~

Hoseok took another sip of the beer most of the mingling crowd at this party were definitely not legally allowed to drink, grimacing at the metallic bitterness cheap beer often had, but thankful for the numbing after-effects. This was only his second cup, but he was already buzzing at a comfortable pace. Though he wasn’t usually such a lightweight, so maybe it was his third cup? Now he wasn’t sure.

He actually enjoyed house parties and drinking like this as much as the next twenty-year-old, but that wasn’t why he had agreed to come out with his friends tonight. They had all wandered off already to find tail for the evening, but Hoseok had a more specific goal. Not that he would turn down tail from that goal.

“Still no luck?” a voice asked, pulling his scanning eyes from the crowded room to focus on the chubby-faced, black-haired boy in front of him. “I swear I saw her earlier,” the boy said and Hoseok’s eyes went back to scanning. Jimin was a true wingman as usual, charming the crowd and working the room while trying to find out something, anything about you.

“Has anyone said anything about her?” Hoseok prodded and Jimin gave him a sad smile.

“Some of her friends are definitely here, but they’re hinting that she…well maybe she came here looking for a guy,” Jimin admitted, lowering his voice on the last part. “But I can’t tell. They’re pretty drunk already. Honestly, everyone is already pretty smashed.”

Hoseok’s eyes went back to the crowd. Despite the showing of cheap alcohol, the house was huge and worthy of the currently sizable crowd of students from several different high schools nearby. He recognized quite a few faces, had talked a bit of shit here and there to pass the evening. But all he really wanted was to find you.

“Can't you just text her,” Jimin prompted.

Hoseok grimaced. “I don't want to look…I don't want her to think…”

Jimin nodded and laid an understanding hand on his shoulder. “Love is tough, man.”

Hoseok sighed to himself and nodded a thanks to Jimin before taking off through the crowd, weaving his way past drunken table games, people swaying to the music, and a few pairs that were sure to find their way to upstairs bedrooms before long. It wasn’t rare that the two of you were at the same party. Even now that he’d graduated and you were eighteen and about to do the same, it was typical to find each other any time someone’s parent decided they needed to get out of the country. No, this was normal. What wasn’t normal was the text messages you and he had been exchanging for the past couple of weeks.

Different from the normal memes, jokes, gossip, and occasional heart-to-heart, they had been - if Hoseok could trust his instincts - flirty. You had been flirting with him, barely so at first, but each day your words got more suggestive and each line had gotten him more excited. It wasn’t a secret to his closest friends that he was mad about you, but it was another for you to return any signals other than friendship. He hadn’t been prepared for it, so suddenly out of nowhere. And Hoseok had to know tonight, he had to hear from you what you had been trying to say to him. What he hoped you had been trying to say.

“Hey, Hoseok!” he heard and spun towards a group of girls huddled around yet another keg of the cheap swill. Jiyun, one of your classmates, was waving him over.

“Looking for anyone in particular?” she asked with a smirk and a few of the other girls giggled to each other. “You know, Soojin thinks you’re really cute,” she laughed and the girl he assumed was Soojin shot him a wink.

“Cut the shit, Jiyun. Where is Y/N, is she here?” Hoseok wasn’t in the mood for games, he just wanted to talk to you in person.

“Geez, you need to drink more if you’re going to be that grouchy. She came with us so she’s here, I just don’t know where.” Jiyun took another drink from her cup, eyes roaming over the crowded room. “Haven’t seen her in thirty minutes. I figured she had already found you and jumped your-” an elbow sent Jiyun’s drink flying, landing a few inches to Hoseok’s side. “Fuck, Soojin!”

Luckily, it missed spilling on his shirt, but even if it hadn't it wouldn’t have mattered. Hoseok was already ignoring them, turning back towards the room, heading towards the staircase near the rear. You were looking for him, his heart suddenly drowning out the sounds of the room. He pulled out his phone, happy now to have a decent excuse to text you.

Hoseok: Jiyun siad yu were lokoiing for mee. Whre ae you?

He blinked at the screen of his phone, not sure how he managed to misspell that many words at once. He took a long look at his cup before draining the rest and setting it on a side table, certain he didn’t remember drinking enough cups to be that drunk. Maybe it only tasted cheap, he thought.

Y/N: Com find me!!!1!

And clearly, you’d had a few cups yourself.

Hoseok: Where?? I eed a hintt

Hoseok blinked again, then headed back to the keg near Jiyun, pouring more of the now respectable liquid into a fresh cup. If being drunk was making him hallucinate that he might find you, then so be it. And if you were really responding, he would need the cup of courage to get him through telling you how he felt anyway. He took a long chug, then felt his phone vibrate again.

Y/N: Upstairs

Even as Jiyun slurred something else at him, he was off, up the stairs faster than he should’ve been able to manage, the alcohol now filtering his vision. Where? Where upstairs? Hoseok hurried down the massive hallway, lighting dimmed and making it difficult to see, but he was on a mission now that he knew you were waiting, playing an interesting game of hide and seek with him. All he wanted was to pull you into his arms and-

“Psst.” Hoseok froze at the sound and heard a follow-up giggle. Your giggle.

“Psst, Hoseokie,” you laughed and he traced the sound to a hall closet that he had just stumbled past.

“Y/N? Y/N, what the fuck?” he squinted at the closet door, slightly cracked, a dim light peeking through.

“Shhh, get in here,” you laughed, much too loud to actually be secretive and he saw you peek out of the closet door, your arm reaching for his hand and tugging him inside.

It was a pretty large walk-in closet really, sparsely filled with a few hanging coats and pairs of shoes scattered about, a dim light bulb above illuminating just enough that he could see your face. Your face that was at this moment very close to his own, a smirk resting on your lips. And he could tell from the glaze in your eyes that you had probably had just about as much of the questionable drink as he had.

“You found me!” you snickered, throwing your arms around him and pulling him into a hug. “Took you long enough, feels like I’ve been waiting here forever,” you slurred, whining into his chest.

“You’re drunk,” he breathed into your hair, wrapping his own arms around you. Why did you always smell like everything he had ever longed for? Hoseok wracked his slow-moving brain, his last cup catching up with him, trying desperately to remember what he wanted to ask you. Why had he been looking for you again? Maybe it was just to hug you?

“You are too, so what?” you giggled, leaning your head back and pulling down on his shirt, and before he had time to respond, your lips were on his, sloppily begging for his attention and Hoseok forgot his last name and how to pronounce yours, every pent up hormone, every late night thought of you blazing across his skin and sending sparks to his lips. His arms were around your waist, pulling you closer and you squealed in excitement at the movement.

Your lips were ambrosia, and Hoseok finally felt whole, tucked away with you in this closet as you fed him as gods must feed, gifting him soft moans curled in swelling lips and searching fingers. This is why he had been looking for you, he remembered. To hold you and kiss you and-

“Hoseok…” you breathed into his mouth and his spine all but melted, countless nights of wanting to hear you say his name that way crashing in on him, brushing away his thoughts, leaving him only to focus on you and the warmth of your skin.

“Y/N,” he panted back before taking up your lips again, hands slipping down your back, fingers pressing into the cheeks of your ass, calling more muted moans from your mouth. His body’s response was already pressing into your thigh, but he didn’t care. He was lost in you, all of you.

He daringly swiped his tongue across your lips and you parted them, meeting his tongue eagerly. A hand made its way to your hair, fingers sliding into it and pulling you closer, pressing you as close as he could.

You pressed a soft bite into his lower lip and it shook him from his concentration on your mouth, forcing him to pull away. “What, baby girl?” he purred, his voice deep with longing, rough with intoxication, his fingers already under your shirt, rubbing soft strokes into your hips.

“Hoseok, you’re so hard,” you breathed, focusing on his eyes as your fingers danced across his belt buckle, brushing against the skin just above. “Have you been thinking about this?”

“Every day,” he confessed, no longer able to filter his thoughts. If he hadn’t been so drunk from the alcohol, he was definitely drunk from you now. You kissed him again as your fingers undid his belt quickly, unbuttoning his jeans, your hands finding his member with ease.

“Unngh..” he groaned into your mouth at the sensation of your fingers on him. Somewhere in the back of his head he thought something might be wrong. Maybe this really isn’t why he came here. Was it? It was so hard to focus now that your hands were stroking his length back and forth, the blood flow redirected to much more important places.

You pulled away and he could only watch as your tongue slid across your lips before you dropped to your knees, pushing down his jeans and boxer-briefs, then wrapping your fingers around him again, making long, slow strokes across his length. “God, Hoseok, I’ve been dreaming about this dick for weeks,” you moaned.

He couldn’t breathe, trying to remember your texts. Your hints had been subtle enough that he wasn’t sure, but definitely there. That was it. That’s why he had been looking-

All thoughts fell away from Hoseok as your lips slid across the head of his cock, the wet heat of your mouth sending his heart into his throat. He moaned at the contact, voice dark and heavy, hands flying to your head.

“Fuck, Y/N…fuck…” Everything was moving so fast, his head was spinning. Or maybe that was what your lips did to him, your tongue caressing his length in ways he had thought it never would.

‘Does it feel good, Hoseok?” You replaced your lips again with your hands, stroking him as you looked up at his face. “Do you want me to keep going, hm?” And the sight of you there, on your knees in front of him doing what you were doing convinced him that he had to be dreaming.

“Fuck yes, don’t stop,” he pleaded, and you smiled and took him in again, sliding your lips down to the base of his length and Hoseok’s vision blurred as he felt the pressure, your gentle suckling of his manhood. He reached out an arm blindly in his ecstasy, accidentally knocking a coat from a hanger, pressing his palm into the wall of the closet.

And you didn’t let up, tongue exploring every crevice, the bobbing of your head punctuated by his most likely too loud moaning. But he didn’t care. Nothing else could matter in this moment with your mouth working on him so diligently, racing him towards losing his mind.

A throaty growl ripped through his chest, eyes rolling back, and he was spent, hips jerking as he spilled into your mouth, whimpers as you sucked him dry, your tongue still caressing his increasingly sensitive head until he was nudging you away, unable to take the contact anymore.

“Y/N…” he breathed softly and you were on your feet again, licking your lips and pulling on his t-shirt again.

“Don’t tell me you’re done already,” you said in a quiet voice, not quite sounding as drunk as before. He studied your eyes, wondering if you had been just as in need of liquid courage too. His head was very slowly clearing and memories were coming back to him, all he had wanted to say to you.

“Y/N, I-…” You cut off his words with another kiss and Hoseok conceded that talking could wait. His hands slipped under your shirt, searching for more, more of this, all of this. He leaned away to lift the fabric up over your head and went back to kissing you, struggling with the clasps of your bra. You brushed his hands away, unfastening it for him and he slid it from your arms, face slipping from yours to your breasts.

“Ahh, Hoseok, yes, yes….” you keened as his tongue lapped at your nipples, the fingers of one hand squeezing alongside his mouth, as the other rested on your thigh. He felt you tense, squeezing your thighs together as your moaning mounted.

“Hoseok,” you purred, and he definitely felt his dick twitching back to life whenever the word passed your lips, when you sounded so desperate and needy like this. “Your fingers, I want your…”

Hoseok pulled his attention from your breasts, pressing a hungry kiss to your lips as he slid a hand into your shorts, immediately met by your wetness. You moaned as his finger met your lower lips, leaning your head back as he slid a finger across your clit.

It was intoxicating, watching you like this, after imagining it so many times, more times than he wanted to admit. His fingers slid further and he slipped one inside easily, then another and watched your maddening reactions, your body as it rolled into his hand in response.

“Y/N…is this alright? God, you feel so tight.” Hoseok’s fingers swirled inside your warm depths, and he savored every desperate moan you gave him, wanting to give you everything, anything you wanted if you kept moaning his name that way.

His fingers curled into you and you moaned against him. You were so wet, horribly wet, and he was already hard again, wanting nothing more than to feel his cock surrounded by your wetness.

“I want you, now, baby,” you whined and he groaned, the need for you overriding all else. Hoseok roughly turned your body around and pushed you forward into the wall of the closet, yet another coat falling to the floor as he caressed your ass through your shorts, fingers squeezing your inner thighs. He tugged them down over your ass, dragging your panties along with them, pausing for a moment to look at your sticky wetness and fighting the urge to plunge his face between your legs instead.

“Please, Hoseok,” you whined, lifting your ass, and the sound of your voice was hypnotic, bringing him back to his true goal. He straightened up and placed his hands on your hips, hand around his erection as he guided himself towards you.

The closet door swung open and Hoseok froze. Two girls he had never seen before looked on in surprise, a perfect view of his dick poised over your ass. One of the girls laughed a nervous giggle and the other had the sense to close the door. He could hear more giggling and then retreating footsteps down the hall. And Hoseok couldn’t be sure, but it looked like they had similar plans as the two of you as one of them had definitely been missing a shirt.

“Shit!” you said standing up and nudging him back, ass pressing against his hardon. “Did they see me? Did they see my face?”

“I…I don’t think so,” he stumbled, still a little in shock, but you were already pulling your shorts back up.

“Let’s get out of here, ok?” you said and Hoseok reacted slowly, still lost in the scent of sweat and sticky liquids that filled the closet. You turned to look at him and leaned up, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “Come on, we gotta go. The party is probably gonna get busted soon and I think neither of us wants to get caught drinking here,” you said, and he nodded, tugging up his jeans and repositioning his still hard member, a new appreciation for the word cockblock already forming in his mind.

When you both were finally dressed and made it back downstairs, the crowd had thinned out a bit, some people already passed out in various corners of the room. Hoseok spotted a certain black-haired, chubby-cheeked boy slumped near one of the kegs.

“Jimin!”

“Ahh,” Jimin looked up the pair of you with sleepy eyes and smiled. “You found her,” he said before his eyes closed again. “I’m pretty sure they spiked the kegs with something,” he slurred, as his head lolled to the side. Hoseok laughed and hoisted him up. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” The three of you headed out the front door, Jimin’s arm slung across Hoseok’s shoulder as he supported his friend to the sidewalk. Countless cars were lining the street, but Hoseok was pretty sure he’d better call a cab or start walking.

You looked at him questioningly, then down and he followed your gaze, blinking as he realized he was holding your hand. But he didn’t let go and you only smiled. What was tonight, he wondered? Had he been reading your signals right after all, or were you nothing but hormones and liquor?

“I’ll call a cab,” he offered, but you shook your head. “I live close enough to walk. But Jimin lives across town, doesn’t he? Take care of him, I’ll be fine.” Hoseok studied your face, not sure how to put into words whatever it was he was feeling right now. He wasn’t even sure how he felt, everything had been such a blur.

“I’ll call you,” you smiled, and after all you had done that night, all you had been about to do, he felt a squeezing in his chest as he stared at you, the same bull-headed, kind-to-a-fault girl he had fallen in love with the day you ripped your dress to get him a ripe persimmon. The same girl he had fallen in love with over and over again throughout the years. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on your forehead. And wordlessly, you squeezed his hand before heading off in the direction of your house.

As he watched you walk away, Hoseok couldn’t quiet his heart. He couldn’t wait for your call, couldn’t wait to continue what you’d started, couldn’t wait to hold you and call you his and finally tell you those three little words.

Until he heard nothing. He waited for two weeks after that party, and there was nothing, no texts, no calls, no messages through friends. His pride was in pieces.

Especially when he showed up at your school for some answers and found you standing near the entrance with another guy, looking a little too comfortable. Hoseok hadn't considered himself the jealous type, but it was the angriest he had ever been. He looked past you, at your friends talking close by.

And in his blind rage Hoseok made a decision he didn’t know how badly he would regret later. He decided maybe Soojin was really pretty after all.

“It’s not fair for someone to look that good after spending the night getting smashed,” you called to a dark-haired figure that you very much preferred in casual clothing. Complementing the already perfect proportions of his body, he wore a black t-shirt, ripped, fitted jeans that hugged his ass just right, and a black beanie that made his ears curve down in that way that had your heart doing flips already. Hoseok flashed you a wide smile and you sighed to yourself, thinking for just a moment that it wouldn’t be bad at all to wake up next to that face every morning for the rest of your life.

“How did you know I went out?” he questioned, and dipped his head slightly, confirming the guilt.

“Word gets around,” you answered. When you finally reached him, he slid an arm around your waist and pulled you into a hug, smelling like citrus and woods and taunting your senses in every way. “Actually, a friend who heard the news last night considered herself warning me that you were out with Jin getting plastered. Maybe not the best press after an engagement party,” you smiled up at him, smug that you at least kept your escapades private. Well, for the most part.

The park was strangely quiet for mid-morning on a Sunday, only a few runners and bikers sprinkled about the trail. Hoseok turned with his arm still around you and began guiding you down the path, between picturesque patches of trees and wildflowers. You had both met up at this park so many times, wandered this trail at all hours of the day and night, and listened to each other’s problems. You sort of thought of it as belonging to you both, the trees holding onto your secrets.

You leaned into him, leaned into the comfort of being with him as you walked. To any stranger, you probably looked like any other happy couple. But you had always just been family friends. Messy, complicated, and over every boundary, but only ever friends.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you apologized again. You really had been, after waking up and fully understanding what an ass you’d been to him, as if any of it was his fault.

“It’s alright, Y/N, really. If I wasn’t used to your temper, I’d have never made it as your friend.”

You could never figure out why hearing the word out loud hurt so much. You and Yoongi weren’t in a relationship, true, but what you had still made you happy. But with Hoseok, everything was always confusing. How could you want to be more and less with someone at the same time?

“To be honest, I was pretty angry too. I understand what our parents are doing, but…” he trailed off.

“My mom has been lighting up my phone all morning. Last night I think she was angry, but at this point I’m sure she thinks she can just talk me down,” you laughed. Since you hadn’t bothered going home, instead borrowing an oversized t-shirt and drawstring shorts from Yoongi, and luckily finding a pair of flip flops you’d left at his house, you hadn’t had to face your mother yet. And you were tempted to leave it that way for a few days.

“I left just after you did,” Hoseok said, “but I gather the press showed up at some point. My mom was irritated, so I imagine your mother was more than livid that neither of us had stuck around.”

You kept on quietly, teeth already grazing your lip as you both wandered down the trail.

“So…do we have any kind of plan, Hoseok? Are we really just going to go through with it? Of course I want to help with your company, but this is…” You fretted at the thought, not comfortable with your life being planned out that way.

“You don’t have to sound so miserable about it,” he laughed. His voice was dark and you looked up at his face, reaching up to brush his fringe from his eyes.

“Hoseok, I’m not saying it to hurt your feelings. I…I’m not totally…” And the next words were out before you could fully process your thoughts. “I could marry you.” Fuck. You had not meant to say that.

Hoseok stopped walking, peering down at you curiously as if he was trying to read your mind. “…But?”

“This isn’t about you and me. Our world is…this is about…” your brain felt fried. You hadn’t expected this conversation to actually lean towards entertaining this idea. Hoseok wasn’t seriously considering marrying you, was he? You didn’t know if you were angry that he was considering it to save his company, or touched that he liked you enough to consider spending the rest of his life with you.

He motioned towards a bench, guiding you to it and you sat down next to him, searching his face for a clue of what he was thinking.

“Y/N, I think we should both be able to marry who we love.” You nodded in agreement and he continued. “Forget about all the business stuff and the press and our parents. We’ve been friends our whole lives. Could we love each other?” He wouldn’t meet your eyes as he spoke the last part and you swallowed hard. “I thought about it all morning. Of course, about what it would do for Jung Corp, I have to consider my family’s business. But more about us.” Hoseok finally met your eyes, but your focus had shifted to his ears, which were curiously tinged a deep red.

“I’m not sure what you’re saying, Hoseok. Are you asking me to consider marrying you?”

“I’m saying that we have four months to figure this out. Let's put on a good show for our parents while we put our heads together to figure out what we want to do. I’m saying we’ve been tangled in each other’s lives long enough, maybe we owe it to ourselves to at least find out if…”

“If…?” you swallowed again.

“I-If something could work out. Between us.”

Your hands were freezing, throat now dry and tight. What was he saying? Why was he saying it now, now that you had finally given up on him? It was almost like a cruel joke. You looked away from him. Or had mostly given up on him, you thought.

“If you’re totally against it, we’ll still keep our parents happy and off our backs until we find another way,” he tried to rationalize. “This is weird for me too, but my gut says this is the right way to do it.” His hand reached for your own, drawing your attention back to his face. His stupid handsome face, with that stupid handsome smile, and stupid chestnut-brown eyes that you had wanted to get lost in for a huge portion of your life.

“Ok,” you breathed.

He blinked. Then again. Then squeezed your hand and you would swear his smile broadened. “Really? You really want to?”

You nodded. “You’re right, Hoseok. We do owe it to ourselves.” You shoved your shoulder against his. “Why are you always right? It’s so irritating.”

He laughed and stood from the bench, pulling you up with him. “Why don’t we go home? The quicker we can get our parents off our asses, the easier it’ll be to work together. And maybe tomorrow I can…take you on a proper date. We can just take it one step at a time, Y/N.”

Not giving you a chance to respond, he pulled you back against his body, wrapping an arm around your waist just like before, but something was different now. He was warmer, somehow, more comfortable in a way you couldn’t describe. You shook your head, trying to shake off the feelings you had stamped down ages ago. How could it be that easy for him to get you upside down again?

He spoke again as you headed back to the park’s entrance. “Are…are you seeing someone? Last night you mentioned…” You stiffened, Yoongi pushed far from your mind in the midst of everything else. Yoongi, whose sharp bites you could still feel on your neck from less than twelve hours ago.

“Um,” you stuttered. “K-kind of. I mean we’re not like a couple, but…” you floundered. Normally, you weren't embarrassed to talk about your sex life, sometimes you were even a little proud. But with Hoseok, especially now, it felt a little wrong.

“We’re just fuckbuddies,” you blurted out. Hoseok nodded.

“I know I don't have the right to ask for any kind of monogamy, but…”

“You're right, you don't,” you said irritably and it was his turn to tense. It was happening too fast, these decisions that felt life-changing in an instant. And if you were being honest with yourself, you couldn’t fuck someone for six months and not have any kind of feelings. However steeped in lust they were, some part of you cared about Yoongi. And some part of him cared about you. Maybe, you thought.

“Hoseokie,” you invoked the nickname that always got him to soften towards you. “Let’s just go on this first date. If we decide we don’t hate the idea of having a life together after that, I’ll…I’ll cut things off with him.”

Hoseok nodded to himself, but you could still tell he was hesitant.

“One step at a time, you said. Four months, you said,” you prodded him and he smiled and nodded, hugging you closer to his side.

“I did,” he agreed. “Ok. One step at a time.”

Yoongi turned off the engine and checked his Rolex. It was just after one-thirty in the morning and he was a little surprised that he hadn't heard from you by now. Although, after last night you might have been busy playing pretend with your family and soon-to-be husband. He smirked to himself as he climbed out of his car. Or you might have still been too sore thanks to him.

He checked his phone one last time before keying in the code and pulling open Sapphire’s rear entrance, offering a tight-eyed glance to the security guard on duty as he headed inside. Slow reaction time, he noted for Namjoon.

Of course, he didn't really care that you hadn't yet sent him a needy text. No, no, Min Yoongi would never invest enough feelings into a woman to care, certainly not a woman who wasn't already a part of his family, and most certainly not an entitled, spoiled brat like you. No matter how much your smell drove him crazy, no matter how much he enjoyed seeing you smile when he spoiled you, and no matter how he had gotten used to holding you most nights as he fell asleep. He didn't care about you in the slightest. Just your body.

A few dancers in their birthday suits hurried past him as he made his way through the corridor, throwing him cautious smiles on their way to the dressing room. He was pretty sure he had fucked the one on the left at some point, but it had been too long to tell. That fact irritated him and he ran a hand over his face. He didn't like forgetting people’s faces.

It had been six months ago that he met you, and at least four months since he’d slept with anyone else besides you. Not because he valued some type of monogamy, shit no. He just hadn't had a taste for anyone else, that was all. You took care of his needs and wants like no one else had, and he’d keep you around for as long as you did.

Up a set of stairs and past the VIP room he ran into another, much more alert guard, this one already eyeing him as he came around the corner.

“Boss,” the man nodded in respect and Yoongi nodded back and headed inside the club’s main office. Namjoon turned from the window overlooking the packed club as he walked in, a wide grin overtaking his face.

“Ah, look who’s rolling in here smelling like rich pussy,” Namjoon laughed.

“Shut the fuck up,” Yoongi returned a chuckle, crossing his arms.

“Well that's where you've been isn't it? My girls aren't good enough anymore. You need the high class shit now.”

Yoongi rubbed his face again and looked around the office. It looked spotless, most certainly recently cleaned, the floors recently waxed. If he could trust anyone to take care of things here, it was Namjoon.

“Let's talk business. You called me here for a decision, what am I deciding?”

“Chun, bring him in,” Namjoon called out and, moments later, through the office’s side door that led to the cellar, one of the guards entered, dragging with him someone that had already clearly been beaten within an inch of his life. The man wore only his underwear, bruises blooming up and down his body, dried bits of blood already caked to his torso. His head was already covered with one of Namjoon’s favorite black bags and Yoongi grimaced. He hated the damn things, preferring to at least see a man’s eyes when he made decisions about his life.

A younger man with thick, brown hair that looked vaguely familiar to Yoongi walked out after the pair, his mouth set in a hard line. He was dressed in a bartender’s uniform and Yoongi recognized the pensive look on his face. A new recruit that Namjoon was trying to season. He liked to bring them to his little power shows. Namjoon, ever the peacock.

Namjoon licked his lips and knelt next to the man. “Mr. Heung here was caught pimping out two of my girls and keeping all the profits for himself.”

Heung was already shaking his head, facing the wrong direction since he was still unable to see. “N-no, boss, no, you you you got it wrong, I-” Namjoon reared back and landed a punch across his jaw. Yoongi could hear the blood splatter inside the bag before it dribbled down and out onto his neck.

“The girls already confessed to me, Heung. Your johns are already dead. And unless you cough up the profit, you’re going to die too.”

Yoongi sighed in irritation. “This is what you brought me here for? Kill him and raid his house and accounts. I’ve got shit to do. You can make these kind of decisions yourself,” Yoongi said, uncrossing his arms impatiently. “Call me when we’ve got a cop snooping around or stock comes up short.”

Namjoon studied him for a moment, then put his attention back onto his captive. Yoongi knew what his first-in-command wanted, for him to get excited about the idea of putting down a dog, but Yoongi had long since lost his bloodlust. He left those things to Kim and the others now, much preferring to run the business side of things. Well, aside from special exceptions.

Namjoon reached into the jacket of his suit, pulling out a pistol and a suppressor after, expertly attaching the pieces. But instead of bringing it to Heung’s head as Yoongi expected, he reached out the weapon towards the wide-eyed, brown-haired man from earlier.

“Kill him, Tae.”

Yoongi watched Taehyung’s eyes grow wider still, face paling at the request.

“That’s an order. Kill him.” Namjoon’s eyes were glowing as he shook the gun handle towards him. Heung’s whimpers were the only background noise as the men exchanged tense looks.

“I…I can’t..I..” Taehyung stumbled across the words, looking like he was going to start convulsing soon.

Namjoon nodded at Chun, who grabbed Taehyung and dragged him forward to stand behind Heung’s shivering body. And though Taehyung didn’t struggle, Yoongi wasn’t sure this would end very well. He had seen enough newbies to know that Taehyung belonged downstairs, serving drinks and probably gathering intel, not murdering people in the back office.

But Namjoon had never liked order or predictability. He liked to test the limits of his recruits, which sometimes ended well and sometimes not so much.

Namjoon shoved the gun into Taehyung’s hands, guiding it to the back of the man’s head. “Go on, Tae. Prove your loyalty to our family. Shoot. Him.”

Taehyung’s hands were shaking violently, tears collected in his eyes. When he didn’t make a move Namjoon sighed and shoved him aside before aiming and putting a quiet bullet right through the back of Mr. Heung’s head.

The man’s body stopped shaking immediately, toppling over instead, blood from the deadly wound now oozing from the holes in the back and front of the bag.

“Chun, go get me a clean up crew.”

Taehyung had backed himself up into the corner and was now retching onto the floor as the blood pooled around Heung’s body. Yoongi looked down at it and then down at his shirt, noticing that some of the blood had splattered onto him, dribbles on his forearm and clothes.

“God damn it, Kim.”

Namjoon noticed the stains and barked a laugh before turning quickly and aiming his firearm at Taehyung.

“I don't appreciate it when my men don't follow orders, Tae. I should end your miserable life right here if you’re going to be useless.”

“Namjoon, settle down,” Yoongi interrupted. “The kid is obviously not meant to be one of your grunts. Let him go back to mixing margaritas and watching the floor.”

Taehyung swiped a forearm across his mouth, unable to look in the direction of the body. Namjoon shrugged and pulled apart his gun, setting it on his desk. “Ahh, you're no fun anymore, Yoongi. This stuff used to get your blood pumping. I think all that rich pussy has made you soft.”

“You're remembering it wrong. You always stick to the bloody things, Kim. I always stick to making us filthy rich.” He waved a beckoning hand to Taehyung, calling him over. Yoongi finally remembered where he had seen that face before, or at least a similar, older version.

“You think about what you've seen here today, kid. This is what happens if you're not loyal to us. But I don't think you'll end up like this. You'll be good to the family, won't you?”

Taehyung nodded fervently and Yoongi affectionately ruffled his hair. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick roll of bills, peeling off a few and pressing them into Taehyung’s hands.

“Get back to work,” Yoongi ordered calmly and Taehyung shot a nervous glance at Namjoon before he hurried out of the room.

“You're going soft, Yoongi, I’m telling you.”

“We killed his father, Namjoon, his only blood relative. If you want his loyalty you should probably be more gentle with him and use him where he’ll be the most help. With that face, he could probably sweet talk the gun off a cop.”

Namjoon waved a dismissive hand at him and went back to his one-way window, looking over the club floor.

“I'm out of here,” Yoongi said, heading for the door. “Call me when you've got something interesting. Don't forget, we have a shipment coming Tuesday and I expect you and your bloodthirsty crew ready for it.”

It wasn't until he was already home, stepping out of the shower and free of blood splatter that your face finally lit up his phone.

“It’s late, princess,” he answered. He was still stood in the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and now he thought he might just stay undressed.

“I know, but I couldn't stop thinking about you,” your needy voice came across the line.

“Where are you? I'll come pick you up,” Yoongi offered, wondering how well he could drive in a towel.

“I'm already on my way to your place.”

“Hm,” he grunted, studying his face in the mirror. “What are you wearing?”

“Ahh…you'll see when I get there.”

“Give me a hint, princess. I want to know what I'll be ripping off in a few minutes and how expensive it’ll be to replace it.” All he heard was your giggling before you hung up, pulling an irritated growl from his lips. You were already begging for punishment and he hadn’t even seen you yet.

The warm feeling in his chest gave Yoongi pause. What was it about you that got him so excited, that really did get his blood pumping? He couldn't place the feeling, but he knew he didn't want it to end. Meticulous as always, he made a note to himself in his phone to find out who your husband to be was. If he was a pliable man, Yoongi might be able to bring him into the fold and find a use for his wealth and connections.

And just in case he wasn't, Yoongi added him to his very short list of people to be dealt with. There was actually only one other name on that list right now, but Yoongi wasn’t making it a priority, since he was only the clueless son of the son of a bitch that had wiped out half his family less than a year ago. He might even let the poor bastard live after he was finished destroying his company. Yoongi opened the note on his phone.

To Be Dealt With:

— Jung Hoseok

— Y/N’s fiance (if uncooperative)

His phone chimed again just as he finished typing, a smile tugging at his lips when he saw your name.

You could remember sneaking off with an eight year old Hoseok while your parents got distracted with parties and business talk, leaving you both free to play hide and seek in the persimmon trees behind their house. He was adventurous then, even if he always screamed louder than you at anything slightly scary. You even remembered that time you’d argued with him over which tree was the most difficult to climb, and proved him wrong when you broke your arm falling out of your top choice.

You smiled to yourself at the memory. Hoseok had cried and cried next to you that day until you slapped him with your good hand and told him you weren’t dying and he should probably go get help.

“You’re absolutely glowing my dear. Congratulations!” another voice disturbed your happy memories of this place, dragging you straight back into the present where things weren’t quite as smile-worthy.

Now, standing around this crowded room filled with stuffy, rich men and women dressed up like so much expensive artwork, you wished you could be that kid again. You wished Hoseok would grab your arm and pull you out of this room and into the garden to play a round of tag or hide-and-seek. Because any childish venture would be more fun than this. Than your parents asking you…no, not asking you…telling you that you and he would be married in four month’s time. A mid-August wedding, your mother had informed you.

Of course, a lot had changed since you were six and Hoseok was eight. You and he had lost touch during high school since you had to attend an all-girls school and were both too busy preparing for exams anyway. You had both gone to top colleges abroad, had trained in business, and prepared for a future to be thrust upon you by your parents in the name of their admittedly very successful companies. And you could guess by looking at Hoseok in his precisely tailored suit, impossibly perfect hair, and the polite smile that he seemed to hold so naturally that he had stuck to the plan quite well. Though you knew from experience that he wasn't always a golden child.

Unfortunately for your parents, you hadn’t quite developed into the prim and proper lady they’d tried so hard to train you up to be. Even more unfortunately for them, you were an only child, and as such, their only choice. Your mother often liked to point out your “particularly strong rebellious streak”, but in truth she called anything you did not prescribed by her rebellious.

You offered the woman a smile and a quiet "Thank you", barely audible above the din of the room. While you truly wanted to shout out loud that none of it was real, it wasn't this woman's or any guests fault that your parents had done this. You and Hoseok had been truly blindsided by the news. Yet neither of you protested. You, because it was more important to you to find out exactly what your parents were planning since of course they hadn't felt it necessary to explain themselves. And you could only assume Hoseok wanted the same.

"He's really lucked out with this one, hasn't he? Gorgeous and loaded."

"Have you heard, what they've been saying about Jung Corp?"

"Hoseok is sooooo hot. Where can I get set up with a man like that?"

Your ears pricked up at the chatter around you. The attention was growing tiresome already and it had scarcely been fifteen minutes. Good-looking, rich people getting married was nothing out of the ordinary. Though they usually were graced with some measure of courtship.

Distracted again by your thoughts, you resumed chewing on your lip, standing just behind that puppeteer of a woman while she spoke to yet another guest offering their congratulations - to her of course, not you - wishing you were near your father instead, not that you could spot him anywhere in the people milling about. At least he would be trying to cheer you up and console you, reason with you that this was in your best interest, and make false promises that you would be happy.

But your mother had taken up the task of parading you around instead, or more likely to make sure you didn’t throw a fit or sneak away at any moment. You knew this was all your mother’s idea, this “match made in heaven” bullshit. Mrs. Jung was her college-friend and for all intents and purposes, her best friend. And this marriage would somehow, though you weren’t fully sure how yet, help out all parties involved. Except maybe you.

Your eyes trailed across the room, spotting Hoseok who, despite the reason for the evening leaving a sour taste in your mouth, still left you with a smile. He had been your friend since childhood, and though you had fallen in and out of touch over the years, you couldn’t deny the happy memories you had with him and his family and the friendship that was still there.

And right now you wouldn’t lie to yourself. He looked good. Really good. He had come a long way from that goofy kid you used to lie on the grass and guess shapes in the clouds with, the easily frightened boy who would never let you explore the grove of trees behind their house after dusk without holding his hand. Now, as he fidgeted with his cufflink and clenched his quite well-defined jawline, you could see him as a man. And that might’ve been enough six months ago. It definitely would’ve been enough a year ago. But now…

His eyes met yours briefly, snapping you out of your trance. You raised your eyebrows at his attention and he gave you a sympathetic smile before his mother placed her hand on his forearm and pulled his attention, forcing him to return to his conversation. It had been really unfair of your parents to spring this on you both just before a party announcing the engagement. But you knew your mother. And to her credit she knew you. She knew you wouldn’t just marry someone if she told you to. But you just might heel to her wishes if it meant public embarrassment for yourself and your father’s company.

She also knew it might be the only way to get you to marry someone respectable, someone she would be proud to call her son-in-law in public, someone who might be able to reign you in and help you remember some of that decorum she’d been drilling into your head for years. Someone like Jung Hoseok.

And most importantly, someone who was definitely, certainly, absolutely not Min Yoongi. And Hoseok was no Min Yoongi.

“Y/N,” a voice pierced through you again, disturbing your thoughts and tensing your shoulders in a way only she could.

“Yes, mother?”

“Mrs. Kang asked how long you and Hoseokie have been dating,” she said in a sweet voice, turning her head towards you so that only you could see her face. You knew that look. Your mother was all of five feet tall and a hundred pounds soaking wet. But you had seen even the cockiest man heel beneath that gaze.

“Oh, it feels like it’s been our whole lives really. We’ve known each other since we were young and after I returned from college we just naturally reconnected.” You followed up with a hopefully convincing smile and it seemed to satisfy Mrs. Kang, who giggled and started talking about her own daughter’s unsuccessful love life. As the conversation between her and your mother drug on, you found yourself spacing out again, the steady spill of people into the room blurring as your thoughts drifted inward again.

How long would you have to keep up these lies? Would you really be forced to go through with something so ridiculous? Didn’t you have rights? You owed everything to your parents, you wouldn't deny them that. You lived in a beautiful house, never wanted for any luxury, spent as you liked, and “worked” for your father in pretty much title only. But was this loss of freedom the price for the designer labels and fast cars?

You could feel your anger building, a slow burn beneath your initial shock. You had known that one day your parents would be ready for you to settle down and run the company with a capable husband. That was simply the way things were done and you had tried to accept it. And you thought by then surely you would have found someone they would approve of.

But sometimes when you tried to act responsibly, a little devil on your shoulder seemed to know just what to say to have you ignoring all measures of “the-right-thing-to-do”. You had no excuses really. Most of the time it was just you forgetting to hide your heart, and sometimes you didn’t even feel bad about it.

A glint caught your eyes and you turned your head to the crowd, searching out the source. Someone was adjusting their watch. A Hoseok someone. He shook his wrist casually and you looked up to him trying to catch your eyes. The party had definitely grown thicker and somehow he had managed to get away from his mother. His lips pressed together in a line and he flicked his eyes across the room, towards the door to the kitchen. Or was it the back hallway? Before your memory could catch up, he was making a bee-line to and through that door, giving you the impression that you had better hurry up and follow.

“Excuse me for a moment, mother. It was wonderful to see you again, Mrs. Kang, I’m so happy you could make it.”

Mrs. Kang gushed a response as you moved to walk away when you felt your mother’s hand on your arm, a gentle touch.

“Not too long, sweetheart? There are so many guests here celebrating this news.”

“Yes, mother,” you sang, not bothering to turn to her before you continued weaving your way through the crowded room. You bowed your head and smiled to those offering you congratulations on your way, continuously reminding yourself how much you loved your parents. You definitely, definitely loved them. Maybe.

Heading through the door, you finally remembered that it led to the rear of the house, a large sitting room with glass doors on the opposite side that led to the back patio. You could just barely see Hoseok standing outside, the glare on the glass doors from the lights inside making it too bright to see clearly. That was unmistakably on purpose and you were more than grateful for it.

He turned to face you as you closed the doors behind you, leaning back against the railings, his face lit just enough by the fading sunlight overhead, splashes of orange and red shading his dark hair.

“Well,” he started. His eyebrows knitted together, eyes following you as you made your way across the patio towards him.

“Well,” was all you could offer, as you leaned yourself over the railing. How many summers had you spent here, balancing and falling off of these lacquered beams? Would the rest of your summers really be spent here as well?

Hoseok waved a hand out, gesturing over the yard in front of you. “Everything the light touches will soon be yours,” he said in a bellowing voice, pulling a snort of a laugh from you. He smiled at your amusement and you felt your heart nudge you with one strong beat. Why could his smile still do that? You shook off the feeling, shoving it down deep.

“Did you have any idea?” His fingers flew up and traced along the back of his head and into his hair, a bad habit you had never noticed before. Was he nervous or…? A dangerous tell for a business man.

“Not a clue,” you waved a dismissive hand at the thought. "I would’ve warned you. They just told me I was coming here for a party." You stood up and did a little spin for him. “I mean, with as dolled up as my mother made me get I thought maybe your parents would be announcing your engagement to someone.” You could feel the anger again, bubbling now at the back of your throat, tingeing your words slightly bitter. “Just not to me.”

He chuckled darkly, leaning back onto the railing, his arm brushing yours and making your heart do that thing again. You promptly scolded yourself. That was the past.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice a little tight. He really was nervous. “You definitely clean up nice.”

You gave a half-hearted laugh, a little embarrassed at the compliment. Years ago you would’ve treasured something like that coming from him. But you were young and silly then, and things were different now. You were different now.

“You too," you offered and certainly meant it. "That suit fits so perfectly, it looks like it was sewn on.”

He stood upright and tugged on the lapels of his suit jacket, flashing you an arrogant smile and making a little strut in place, sending you into giggles.

"You look like a damn peacock,” you laughed. He stopped his dance and that smile was back, his dimples taunting you as he laughed.

“I’m glad I can make you laugh in the middle of all this,” he said with a sense of satisfaction. “You looked so blank standing there with your mother.”

You let out a sigh and leaned forward against the railing again, staring out over the shadows of the yard, trees looming towards you now as the last slivers of sunlight faded. You felt his jacketed arm pressed against yours again. Somehow it was comforting and inflaming at the same time.

“Because my mother has always thought she can decide my future however she likes.” You turned your head to face him and found him closer than you'd realized, the crisp scent of his cologne brushing against your senses. "You know how tiring I find following the constant lead,” you managed.

A quiet "Mmm" and a small nod was all he offered as he looked out over the backyard.

“So what is this really about, Hoseok? Why did our parents go to such trouble to make sure we couldn’t get out of marrying? Most parents, normal parents, would just set up some blind dates. I know I've led a spoiled life, but taking this decision from me is quite a price."

Hoseok bit his lip. “I can guarantee this is about business.”

“What a shocker,” you said rolling your eyes. “When isn’t it?”

“Ever since dad and grandfather passed away, the business has taken quite a few hits. I’m doing what I can with the board, but I can admit I’m inexperienced. With all the bad press and rumors, we’re basically bleeding in shark-infested waters.”

“So my mother comes to the rescue. If we marry, you’ll have our company’s assets and connections and good reputation at your disposal." You crossed your arms. “Smart, mom. Very smart.” You leaned up and crossed your arms, chewing on your own lip again. “My mom really does love your mom.”

“I know this is as much of a shock to you as it is to me. But your parents are right, it would save Jung Group," he admitted, leaning up as well and turning to face you.

“Surely they can accomplish a merger without selling off their own daughter.” You let out an exasperated sigh and felt Hoseok’s hand on your shoulder. Your breath caught in your throat as he moved closer to you, his eyes focused above your face while his free hand went to your hair. It came away just as quickly as he flicked a finger, a lint or something like it falling away.

It was almost endearing, and it struck you how close he must feel to you to do that. His fingers stayed on your shoulder, leaving traces of heat on your bare skin, but he continued speaking as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, as if his lips weren't dangerously close to your face, making more heat spread through your skin. You cursed internally, willing away the old feelings that kept trying to bubble up in your chest. You were starting to remember why you hadn't seen him in so long.

“You’re like a sign of good faith to the public. If they’re willing to let their daughter marry me, then I must be trustworthy and a smart business man. The former of which people are heavily doubting about my dead relatives right now.”

You could hear the pain in his voice every time he mentioned it, how torn up he was about losing them. Hoseok had been so close with his father and grandfather, learning everything he could about business under their training. And unlike you, he soaked it up. He idolized his grandfather, a self-made man who had built a multi-million dollar business from the ground up. And his father was his hero. Their death had been tragic and sudden, a horrific boating accident.

You’d never forget Hoseok’s face at the funeral. You’d never seen him so devoid of happiness, Hoseok who would do almost anything to make you smile. You shook the memory away. It had been over six months since then and though you knew he was still hurting, he seemed like he was doing better.

“I hadn’t heard your company was suffering so badly,” you mumbled, stepping away from his hand. In your discomfort, you turned your attention to smoothing out the skirt of your dress. You didn't notice the way he chewed his cheek at the loss of contact.

"Since I haven't really heard from you much lately, I haven't had a chance to tell you about it," he muttered. He was right. Lately, you had been opting for an occasional text, but not the dinner and drinks or parties you used to. In your defense, you had been really, really distracted lately.

And in his defense he had lost two of his closest family members and probably could've used your friendship.

You rebuked the guilty feelings, embracing instead the anger that had been slowly building in you for the past half hour, urging you to say words you knew you shouldn’t, especially now. You pressed your lips together in an attempt to hold yourself back.

“Y/N…” he said, his tone almost pleading, watching the emotions change on your face.

“Why is it my problem?” Shit.

You felt the tension immediately. You looked up into his face, not sure what to expect. His head was tilted downward, his hair casting a darker shadow on his eyes, making them impossible to read. The sun was almost down fully now and the lack of light and color made the atmosphere feel so much worse.

“It’s not.” His voice was tinged cold now and you felt a pang of regret, followed by a surge of pride. “It’s not your problem,” he continued, and you could tell he had switched to his professional voice. “I’m just explaining why this marriage would help.”

“This isn’t the fucking 1720’s, Hoseok,” you tried to temper your anger with reason, but the words still fell hot from your lips. “Our parents don’t just get to decide our futures like this. I’m not some meal ticket for your corporation.”

“You know I don’t think of you that way. I’m just saying-”

But you weren’t having it. This was all ridiculous and you could feel yourself getting angrier by the second, the insanity of the evening finally catching up with you. Your skin was on fire, a mix of embarrassment and rage and guilt radiating out and sweeping across your face. The next thing you knew, his mother would be offering a pig and two cows for your hand. You turned on your heel, ready to be done with this lovely event, when you felt Hoseok’s hand circling your wrist.

“Don’t leave like this.”

“Oh, I’m leaving. I’m leaving this shitty party, I’m leaving our shitty parents, and I’m leaving your shitty guilt trip.” You tugged your hand from his. "I have someone waiting on me that will make my night a hundred times better and I'd rather scream his name than get into it with you or my parents about your failing business.”

You would swear he flinched at your words. But his reactions still weren't adding up. Why wasn't he just as angry as you were? His mom was forcing him into this just like your own parents, so why was he almost entertaining the idea?

"What, Hoseok? It’s almost like you want this. Do you really want to marry me?" He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it and shut it again. "You’re one of the smartest people I know, there is definitely another way to save your business than to marry someone you’re not even in love with." He remained silent, his lips in that line again, his eyes still unreadable, and it somehow infuriated you more.

“I’m leaving,” you repeated. You leaned against the railing, throwing your legs over the top and, in a show of skill in heels you didn’t know you had, landed on the path below. You stomped angrily around to the entrance and slid into the buttery leather seats of your car, grateful for its coded entrance and push-to-start feature. Your phone started blaring immediately and you turned it off as fast as you could before starting the engine and racing as fast as you could down the drive and out the gates. Your mother could curse later, and she definitely would, but right now you knew exactly where you'd rather be.

It wasn’t until much, much later that it dawned on you: Hoseok had never said no to your question.

Hoseok leaned his forehead against the cool glass, willing the smooth surface to absorb any amount of his stress. He always felt at home in this office. He had practically grown up here, absorbing everything from his father like a sponge within these walls of glass. No matter what stresses filled his head, things always became clearer here, while he stood staring out over the city. Everything was lit up so bright now, bustling even at midnight and usually that would be inspiring.

But clarity wasn’t coming tonight. His mother had made sure of that the moment she stood by him quietly while your father announced that the two of you were engaged in front of that room of guests, scarcely three minutes after they’d informed you both. Hoseok closed his eyes and remembered your face then, when they had pulled you both into a spare room, dropped the bomb, and gave you no time to disagree. The way the corners of your mouth had turned down, the way your eyes had widened in shock. The fearful look you had given him before they dragged you out into the sea of people. The way your eyes were on fire, brimming with rage when you finally exploded, unfortunately, on him. The plushness of your made-up lips that he couldn’t ignore as he stood near you. The dizzying curve of your ass in those heels and that dress.

Hoseok’s eyes shot open as someone cleared their throat, breaking through his memories. He knew who it was without looking.

“Congratulations?” said a voice and he could tell it was dripping with confusion. And probably a bit of snark.

“How the hell did you find out already, Jin?”

Hoseok watched in the window’s reflection as the young man entered, shrugging his jacket from his impossibly broad shoulders and laying it across the arm of the couch before walking over to stand next to him and join him in looking out over the city. He was dressed casually for once, in a long-sleeved t-shirt, ripped jeans, and a baseball cap, which made sense since it was well beyond working hours. Thankfully, Jin was the kind of friend who knew exactly where he’d go after this kind of blow. And to say he could use a friend right now was a mild understatement.

“I guess if you don’t know, then someone must have leaked the story to the press. They are eating it up. Stocks are already shifting in your favor.” Jin adjusted his cap in the reflection of the glass and Hoseok could feel a pang of insecurity. Would you have objected so heavily to marrying him if he looked like Jin, irrefutably handsome to anyone with eyes? But he shook off the thought, deciding he knew you better than that. You might have been a lot of things, but shallow wasn’t one of them.

Hoseok lifted his head for a moment before groaning and pressing forward again against the window. Beg as he might, the stress just refused to dissipate.

“How the hell am I supposed to do this? After our honorable parents sprung this on us, Y/N pretty much told me to take my business, turn it sideways, and shove it up my ass. Oh, and that she was leaving our impromptu engagement party to go and fuck her boyfriend, as that seemed like much more fun.”

“Your bride-to-be sure knows some colorful language,” Jin laughed.

Hoseok ran a hand through his dark, brown hair, pushing it back only for it to ripple forwards against his forehead; another usually soothing technique that let him down in this moment. "It’s not like I can blame her for being so upset. She's always had a nasty temper, so I'm surprised she handled it as well as she did from the start," he admitted. You had every right to be pissed off. No one should have their love life chosen for them that way, no matter the circumstances. He just wished you hadn't taken it out on him in the end. But he knew you had a sharp tongue to go along with that temper, and that he did a poor job of avoiding it tonight. He hadn't meant to upset you. Just to let you know somehow that he missed you. That he needed you back in his life.

Jin clapped a hand onto his friend’s back. “So she doesn’t know?”

Hoseok refused to meet Jin’s eyes. Of course she didn’t know. And he had hoped to keep it that way until he had gotten this damn company afloat again.

“Ok, so she doesn't know that you’ve been in love with her for years. Now your company is in peril, her parents are forcing her to marry you instead of letting you woo her like you’ve always dreamed, and to top it all off you found out she’s dating…Oh sorry, fucking someone else.”

Hoseok shrugged off Jin’s hand and headed back towards his desk, grabbing his phone. His safe haven was definitely not feeling so safe anymore. The city didn’t look quite as bright as it had the night before. He had to get out of here.

“Thanks for the neat summary,” he said through clenched jaw. “Grab your jacket, we’re going out.”

“Oh no,” Jin protested, adjusting his cap in the reflection one more time. “I’m not going anywhere with you dressed like that," he said, turning and gesturing at Hoseok's dark gray suit, sure that it was some walkway brand name or another." You’ll be fighting off gold-diggers as soon as we step foot in a club.”

Hoseok was looking down at his clothes in consideration when a subtle cough interrupted them, both of their heads turning towards the open doorway.

“Evening, gentlemen,” the owner of the voice said in a polite tone, taking a few steps into the office.

“Ah, Jeon,” Jin muttered, crossing his arms. “Showing up whenever you please, I see. How the hell did you even know we’d be here?’

Jeon shrugged his shoulders, tucking a hand into his leather jacket pocket. “I mean, this is kind of my line of work. Plus you gave me a keycard, remember?" he said smugly, pulling out and waving the bright white card.

“Speaking of your line of work…” Hoseok began. Jeon was already walking towards Hoseok's desk and reaching inside his jacket this time. As Jin joined them, Jeon tugged out a manila envelope, spilling out its contents on the desk.

"Is this a…strip club?" Jin said, already reaching to slide the piles of pictures of women wearing not very much at all aside.

"That's right. A pretty classy place called Sapphire." Jeon helped Jin to spread the pictures. Among all the almost naked ladies, they could see several of the layout, what looked to be bouncers, and customers. But one man stood out, one of whom Jeon had taken several close up shots.

"You're eventually going to tell us what this all has to do with the deaths you're supposed to be investigating," Hoseok said, a little exasperated. The evening had been enough of a strain on his ego and he would much rather not end it with another dead end on this case.

Jeon pointed at a close up of the man. His hair was dyed a dark blonde and his rounded cheekbones almost had an air of innocence. But his dark, oval eyes told a different story.

"This is the owner of Sapphire, Kim Namjoon. One of my sources tells me he runs a clean game, treats his girls well. But he has a record for drugs. I'm talking about the good shit. Coco, crystal, white."

Hoseok pulled his eyes away from the photos, instead eyeing Jeon with confusion. What did drugs have to do with his grandfather and father or their business? His father ran six miles every morning and his grandfather could still play football better than most. They certainly weren't sniffing coke off a hooker's ass every night.

Jeon pulled out a gadget, a small camera, and pressed a few buttons. A video began playing, projected onto the back of the door, and Hoseok's eyes went wide at the sight. There was the Namjoon guy again, this time at Hoseok's father's grave. He could clearly see him setting flowers and maybe…talking?

"Holy crap," Jin muttered and Hoseok nodded in agreement.

"There is some kind of connection between your father and this man, and I'd bet my last cigarette it's got something to do with drugs. I asked around about him a bit and I'm getting the feeling that there's more in that Sapphire place than tits and ass. I went in undercover for a bit, but that's all I have for now."

He packed up his device, but left the envelope and pictures on Hoseok's desk. "Keep those, jog your memory for him at all. I'll keep digging and let you know when I find out more."

The detective made his way towards the door of the office, then paused, focusing his eyes on Hoseok's face. "Oh, and congratulations, by the way." With that, he was gone.

"Shit," Jin said in awe, still shuffling around a few of the pictures. He looked up at Hoseok who was now staring intently at a close-up of the Namjoon guy.

"What now? Still want to go out?"

Hoseok took a deep breath and exhaled before looking up at Jin. What the fuck was today?