Archive of Our Own

The Innocents

“...tell me the worst thing he’s ever done to you...”

Namjoon exhales a lungful of smoke, frowning down at his watch. Seokjin’s late. He leans against the sleek black car, shutting his eyes for a moment. Another puff of smoke, and Namjoon is ready to head into the hotel when he spots Seokjin exiting the main doors and making his way over. His eyes are downcast, hair damp from his shower, and hands shaky. But he’s still one of the prettiest people Namjoon’s ever laid eyes on. They don’t really exchange any words; Namjoon simply holds the car door open and waits for Seokjin to get in before shutting it. The drive back is quiet, Namjoon saying something every now and then to try and draw Seokjin out of his daze. The man is always trembling and bruised up after his appointments, and Namjoon still doesn’t know quite how to calm him down.

He was hired a month ago by a certain Mr. Junseo, owner of the club that Seokjin works at, to be a driver and buffer. It isn’t a job he’s ever pictured himself having, but it pays well and no one asks questions. Maybe he’s trying to run from Yoongi and all the expectations that await him back home. Namjoon doesn’t quite know Seokjin as well as the others, but he knows that Seokjin is very kind ( Good night, Namjoon. Hi, Jimin, sweetie. Have a good day, ma’am .). The man never raises his voice, never looks intimidating, never takes advantage of others. Seokjin’s talked to Namjoon before, polite small talk, but he’s never shared anything personal. They met some half a decade ago, but Namjoon doesn’t think Seokjin even remembers him.

When they get back Hoseok is throwing himself at Seokjin, knees black and blue from kneeling and dancing all night. He’s all heart lips and cresented eyes, and Namjoon can never resist sending him a warm smile back.

“Seokjin-hyung, let’s go home! I’ll make you dinner tonight,” he says, pulling the older along with him. Namjoon is about to head back to the club entrance to reposition himself as a buffer just as a low voice calls out.

“Jin.” It’s Junseo, the smirking rat of a man waving Seokjin over from the control room overseeing the whole club. Music from outside the employee room filters in, each thump reverberating through Namjoon’s chest. “Come up.”

Namjoon grits his teeth unconsciously as Seokjin hesitates, fingers curling tight around Hoseok’s and shoulders hunching. He releases a deep breath before he lets go of Hoseok’s hand and makes his way up to Junseo. As he passes Namjoon, Seokjin mutters a low “ thank you, Namjoon ” under his breath. He’s breathing as evenly as he can, but Namjoon can see that he’s on the verge of tears. Junseo smiles at Seokjin and reaches out to pull him in by the neck. The last thing Namjoon sees before they disappear into the dark room is Junseo pressing his lips to Seokjin’s jaw. Namjoon and Hoseok exchange a look of concern before Hoseok is looking away as hurriedly as he can. Namjoon releases the breath he doesn’t realize he’d been holding in.

…

Yoongi rolls the small, tart candy in his mouth, feeling beyond irritated at the need to reach for a smoke. The loud music is giving him a major headache, and there’s a couple across from him who’re engaging in some explicit sexual activity. Not for the first time, Yoongi questions why he’s even here, why he’s torturing himself by being here. Then he remembers the laugh, the lips, the soft skin, and his eyes are drawn to their holder. Hoseok’s on the platform, along with four others, dancing to some dark jazzy song. He’s positively glowing, strawberry blonde hair standing out in contrast to the dark club- then again, Yoongi’s ever only had eyes for him.

Here he is, surrounded by people like him (evil, corrupt, filthy to be exact), and all he can think about is how out of place he feels. There’s ladies of the night, mafia, dealers, rich men, pedophiles, all the worst people imaginable here, and Yoongi just wants to run away with Hoseok. A man reaches out and touches Hoseok, caressing him from knee to inner thigh. Yoongi takes a big gulp of his cognac, wishing it were something much much stronger. Hoseok’s smiling, a fake one because Yoongi can differentiate them now, as he takes the man by the tie and pulls him in. Yoongi has to turn away when the man presses a couple hundreds into Hoseok’s hand and kisses him.

“What’s with the sour expression, Yoongi?”

Junseo sits down in front of him, easily blocking out the couple. Yoongi sighs inwardly, cursing the man a thousand fold. The Pig, as he likes to call Junseo, grins at him.

“Still no one, huh?” he chuckles. Yoongi wants to punch him in the face. But he refrains. “I’m still betting that you have your sight on someone.”

“I don’t. I’m contemplating why I’m even here,” he replies, his words blunt and sharp. Junseo’s eyes narrow. Fucking rich pig. “Enlighten me, Junseo.”

“I’d rather give you the orders in person, Yoongi. I don’t trust anyone else to deliver it to you. Don’t know whose hands it could land in.”

That’s bullshit, and Yoongi knows it. He returns the man’s smile with a tight lipped one of his own.

“How thoughtful.” Fuck you . The man hands him a slip. He looks it over, making some mental notes. “I’ll get everything ready. Same time, same place, same price.”

The Pig nods, smiling. “Perfect.”

He leaves eventually, and Yoongi finishes his cognac to wash out the taste of bitterness that accompanies talking to Junseo. Hoseok comes into sight amidst the waves of people, their eyes catching once before he disappears again. Yoongi stands, glancing up at the control room where he knows the Pig is watching. He nods, once, sure that Junseo can see him clearly and pretends to take his leave. When he’s out of sight of the control room and near the exit, he makes a sharp right into a curtained, hidden space. Hoseok pulls him in, hands warm and soft, and Yoongi melts against him. Their lips meet in the middle, both of them sighing at the contact. Hoseok tastes like mint and smoke and citrus; the cool metal of his tongue piercing anchors Yoongi. He holds Hoseok around the waist, desperate for his touch.

“Oh, Yoongi,” Hoseok whimpers, pulling back a bit to look him in the eyes. Yoongi lays a kiss on his cheek, taking in the sight of his boy, pink cheeked and panting. Hoseok will always be his boy ; it doesn’t matter that he’s grown taller than Yoongi or that his voice is deeper now. That day, two years ago, Hoseok had become his.

“Hoseok, I couldn’t make it last week. I’m sorry,” he whispers. Hoseok shakes his head and kisses him again.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here,” he says, smile soft.

Yoongi would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of kidnapping Hoseok and leaving, contract be damned, but Hoseok’s sister is still in the hospital. Her condition is still unstable. Yoongi hates having to go and leaving Hoseok for another couple of days to sell himself like this. Hoseok deserves more , so much more , than taking his clothes off for underground dealers and letting them use his mouth whenever, wherever. He kisses the man again. Hoseok doesn’t cry, never cries, but Yoongi swears he sees tears in his eyes.

“I’ll be back, I promise,” he says, trying to pacify Hoseok’s desperation (Yoongi really wants to blurt it. Three easy fucking words). “In four days. I’ll be back.”

When they part, Yoongi finds that he literally has to rip himself away from Hoseok. Hoseok watches him leave, a rueful smile on his lips as he holds onto Yoongi’s promise.

…

It’s not a normal party. Jungkook isn’t a total dumbass, he can see how pretentious everything is. There’s much younger men and women clinging onto the arms of much older men. Everyone’s dressed in finely tailored suits and dresses and jewels, and Jungkook looks almost out of place in his simple white button up and black slacks. At least he had unbuttoned the top of his shirt so it looks like he’s trying to pull off some laid back look. There’s men and women eyeing him with interest, and Jungkook realizes that he’s snuck into a sugar daddy party (or something along the lines). He sees tattoos on some girls’ exposed backs and thighs and arms. There are men with missing pinkies and dark glasses even indoors. Underground sugar daddy party, Jungkook concludes.

He had snuck in through a balcony when no one was around. He’s not even sure why, maybe for excitement? Fun? Either way, the alcohol is great, and Jungkook helps himself to a few glasses of fancy champagne when he’s offered some by a waiter. An hour in and music starts up somewhere. People start dancing, pulling their chosen daddies or babies to the center of the huge room. Jungkook throws away his insecurities and makes his way to the dance floor alone. The lights are dim, music slow, and Jungkook may or may not be a little tipsy. He sways to the music, moving his body in a way that he knows is appealing to others. Someone slides their hand over his ass, and he squeals, laughing when a group of girls come over and start grinding on him.

There are eyes on him, watching the way he moves his body to the sultry song, and Jungkook likes the attention. He’s always been like that. A pretty boy ends up next to Jungkook at some point. He’s got the plumpest lips, sweetest smile, and prettiest silver hair that Jungkook’s ever seen. Jungkook can’t take his eyes off the little tattooed heart at the bottom corner of the kid’s left eye. His whole being screams expensive- Chanel jacket, Cartier jewelry, LV shoes. The boy takes Jungkook’s hands, and they start dancing to some horrid upbeat club song. He smells sweet when he presses against Jungkook and rolls his hips just right, a tease of a movement, before he pulls away. Jungkook finds himself laughing like a maniac. The boy is laughing too, his eyes scrunching shut. The song changes and they’re separated by the moving crowd.

Jungkook maneuvers his way out of the waves of people and moves toward a hall he’d seen people going through earlier. His curiosity is both a curse and a blessing- he comes across the most elaborate rooms in the world. Some speaker filters in another very sexy, very dark song. People are all looking around in awe. It’s an all red room with dark drapey curtains, a floor littered with whole perfect red roses, red tufted walls, and a huge lit glass cylinder in the center of the room. Jungkook almost faints at the sight inside the cylinder.

There’s a boy (a man, really), completely nude, hidden only by lines of fucking diamonds hanging all around him in there. His red hair is the first thing Jungkook sees, a curly and messy mullet that frames his face perfectly. He’s got the nicest, smoothest, creamiest honey colored skin Jungkook has ever seen. And his face, god, when Jungkook sees his face, he stumbles. Sharp eyes, thick brows, square jaw, round cupid’s bow. He’s striking in all the right ways. A female voice comes through the hidden speaker.

“Bidding for ‘V’ begins in 10 minutes.”

Bidding. Fuck. They’re bidding for him. Jungkook worries his lip, feeling slightly sick as he watches the boy dance slow and sensual for an audience that’s slowly growing. Nausea invades his senses. He forces himself to move, get out of there. He doesn’t belong with these underground beasts, that much is obvious. The champagne from earlier threatens to come back up. He escapes safely and as quietly as he came. He thinks about red hair and tanned skin all night.

The next day, he’s furiously drawing the man into his sketchbook, eyes nervously flitting about to make sure no one’s peeking, when the motherfucking diamond boy walks into his history class.

…

Seokjin wraps the bandages tight around his wrists where the client’s handcuffs had bruised his skin so much, it bled. He feels tears in his eyes, but he refuses to cry, especially with Junseo looking at him like that.

“Did the painkillers help, Jin?” There goes the stage name. Junseo really likes putting him down. He nods yes. “Good. That’s good. Because your next client is in 20 minutes. I already arranged for Namjoon to drive you.”

Seokjin has to bite his lip hard to not protest. Junseo’s working him too hard. His whole body’s still sore from the last client, throat still raw from the man’s excess choking.

“Jin.”

Seokjin makes a noise.

“Seokjin, look at me.”

He looks up. Junseo has a very serious expression. He grabs Seokjin by the jaw.

“You’ve paid a third of your parent’s debt, Jin. There’s still the rest. I expect you to behave,” he hisses. Seokjin averts his eyes. “Maybe if you’re good, honey, I’ll let you off a couple thousand.”

He leans in close, kissing Seokjin with all teeth and tongue. Seokjin doesn’t dare push him away. Junseo moves down and sucks a painful red hickey on Seokjin’s throat.

“You better please the next client, boy.”

He slams the door as he leaves, and Seokjin starts trembling, tears escaping his eyes. He sobs into his hand, trying to muffle his cries. It takes him a good ten minutes to stop crying. When he’s done, he wipes his face, quickly reapplies eyeliner and lip gloss, and exits the room. He pulls his jacket down over his hands to cover the bandages. Namjoon is leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette. He’s looking at the sky, jet black hair swept to the side by the wind. It’s freezing out, and Namjoon only has on his thin casual clothes. He smiles when he sees Seokjin and puts out his light.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi, Namjoon,” Seokjin replies.

The man holds the door open for him like always, and Seokjin gets into the vehicle. Before servicing anyone, Seokjin likes to push himself out of his head, far far away where no one can hurt him. After Namjoon was hired to be the new driver, Seokjin found himself doing less and less of his detachment thing. Instead, chatting with Namjoon makes him feel just as calm, if not calmer. Namjoon’s voice is rich and warm, like amber, and Seokjin would fall asleep to it if he could. The man talks to him about everything- the weather, the news, philosophy, food. Seokjin likes talking to him. This day, Namjoon is quieter than normal.

“Did something happen?” Seokjin asks.

Namjoon smiles at him from the rearview mirror, dimples too cute on him.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought,” he says. Seokjin offers a smile in return. “Were… did you cry earlier?”

Seokjin hesitates, wondering if it’s okay to confide in the man.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, eyes falling to his wrists hidden by his jacket.

Namjoon is silent for a beat.

“It’s okay to cry. Sometimes it’s better to let it out.” After another pause, he adds, “if you ever want to talk about it, I’ll listen.”

Seokjin clenches his hands into fists.

“Thanks, Namjoon.”

A couple hours later, when the client has finished and they return to the club, there’s too little money in his pocket after he hands the envelope to the guy in charge of the money. Namjoon sends him a reassuring smile before he heads off to do his job. Seokjin grabs his things and heads home.

…

Diamond boy is a fucking weirdo. Jungkook sort of loves him. The kid comes to class in oversized hoodies that hide his figure, chunky ass glasses that cover half his face, a face mask tucked under his chin, and a black beanie that conceals his red hair. He always has damp hair; Jungkook is sure that there’s a saying somewhere that damp hair shouldn’t be smothered. Diamond boy never has makeup on at school, but Jungkook can see the same beauty underneath the hair in his eyes and glasses. He sits in the very back of the lecture hall, bending over his notebook. It’s a wonder that he’s even passing the class- if he’s passing. Jungkook has moved from his usual seat and towards the back, where he can see the man if he slants his eyes to look.

It’s been two weeks since Jungkook snuck into the party. Today, diamond boy is so slouched in his seat, he might as well be laying in it instead of sitting, and eating what looks like a strawberry parfait. His tongue piercing is bright and noticeable whenever he licks the corner of his mouth. Yesterday, he was sneaking chips with his head flat on the table,face turned away from the professor’s view. Jungkook had almost snickered when diamond boy dropped a chip on the ground and stared at it for a second before sliding it under someone’s seat with the toe of his dirty sneaker. Jungkook sits there, drawing him, trying to find the perfect shade of red for his hair. Diamond boy is a total mystery.

…

The man’s grip is a vice in his hair, pushing him down on his cock. Hoseok wills himself to relax his gag reflex when the man thrusts into his mouth again. The tears that slide out of the corners of his eyes are beyond his control. Hoseok swore never to cry in front of clients- this doesn’t count.

“Come on, boy. Take it all down your throat.”

Hoseok does as he’s told, choking a little. It goes on for another five minutes, maybe less because Hoseok is really good with his tongue, until the man finally releases down his throat. He forces himself to swallow everything and smile at the man like he’s happy. He reminds himself that his sister needs the money, and then it’s a lot easier to pretend. The man strokes his face, looking pleased and impressed and sticks his fingers into Hoseok’s mouth to feel his piercing. He leaves with the promise to return next week to buy Hoseok again. He stays on his knees for a minute more to compose himself. He takes a couple deep breaths, wishing the taste of the man’s bitter cum could just disappear. A wave of nausea passes through him, and Hoseok has to grab onto the armrest of the couch to steady himself. His stomach suddenly turns, and he rushes up and out of the room.

He feels eyes on him as he rushes to the restroom. He vomits into a toilet, chest heaving and face pink with exertion. Seokjin’s away at a hotel, working, and Hoseok misses him. His soft voice and warm hands always soothe away Hoseok’s pain. He retches again before nothing else will come up and presses his head against the cool stall wall. His hands are shaky as he pushes himself up and over to the sinks to rinse his mouth. The taste of the man doesn’t come out of his mouth even after he brushes his teeth for the third time. He stares at himself in the mirror for a long time, not sure what he’s looking for. All he sees are tired eyes and dark eyebags, and for a moment everything is too much and he can’t stand looking at himself. He wants to smash the mirror to bits.

Yoongi is still there in his usual place, and Hoseok misses him so much that there’s a physical ache in his chest. A quick glance around tells him that Junseo is busy talking to someone, so he strides up to Yoongi and pulls him away from prying eyes. Yoongi’s skin is always cool to the touch, and Hoseok wants his hands on his own too warm skin. In their hidden little room, Hoseok lets his walls come down. He clings onto Yoongi and lets the man kiss his cheek. Yoongi’s whispering to him, soft questions pressed into his skin ( Hobi, are you alright? I’ve got you ). Hoseok only shakes his head and inhales Yoongi’s scent of coffee and those plum candies he eats instead of smoking. The man is comfort and intimacy wrapped in one being.

They stay like that for a long time, until Hoseok knows it’s time for him to return to the dance floor. He kisses Yoongi, tender little things that draw a look of sadness from Yoongi. The man tastes like plum and lilacs and home. Hoseok smiles at him then, cupping his face gently. They kiss one last time before Yoongi promises to come back, and then he’s gone. Hoseok drops his smile.

…

“ Daddy . I’m gonna be late.”

“I know, I know.”

Jimin mewls when the man bites his nipple hard once more and slides off of him, letting him climb out of the bed. His ass is sore as fuck, but Jimin’s a pro by now; he doesn’t let it show.

“I’m going on a business trip in two days so I won’t be able to see you again until the next week,” he’s saying as Jimin gets dressed hurriedly; Taehyung’s waiting to be picked up from school after all. He tries to filter out the man’s voice. “I’ll deposit some cash into your account before I leave. You’ve been a good boy.”

Jimin smiles as sweetly as he can before rounding the bed and kissing the man hard. He slots his thigh between the man’s.

“Thank you, daddy. Have a safe trip. I’ll miss you.”

Another couple of falsely sweet words and dry grinding later, Jimin is exiting the man’s luxurious house and hopping into his car. The black audi was the man’s idea; he buys everything Jimin likes. That’s the trade and gamble of being a high class sugar baby. Taehyung’s sending him text after text of non-stop whining ( Where are you, Jiminie? Buy me food. Nevermind, I’m gonna grab a bite before you get here. Wait for me at the fountain ). Jimin pulls into the campus parking lot quicker than he anticipated and parks towards the back. He takes his time getting to the fountain, well aware of the eyes on him as he strides over. Of course people stare, they’ve always stared. Jimin’s sure his silver hair has something to do with all the people stopping and watching him pass.

He had decided long ago that “ if people are gonna stare, I might as well give them a reason to. Pass me my Versace ”. He’s decked out in rings and earrings and flashy sunglasses and some ridiculously pricey coat. He knows he looks good (why lie?); he has to. To be honest, Jimin often wonders where his confidence has run off to. These days, he’s ridden with insecurities- lips too big, hair too scratchy, skin too tanned, body too plump. Hoseok and Seokjin would literally kill him if they found out he’s not eating meals again. Seokjin would literally chuck him out of their 38th floor penthouse.

Jimin huffs a sigh when Tae’s not there, still off doing who knows what. There’s really no one around this area, which is why Tae always tells him to come here. It’s suspicious enough that Jimin, always looking like a goddamn supermodel, picks Taehyung up in fancy sports cars. The fountain sits outside the art department, which is usually devoid of sleepy artists at this time of day. Just as he’s about to pull out his phone to text the boy, a flash of bright red catches his eyes. There’s a kid sitting on the fountain, hoodie pulled over his head as if he’s trying to hide, and scribbling onto a canvas. The color that Jimin sees is paint. Deep and flamboyant red oil paint being smeared onto the canvas. Jimin is so entranced by the kid’s frantic painting that he doesn’t even realize how close he’s walked over to him. This close up, he sees the actual image itself. His jaw drops.

It’s Kim fucking Taehyung, nude and dancing, surrounded by a curtain of diamonds. The kid has captured everything from Tae’s striking red hair to his honey colored skin. It looks like Taehyung can pop out from the canvas at any moment and be real and tangible. Jimin stands there for a good fifteen minutes, watching, without saying a word. The man is so busy with his work that he doesn’t even notice Jimin peering over his shoulder. A blush crawls up Jimin’s neck and face when the man paints Taehyung’s neck with soft strokes of his brushes, nearly caressing the canvas with how lovingly he paints. Jimin’s mouth opens before he can even think.

“Are you a pervert?” It comes out sweet and teasing. “That’s my lover you’re painting.”

The kid jolts so hard his brushes drop out of his hands and his banana milk falls over from its place on the floor as he kicks it. When he looks up with wide eyes, Jimin is pleasantly surprised to find that he recognizes him. It’s the sexy, arrogant little minx he had danced with at the party some weeks ago. Jimin still remembers the feeling of his hands on his waist. The kid jumps again, this time trying to hide his work. Jimin reaches out to stop him.

“Hey, relax,” he laughs. “I think it looks great. You’re a great painter.”

The kid glups, really actually swallows hard like they’re in a movie. When he’s still in shock and staring at Jimin like he’s an apparition, Jimin snorts.

“I’m Park Jimin. I met you at the party.” He sticks his hand out for the kid to shake. It takes two more beats before the kid grips his hand back.

“Is he really your lover?” Is the first thing the man says. The second thing he says is. “I’m Jeon Jungkook. You’re really pretty.”

Jimin grins. “Why, thank you , Jeon Jungkook. I’m just playing with you; he’s my roommate.”

Jungkook nods, looking pensive as he gathers his supplies.

“Do you go to this school?”

“Nope, just here to pick up your dream boy,” Jimin answers.

Jungkook’s eyes are literally doe eyes, wide and glassy and round, when he looks at Jimin again. The kid takes in his luxury brand clothes and jewelry. His eyes linger on the tattoo on Jimin’s face. Jimin noticed him doing that at the party, too.

“Are you guys related?”

“Aren’t you curious,” Jimin remarks cloyingly as he sits down next to Jungkook to take a closer look at the painting. The kid hesitantly lets him. Jimin gently traces the perfect curve of Tae’s hip and thighs. Jungkook has some real talent. “No, we’re not. We’re just friends.”

There’s suddenly a loud buzz from his coat pocket. It’s a text from Tae. I’m here! Where you at?

“That’s my cue.” Jimin sighs. “I’ll see you around, lover boy. Maybe next time I’ll take you to get gourmet banana milk.”

He walks away from the kid just as Taehyung rounds the corner, looking absolutely ridiculous in those baggy clothes. The shapeless hoodie hides his gorgeous body, and those god awful glasses takes attention away from Tae’s catty eyes.

“Hey!” Tae says, skipping over. “You won’t believe what I just ate. Crawfish! Crawfish , Jiminie.”

Jimin smiles and lets him rant, sending one last wave towards Jungkook. The kid waves back, a look of awe present on his features.

…

When Yoongi asked Namjoon out for dinner, Namjoon didn’t expect to be wined and dined. They’re at some fancy old Italian place, and Namjoon is underdressed and out of place. He remembers the good old days when their old boss would throw a fit about him dressing like he’s still living on the streets. Yoongi is as glorious as ever- hands full of rings, suit tailored, hair slicked to one side. The only thing that helps Namjoon relax a little is the fact that Yoongi’s still the same- shoveling down his scallop pasta and chugging his wine. Yoongi’s always been immodest at the table; it used to horrify the old boss because Yoongi never stopped acting like there isn’t enough food on the table. Namjoon likes that the wealth and power passed to Yoongi from the old boss didn’t change him. Sometimes Yoongi looks at Namjoon like he wishes the boss had chosen Namjoon instead.

“I heard the nasty Pig is sending Seokjin to more aggressive clients,” Yoongi suddenly says, wiping a drop of pasta sauce from the corner of his mouth.

Namjoon grimaces just thinking about it. He lights a cigarette; he can’t help it, not when they’re talking about Seokjin. Yoongi looks like he itches for one, too, but he reaches for his wine instead and swallows it all in record time.

“Yeah. Recently it’s all been sadistic… perverts,” he grits out. Yoongi nods.

“I’m trying to gather some dirt on Junseo. He’s so arrogant that he’s careless all the fucking time. I’m sure we’ll find something.”

Namjoon frowns.

“You’re trying to bust him?”

Yoongi nods.

“I’m thinking about handing whatever evidence we find to the cops and having them do the rest.” He pauses for a long time before speaking again. For a moment, Namjoon thinks, he’s gonna drop it. “Joon-ah, how’s Hoseok lately?”

His tone’s soft, always soft when he talks about Hoseok. Namjoon’s smile is grim. He puffs out a breath of smoke.

“His sister’s doing worse. He’s a wreck if you even ask about her. And he misses you.”

The man in front of him looks fragile. His whole body sags, the red around his eyes evident.

“Jesus fuck.”

Yoongi opens and closes his mouth twice. Three times. But he can’t bring himself to say it. Namjoon doesn’t comment on it.

…

Hoseok wakes the next morning dazed and confused. It takes him a while to snap out of the dream and finally get up for the day. Seokjin’s cooking breakfast in the kitchen when he pads in barefoot and pale. Tae looks up from his laptop with a low whistle.

“Hyung, are you ok? You look like shit,” the kid says. Seokjin swirls around, brows already furrowed, worried.

“Hoseok-ah!” He exclaims, setting down the pan of eggs and bacon and rushing over, just as Hoseok keels over. One of Seokjin’s arms are around his waist to hold him up, while his free hand is running through his hair, as he leads him to the couch. “What happened?”

Tae runs over, calling for Jimin. Hoseok gives a dismissive wave.

“I had the weirdest dream, and now I’m dizzy. I’m okay,” he says, voice light. Seokjin’s still caressing his hair and face, worried like a mother would her child. Jimin steps closer, puffy pink cheeks coming into Hoseok’s vision.

“Hobi-hyung,” he says, voice wavering. “I’m worried.”

“You’re working too hard, sweetie,” Seokjin says. “Please don’t push yourself.”

“I know, I know,” Hoseok says. He smiles, a big bright smile, to ease the others. “I got it, hyung. Please don’t worry.”

Seokjin pouts, torn between believing and not believing him. In the end, he still makes Hoseok rest on the couch for the whole morning and noon. At some point, Jimin rubs ointment onto his blue and black bruised knees and kisses him on the lips. Taehyung stays pressed up against him the entire time, typing away his college assignments.

…

Jungkook is out of his mind when he sneaks into another party. This time, it’s at an exclusive club in a dark corner of the city. He looks up at the neon green lights that make up the name “ Caveau des Innocents ” and then looks down at the dark cellar looking entrance to the place. It’s haunting and inviting, and Jungkook can already smell the cigars and booze wafting up from the den. There’s a buffer who takes one look at his mesh shirt and ripped jeans, smirks, and lets him in. The interior of the club just reeks of money and finery. It’s a mass of emerald and jet set black couches and tables. There’s curtains to one side of the place, where the VIP rooms are. Jungkook doesn’t have to guess to know what takes place in there. The dance floor is crowded, the whole set up revolving around four mini stages, each with its own dancer ( stripper, more like ). Every one of the club escorts are beautiful. Jungkook thinks the people here can rival the pets at the sugar baby party.

A pretty woman passes him, topless and giggling. She’s leering at him, seductively, and Jungkook can’t help the awkward grin that spreads across his face. Cigar smoke swirls in the air. It’s damp and warm in here; Jungkook’s already sweating. He makes his way around the tables, where dangerous looking men are eyeing him like prey, not sure what he’s looking for until his eyes catch familiar red hair. Low and behold, it’s diamond boy on one of the stages, dancing. This time, he’s clothed in some skin tight black fabric that showcases his curves. He’s got a full face of makeup on, and his hair’s curled into ringlets and out of his eyes for once. Jungkook can’t help but gawk.

“First time here?” Comes a man’s sultry voice from behind him. He turns, eyes scanning the dimly lit couch area until he sees the one who spoke. It’s a delicate looking man, pale skinned with deep eyebags and pitch black hair. He’s sitting regally on a sofa, ring adorned hand clutching a glass of an amber colored alcohol. He raises a neat, straight eyebrow at Jungkook. “Kid?”

Jungkook nods, mesmerized when the man shrugs and takes a sip from his glass. When he doesn’t move, a smirk slides onto his face. He’s got a weird little gummy smile that looks foreign on him (and kind of cute, if Jungkook had something to say about it). He raises a hand and beckons Jungkook over. The man’s gold watch is more expensive than his whole art school tuition. Jungkook approaches him, a brief thought that the man might want him as a boy toy flits through his head. The man gestures for him to sit on the couch with him before leaning in to whisper to Jungkook. He smells like some sort of candy or flower.

“You snuck in here, you rascal. You’re lucky my man thought you were harmless,” he says, a smile playing on his lips still.

Jungkook makes a face. “Are you going to kick me out?”

The man leans back and shrugs.

“Are you going to cause trouble?”

“No.”

He shrugs. “Then, no, I won’t.”

Jungkook squints at him. The man drinks his alcohol again before offering it to him. Jungkook takes it hesitantly, taking a tentative sip. It’s a burst of bitter, burning liquid on his tongue and down his throat. He chokes. The man snorts and offers him a little tin of candy drops to get rid of the burning. He’s popping them into his mouth every so often. They’re plum flavored; Jungkook likes them.

“I’m Jungkook,” he says, still sucking on a couple candies. The man swirls his alcohol in the glass.

“Yoongi,” the man offers back.

There’s a show on the main dance floor, where two male dancers are performing something involving stockings and high heels. Yoongi’s staring in their direction, and Jungkook can see his knuckles turning white where he’s gripping the armrest. When the man catches him staring, he pops another candy into his mouth. Jungkook relaxes against the couch.

“Did you used to smoke or something?” he asks, curious about the candies.

Yoongi purses his lips, and for a moment, his eyes are far away.

“Yes, I did. And then I quit,” he says.

“Why’d you start smoking in the first place? Don’t you know it kills?”

The man huffs an amused laugh.

“It was just a bad habit I picked up from someone,” Yoongi says, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. “Too much whiskey later, I realized he wasn’t worth the headache.”

Jungkook bites his lip. “Oh. That’s sad.”

Yoongi nudges his foot with the tip of his oxfords.

“It’s what it is. The fucker’s probably laughing down at me right now.”

Jungkook kind of (maybe really ) likes him. Even when Yoongi notices him eyeing diamond boy and remarks a “ nuh uh, kid, way out of your league ”. They don’t even chat for an hour before Yoongi catches sight of something in the crowd and stands up. He tosses a name card at Jungkook. It’s eye catching, gold calligraphy on thick black paper. Min Yoongi- Suga, it reads.  

“I’ll see you around. If you ever want to sneak into another party, call me.”

Jungkook sees him move toward the exit, definitely going after a blond haired someone.

…

Clients have been rough before. Namjoon’s seen it all- bruises, fingernail marks, bites, cuts. He’s not prepared when he gets a call from Seokjin’s phone and makes his way up the hotel to find Seokjin bruised up and trembling. Namjoon can see Seokjin’s red rimmed eyes; Seokjin always cries when he’s taking a client.

“Namjoon, could you give me a hand?” he asks, trying to push himself off the ground. He lets out a little cry as his legs give away, and Namjoon grabs him, not letting him fall. Seokjin’s skin is warm and soft, but he’s too light for his height.

There are masses of black and blue running up Seokjin’s thighs and around his neck. More are scattered on his wrists and going under his shirt. The way he’s panting definitely means the client hit him hard in the ribs. Namjoon gently lowers him onto the bed, ears turning hot when Seokjin’s shirt slides up. He’s not wearing anything below his waist.

“Hyung, did the client hit you?”

Seokjin nods sullenly.

“He punched me in the ribs,” he says quietly. “He thought it’d be funny to strangle me, too.”

Namjoon grits his teeth and helps Seokjin dress. It takes a long time because Seokjin keeps gasping in pain and clutching his ribs. When they’re done, Namjoon helps him down to the car. Tonight, the ride back is completely silent, awkward, and tense. Namjoon wants to say something, but he doesn’t dare break the silence. Seokjin’s staring far far away, shoulders drawn up like a scared doe. Namjoon can’t help stealing glances at the red, welt like, fingerprints around Seokjin’s neck, like the client had squeezed with the intention to hurt.

…

Hoseok has a big bouquet of tulips in his arms as he makes his way to his sister’s room. The nurses smile at him as he passes; all of them know him by now. Jiwoo is asleep in the bed, pale and thin. She looks like a porcelain doll. Hoseok feels tears in his eyes almost immediately. He quietly replaces the old flowers in the vase, gently as to not disturb her. She’s weak these days, always sleeping whenever he visits.

“Hi, sis,” he whispers, sitting next to the bed and reaching out for her hand. It’s cold and limp. He starts crying. “I miss you.”

He can’t stop the little sob that bubbles out of him, and he has to press his hand over his mouth to not let it out. Jiwoo needs sleep.

“I’ve been working hard to pay for everything. Please don’t worry about me. I love you, sis.”

Hoseok doesn’t stay long after that. She doesn’t stir. He cries himself worn all day and crawls into Seokjin’s bed late at night when he can’t handle himself anymore. He lets the man envelop him in a warm hug and inhales Seokjin’s scent of vanilla and roses.

…

“You’re not supposed to wear a hat over damp hair,” is the first thing Jeon Jungkook ever says to Taehyung. A week later, Tae and Jungkook are sneaking food during class. The kid always has a fucking bottle of banana milk with him (Jimin for some reason keeps taking him to that gourmet milk place). Jungkook is blunt and easygoing, and Tae can’t help but be a little weary. Working in the underground prostitution business has really turned him into someone despisable. Jungkook passes him another gummy peach. Tae shoves it into his mouth and hands the kid one of the small pineapple filled mochi that Seokjin had handmade last night. Jungkook eats it and hands him another gummy. The cycle repeats.

By the next week, Tae finds out that Jungkook is a wonderful artist. It’s an accident when he sees the kid’s sketchbook. Jungkook is always buried in that thing during class, and one day, he exits to use the restroom and the sketchbook falls off his desk. Tae picks it up to put it back, but it’s open on a page, and he literally cannot believe his eyes for a moment. It’s a watercolor of him under a spotlight, hair fiery and eyes ablaze. The red hair is absolutely hellish. Tae inhales a breath of disbelief and sets the book onto Jungkook’s desk, the portrait facing up. When Jungkook gets back, he stares at the painting and then Taehyung, alternating between them for a minute before he quietly puts it into his bag.

Jungkook is a funny guy, and he sometimes says the weirdest, cutest things in class that make Tae burst out laughing. Twice, they had received nasty looks from the professor for their chit chat. Jungkook also seems to adore Jimin- maybe it’s because Jimin is always flirty and chatty with him when he comes to pick Tae up after school. Sometimes, Tae catches Jungkook staring at the nipple piercings evident through his shirts. Tae dances tonight, hips swinging seductively and wearing only a loose red robe. He curls his hands around the pole and feels farther from the present than he’s ever felt before. People are bidding for him outside of the glass cage he’s dancing in, but he can’t get glossy brown hair and bunny teeth out of his mind- even when the highest bidder is between his legs and moving inside of him. Taehyung closes his eyes and pictures that painting of himself in Jungkook’s secret little museum.

…

When Jimin gets home, he’s so sexually pent up that it’s itching under his skin. The man, his sugar daddy, is a selfish motherfucker who always takes too much and never gets Jimin off. Last night was spent laying in the dark, feeling the man’s cum in his ass, and mulling over how much he misses giving instead of receiving.

The penthouse is swimming with the sound of Tae’s rock music blaring from his room and Hoseok’s humming in the shower. Jimin storms in to seek Seokjin. The man’s taking a nap before he has to go to work, dressed in all white and looking like an angel. For a second Jimin is mesmerized. Seokjin only ever looks peaceful when he’s sleeping- all the worries and doubts and insecurities perpetually embedded in his expressions fade away.

And then Jimin goes and kisses him awake, climbing into the bed and straddling the older. Seokjin is melting into the kiss before he’s even fully awake, his whole being inviting and loving, and Jimin kisses him harder.

“Jimin,” he gasps, arms encircling Jimin’s waist.

Jimin hums, running his hands over Seokjin’s face and neck. There’s still those ugly bruises on Seokjin’s body that Junseo no doubt leaves on purpose. Jimin presses small little pecks to those hickeys, like he’s trying to make them his.

“Jinnie, I’m so pent up,” he says, and Seokjin understands- he always understands.

Jimin softens into Seokjin, the feeling of a willing, warm body beneath him drives him insane with lust. He presses his fingers into the older man, and Seokjin’s skin turns rose gold with flush. He cries so prettily, and Jimin destructively thinks to himself that this is why clients always request Seokjin. When Jimin does enter Seokjin’s body, he’s shaking with how hard he’s trying to not plow Seokjin open. Being inside of Seokjin feels better than anything else in the world ( fuck, Seokjin, he hisses). Seokjin’s moans are breathy and sweet, and Jimin moves. There’s chemistry, electricity, between them, and Seokjin kisses his heart tattoo when he groans at the pleasure. Jimin releases fast, and Seokjin cradles him, tucking him under his chin. Even post sex, when Jimin probably smells gross and sweaty, Seokjin smells like vanilla beans and all things home.

Two seconds later, Tae and Hoseok are stumbling into the room, cheeks pink ( you guys are so loud. Can we join? ). Seokjin laughs like bells in the wind and lets them into his bed. Jimin kisses Tae (never on the lips with Tae, though) and Hoseok and Seokjin. Someone’s pushing him into the pillows. Someone’s lips are on his collarbone. Someone’s pinching his nipple piercings. Hoseok’s whimpering, and Tae’s screaming in pleasure, and everything is a blur. All Jimin knows is that the four of them here bring back memories of Busan.

…

Yoongi meets Namjoon at a local bar because he misses the man and fucking Jeon Jungkook’s a nube when it comes to alcohol. At first, Yoongi can see the shock in Namjoon’s eyes when he looks between them. Jungkook’s wrapped around his arm, smiling and young and cute, and Yoongi looks expensive and dark. Today of all days, Jungkook’s wearing pink. Yoongi must look like a heathen next to him dressed in black and leather and chains. Namjoon’s face darkens.

“I swear to god, Yoongi, if you’re doing anything to him-!”

Yoongi doesn’t let him finish because he’s flustered, too. Jungkook snickers into his hand, and it takes a lot of self control not to kick the boy off his seat. He gives a long explanation, assuring Namjoon (who definitely knows that Yoongi only has one true love) that Jungkook is only a friend, not an escort. Jungkook helpfully supplies a “Yoongi’s paying for my art stuff so I’m hanging out with him”. A couple drinks later, Yoongi’s nose and cheeks are red, and Jungkook doesn’t even look affected. Namjoon grins at Yoongi, teasingly, and downs another shot. Jungkook and Namjoon get along better than expected, and by the end of the night, they’re cackling over whatever it is they’re talking about. Yoongi sits back and watches them, a small content smile on his lips as he chews his candies. His gaze lingers on Namjoon’s endearing dimples and Jungkook’s moony eyes. He wishes someone else were here beside him.

…

Hoseok is the one to help Seokjin ice the bruises forming on his face. Another aggressive client; at this point, Seokjin’s sure Junseo is giving him these guys on purpose. They pay well, and Seokjin is just another replaceable whore. The whole left side of Seokjin’s face is raw and numb, and he’s slumped into his seat, letting Hoseok press the ice pack to his cheek. They’re alone in the back room, and Hoseok’s crying because of him. The door clicks open to reveal a very pissed off, very exasperated, Junseo. Hoseok’s arms around him tighten like he knows what’s going to happen. He probably does.

“Fuck,” Junseo remarks when he sees Seokjin’s swollen face. “I told the bastard to leave your face.”

Seokjin doesn’t know how to respond. Hoseok’s embrace is so tight it hurts. He’s pressing Seokjin behind him, barely noticeable but Seokjin knows him well. Junseo grabs his chin and turns his head from side to side.

“How the fuck are you gonna earn money if you’re so ugly.” The way he says it sounds like he’s amused. He leans in closer than necessary and whispers sickly sweet, “How are you gonna pay me, honey?”

Hoseok flinches at his tone. Junseo always talks to Seokjin like he’s a pet.

“Junseo, he’s injured. Please let him off this once,” Hoseok pleads, voice quiet. Junseo looks at him for a long time before reaching up to pet Hoseok’s hair. Without warning, he grips Hoseok’s hair and yanks. Seokjin’s “no!” is covered by Hoseok’s sharp yelp of pain. Junseo sneers at him.

“I didn’t ask you to speak, Hoseok. So don’t open your fucking mouth,” he grits out. Seokjin grabs his hand, trying to get him to ease up. Hoseok’s expression tightens, eyes full of anger despite his tears. Junseo gets angrier, and the next thing they know, he yanks Hoseok onto the floor and knees him in the ribs.

The younger lets out a grunt but otherwise doesn’t say anything. Seokjin throws himself over Hoseok, begging Junseo to stop. When Junseo is angry, he doesn’t calm down easily. By the time he decides it’s enough, Seokjin and Hoseok are both sporting darker bruises.

“I expect to collect the same amount of money at the end of the week, Seokjin. No less.” With that, he leaves, and Seokjin collapses. Hoseok takes him gently into his arms and cups his face.

“Jinnie, are you alright? I’m sorry,” he says, kissing him as tenderly as he can.

Seokjin offers a worn smile. “Don’t be. I’m okay.”

At the end of the night, Seokjin is surprised to find Namjoon waiting for him at the entrance. The younger man stares at his bruises, mouth open and eyes huge.

“Were you waiting for me?” Seokjin asks, pressing a hand over his cheek a bit self consciously. Namjoon worries his bottom lip.

“Do you want a ride home?” he finally asks, eyes on the ground. Seokjin blinks up at him.

“A ride?”

Namjoon nods. “You and Hoseok. You two were limping earlier.”

Seokjin twists his hands.

“I made Hoseok leave early today,” Seokjin says.

“Would you like a ride home?” Namjoon asks again, ever patient and kind.

Seokjin nods, his quiet “yes, please” almost too low to hear. Namjoon opens the door for him, letting him exit first before following. Seokjin sits in the passenger side for the first time, and Namjoon’s music is filtering softly through the car. The atmosphere around them is comfortable, and Namjoon occasionally looks over at Seokjin with small smiles. They save their words until Namjoon pulls up to the penthouse building.

“Thank you,” Seokjin says.

“Of course,” Namjoon says. “If you ever need another, just call me.”

Seokjin shakes his head with a smile and reaches over to lays his hand over Namjoon’s on the gearstick. Only later does it occur to him that it’s the first time he’s ever initiated any physical contact with the man aside from needing Namjoon’s help to stand or dress. The man is looking at him with the roundest eyes and the sweetest dimples.

“Really, really thank you, Joonie,” he says.

Seokjin gives his hand a squeeze before letting go and exiting the car. A couple steps away, the car window rolls down and Namjoon is grinning.

“You’re welcome!” he calls over, eyes bright. Seokjin laughs.

…

Jimin and Jungkook are sitting by the fountain, waiting for Taehyung (because he really had to pee), and looking through his sketchbook. Jungkook is explaining what each piece is about, occasionally taking a sip of his gourmet milk. Ever since Jimin took him to that milk place, Jungkook’s been a boujee-ing his milk up; Jimin isn’t helping with his addiction ( only the best for my kookie ).

“That’s a guy I met at my hometown. He used to smoke a lot so his voice is fucked up, but he really likes pottery,” Jungkook’s saying, a nostalgic smile on his lips.

Jimin smiles as he nods along and flips the page. He groans.

“Another Tae?” Jungkook flushes bright red. Jimin pinches his cheek. “Why don’t you draw me, huh?”

Jungkook pouts, grappling at his hand. “I do! I just don’t bring that sketchbook around.”

Jimin freezes. “You keep me in another book?”

“Well, yeah. For different muses.”

“I’m a muse?” Jimin’s voice gets high pitched and delighted.

Jungkook traces patterns into the fountain stone, eyes averted.

“Sorry. I should have asked you first,” he mutters. Jimin squeals, doing a little dance and clap.

“I’m someone’s muse!” He says (shouts, really), and Jungkook muffles a laugh. Jimin turns to him and says very seriously, “you love me”.

Before Jungkook can respond, Tae’s back and eyeing them suspiciously.

“Who’s a muse to whom?” he asks, snatching his bag out of Jimin’s hands. They get out off the fountain and head to Jimin’s car. Jimin brushes himself off thoroughly before answer Taehyung. He’s wearing an expensive Burberry suit that his sugar daddy had generously gifted him, and if even one splotch were to get on it, the man would be pissed.

“Jungkook paints me, too,” he announces, looking rather smug. When Tae doesn’t offer a reaction, it’s Jimin’s turn to pout. “Tae, did you hear me? I said , Kookie paints me in a whole nother book.”

Tae shoves him hard to the side. Jimin tries not to let shock cloud his expression. To anyone else, it would have looked like a playful shove, but Jimin felt the real force Tae had put into it. The boy looks annoyed, if not downright angry.

“I heard you the first time,” Tae snaps, walking faster and leaving them behind. Jungkook watches with wide eyes.

“What was that?” he asks. Jimin shakes his head, equally as curious.

“I’m… I’m not sure.”

Up front, Taehyung doesn’t even spare them a glance, even when they’re all in the car. Even when they drop Jungkook off at his apartment. Jimin sees his jaw flex when Jungkook mutters a low “bye, Tae” before he leaves.

…

Namjoon and Seokjin take a detour one evening after Seokjin’s taken all his clients. Seokjin had let it slip that he’s never had a burger before, and Namjoon had been so shocked that he said he won’t let Seokjin out of here until he tries a real burger. It’s totally against the rules to go anywhere but straight to the hotel and back, but it’s not like anyone would know. So, here they are eating burgers at some rowdy diner, the two of them squeezed into a small booth. Seokjin’s smiling more than Namjoon’s ever seen and eating with more gusto than anyone else. He feels butterflies in his stomach stir, the excitement of this and the absolute taboo of their relationship overwhelming him.

Seokjin lays a hand over his when he bursts out laughing at some random joke Namjoon tells him. Namjoon gets a rush of goosebumps, and he can’t help the little bark of laughter he lets out. Seokjin looks so good like this- fair skin pink with joy and eyes shining in the low light. Their little rendezvous ends when they look at the clock, and they realize it’s been two hours. In the car, the air around them is buzzing with leftover adrenaline. Right before they exit the car, Seokjin grabs his hand. Namjoon whips around to look at him. Seokjin’s got a tender smile on his lips.

“I had fun, Namjoon. Tonight was really nice.”

Namjoon bites his lip because his smile is already too wide.

“I’m glad you liked it. Next time will be better, I promise.”

Seokjin grins something spectacular.

…

Tae apologizes the next day. Well, he doesn’t verbally say anything, but he quietly hands Jungkook a spam musubi the next day during lecture. He just casually grabs Jungkook’s hand while the professor is talking and plops the most delicious looking musubi onto Jungkook’s palm. That’s an apology enough for Jungkook. It’s fucking delicious, and Jungkook’s slowly falling for this Seokjin guy that cooks for Tae everyday. Later after school, Jimin (he and Tae seem to have forgiven each other, too) takes them out to taste cake at a local bakery. His treat.

“You should see this kid eat. He’s got no gag reflex, I swear,” Jimin’s saying. He winks at Jungkook while Tae shrugs.

“I eat weird, so what? Have you seen yourself? You eat like a fucking cow.” Jimin reaches a hand behind the driver's seat to try and pinch Taehyung. He keeps his body out of reach, contorting like a gymnast. Jungkook’s mouth goes dry because, damn , the kid’s flexible.

“Ya, how dare you disrespect me, you punk?” Jimin laughs, that annoying (endearing), face scrunching, laugh of his that makes Jungkook burst into laughter too.

It turns out Tae has absolutely no table manners. He shoves a whole slice of black forest cake into his mouth after Jungkook takes a little forkful of it. Jimin scrunches up his nose at the sight. After Jungkook starts imitating Tae, Jimin shakes his head and pretends to get up to leave. And then Tae’s phone rings. He immediately denies the call, without looking to see who’s calling. It rings again. Tae denies the call. Jimin frowns. Jungkook doesn’t even catch a name before Tae is turning off his phone.

“Sorry,” he says, casually dismissing them. Jungkook opens his mouth to ask, but for some reason, he can’t bring himself to.

Jimin drops Jungkook off again, and Jungkook thanks them once more. Before he leaves, he lets out a little yelp and rummages through his bag for a moment before pulling out a little folder. He hands it to Tae through his side of the car. Tae takes it gingerly.

“What is it?” he asks.

Jungkook grins, bunny teeth white and shiny.

“I drew some things for you guys. I hope you like them.”

Jimin blows him a kiss.

“I know we’ll love them. Thanks, Kookie! See you tomorrow.”

…

Usually, clients know when to stop, where the line is. Sometimes, they get reckless in the heat of the moment. Yoongi is at his usual spot, nodding along as the foul Pig is talking to him animatedly about some new drug in the market. Yoongi’s eyes keep drifting around, wondering where Hoseok has gone with the man who requested him earlier. He feels clammy all over at the thought of it. The Pig is still with him when a disgusting looking man is dragged out of the VIP rooms, screaming bloody murder.

“It’s not my fault! It’s the whore! He’s a fucking tease!”

Everyone in the club watches as Namjoon drags the man out. Junseo gets up and rushes over, and Yoongi’s heart sinks when the Pig comes back with Hoseok, white as a sheet. His shirt’s ripped at the front, hair mussed, eyes pink around the edges. Junseo’s roughing him up, half dragging, half pulling him along until they’re outside. Yoongi follows, banging his leg on the table with how fast he shoots up. His eyes are glued to Hoseok’s quivering frame. The client had tried to go too far with him. It’s against the rules; Hoseok isn’t selling entirely, just his mouth. Yoongi knows this, Junseo knows this, so it completely baffles him when Junseo throws the first punch to Hoseok’s face. And just like that, Yoongi sees red. Namjoon grabs him before he can charge at the Pig, holding him back with so much force he might have sprained Yoongi’s wrist.

Namjoon has him hidden in the dark entrance, watching Junseo and Hoseok out in the alley behind the Caveau des Innocents. Hoseok’s little cries and whimpers are piercing in the damp silence. Yoongi shoves at Namjoon, but the man is twice his size and stubborn when it comes to protecting people he cares about ( Yoongi, stop is hissed into his ear). Yoongi isn’t thinking straight when he punches Namjoon has hard as he can- if he interfered now, then the Pig will know who he’s been favoring all these years. Namjoon doesn’t even flinch. Hoseok actually vomits when Junseo socks him hard in the stomach. Junseo lets out a disgusted sound and yanks him by the hair. He shoves Hoseok against a wall and presses him there, leaning close.

“Do you know who you just angered? You fucking dog,” Junseo hisses, voice cold and eyes even colder. “Do you have any clue how much he pays every time he’s here?”

Hoseok lets out a shaky breath.

“He attacked me. He tore my clothes and tried to force me,” he says. It earns him a punch across the face, and he slides down the wall, clutching his cheek. Yoongi struggles so much against Namjoon that the man grips him and all but throws him back inside the club. Craning his neck to look back, he sees Junseo with a hand around Hoseok’s throat. Hoseok isn’t crying.

…

The man pushes into him, and Jimin lets out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut at the stretch. He cries out at the pain of the man thrusting without waiting for him to adjust. There’s a snarl on the back of his tongue that he pushes back. For some reason, Jimin doesn’t feel physically there. His whole body is jittery- not because of the man or his movements- and he feels like he’s just on the brink of something intangible, about to spill over. The sugar daddy moans against his neck, and Jimin resists the urge to shove him off. Jungkook had drawn their eyes and lips and hands, and that little folder in Jimin’s hands had felt like a whispered secret.

A rush of arousal flows through him at the thought of the younger boy. His heart starts hammering. Jimin scrunches his face at the total imbalance of sensations. The man above him pauses.

“Am I hurting you?”

Jimin shakes his head no and wraps his legs around the man.

“Harder, please,” he asks, smiling.

The next thrust into him brings images of Jungkook’s hands and strong arms. His body flushes with lust, and the man is groaning by the way he starts meeting his movements like he’s enjoying it. Jimin blinks up at the ceiling, overwhelmed by a sudden realization of-.

“Oh,” he gasps.

“Jimin,” the man grunts.

If Jimin closes his eyes, he can pretend that it’s someone else on top of him. Maybe there’s guilt, a lot of guilt, but it feels good and Jimin wants the pain to ease just a little. When the man’s finished, he kisses Jimin and whispers that he’s pleased tonight. And Jimin wakes up to Louboutin heels embedded with real diamonds and an empty cold bed. He almost grinds his teeth to dust.

The next week, he takes Jungkook to see Taehyung dance, and the boy holds his hand in the dark club. Tae’s pretty in emeralds and lace, and Jungkook is staring at him so intently Jimin may have blushed. So what if he’s the third wheel ( is he the third wheel )? He can harbor his secret by himself; no one needs to know. Jungkook leans in too close, smells too good, looks at Jimin too tender, and holds his hand the entire time. The little vice in Jimin’s head tells him it’s worth it.

…

Sometime after that incident, Seokjin’s feelings for Namjoon change completely. Their relationship is weird, not at all tense but slightly awkward in the way they interact. It’s not allowed for drivers to get so close to an escort, especially one of Junseo’s escorts. In this case, Seokjin is especially especially off limits. Despite the very clear rules, Seokjin starts making dinner for Namjoon, and Namjoon starts driving him (and Hoseok sometimes) home. Two weeks after that, he accidentally calls Namjoon “Joonie” during one of their rides together. The man could have missed it, he might have not, but he hadn’t even batted an eyelash at the new nickname. “Joonie” stuck, and Seokjin calls him that in private now.

They have to be careful, of course. If Junseo finds out, then Seokjin’s a dead man, and Namjoon’s job would be on the line. Namjoon gets ready to leave early one night, after Seokjin promises that he has a ride home, and without meaning to, throws an arm around Seokjin in a side hug. Seokjin’s eyes widen, stuttering on his words, as Namjoon pulls back. The smile on the man’s face is very casual and very kind, and Seokjin can’t help the little grin that lights up his own face.

“Good night, Joonie,” he says, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck for another tighter hug. Namjoon willingly holds him closer, and if Seokjin said his heart didn’t warm at his touch, he’d be lying. When Namjoon pulls back, his lips graze Seokjin’s cheek for a second, maybe half a second, before he smiles and turns to leave.

Seokjin brings a hand up to his cheek for a moment, relishing the fleeting feeling of Namjoon’s lips before he lets out a long sigh and turns back to folding his and Hoseok’s clothes. Jimin is supposed to pick them up in twenty minutes. A few minutes later, the door creaks open so quietly Seokjin almost didn't hear it. Junseo wraps a cold hand around Seokjin’s throat from behind, using his other hand to muffle his mouth when Seokjin nearly shrieks.

“Have you been up to something?” he asks, low and gravely in his ear. Seokjin’s whole body stiffens. “You think you’re going to have some fairy tale ending?”

Junseo releases his mouth but keeps the firm hand on Seokjin’s neck. Seokjin shudders, pulling away on instinct. The man doesn’t look pleased at that.

“Answer me, Seokjin. Have you been fucking Namjoon? Is that why he’s been taking you home?” he whispers, sounding so unbelievably poisonous.

Seokjin shakes his head, horrified. A part of him wonders how exactly Junseo knows this. “No! No, it’s not like that!”

Junseo grabs him up and pins him facedown against one of the dressing tables, sweeping everything off the surface. Seokjin gasps at the force Junseo uses to keep him there. The man’s heavy on top of him, hissing into his ear. When Junseo snakes a hand down to his waistband, Seokjin yelps and struggles to push him off.

“Honey, I think you’ve forgotten who you belong to. Let me remind you.”

He slams Seokjin’s head against the table (once , twice ) to stun him and pushes his pants down to his ankles. Seokjin groans, eyes swimming with tears and head pounding. A feeling of dizziness completely blankets him, and for a split second, Seokjin might have passed out. Junseo doesn’t warn him before lining up and thrusting into him. The pain brings him back, and Seokjin isn’t even in the right state to muffle his scream. Junseo reaches over and shoves his fingers into Seokjin’s mouth, maybe to muffle him, maybe to have a hold of him. The man hasn’t been this rough with him since when he took Seokjin’s virginity some 14 years ago. Seokjin can’t help but glance down, where red blood is spilling down his thighs. He sobs when Junseo rips him even more with cruel, calculated twists inside his body.

“I want you to remember this, Seokjin. I can do a lot worse,” he growls. “Namjoon doesn’t need to work here, I can hire others. I can’t touch him, but I have you. And you’ve been a very bad boy.”

Seokjin squeezes his eyes shut, breaths shallow and quick at the pain.

“Junseo, please,” he says, hands grappling at the man’s thigh to try and slow him at least. Junseo grabs his hands and pushes them up on either side of his head.

“You haven’t learned your lesson, honey. I’m disappointed- what happened to everything I taught you?”

By the time he finishes, Seokjin feels like his head is about to explode with the thrumming pain. Junseo turns him around, aggravating his sore bottom and waist and pulling a soft cry from him. He pressing Seokjin up against the mirror.

“I own you, Kim Seokjin. Don’t fucking forget that. No matter how good Namjoon fucks you, how hard, you’re always going to feel my hands on you. That contract ain’t going away. I own you.”

…

Jungkook has beautiful hands. They’re perpetually pink with constant use, calloused from his paintbrushes and pencils. Sometimes, when he’s working with oil colors, his hands would be splattered with paint. Acrylic tends to get under his fingernails no matter how much the kid scrubs with soap. Jungkook’s hands are always warm (much so like Hoseok’s but still no one can compare to their Hobi’s warmth). From time to time, Tae admires how much power Jungkook holds in his hands alone; the pretty veins standing out against his flesh thrums with his youthful strength.

Tae holds the kid’s right hand up to the sun and traces his finger on the lines and curves of Jungkook’s hand. Gorgeous hands to match a gorgeous boy. He doesn’t realize he had said it aloud until Jungkook’s flushing bright red and Jimin is giggling on Jungkook’s other side. They’re at a park of some sort, a little lake sitting calmly near them. It was Jungkook’s idea to come and lay out here in the shade of an oak tree. It’s an absolutely innocent, romantic, Jungkook thing that had Jimin cooing and Tae smiling. The afternoon flies by until it becomes way too cold to stay out here.

They go to Jungkook’s little apartment, and Tae is hit by another wave of awe. The open space is filled with canvases and sketches of people and places and things. There’s flaming red hair and tattooed hearts all over the place, and Jimin bursts into tears because Jungkook paints them like they’re fucking angels or something. Tae holds Jungkook’s ( beautiful, powerful, gentle ) hand as they comfort a sobbing Jimin.

…

Two weeks later, when Seokjin thinks nothing can get worse, Hoseok’s sister falls into cardiac arrest. He, Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung rush to the hospital, all of them trying to comfort a sobbing Hoseok. They find out Jiwoo needs surgery and medication that are way too expensive for any of them to afford, and the realization of what needs to be done is more than overwhelming. Seokjin holds Hoseok against his chest and rubs circles into Hoseok’s back. The next day, Junseo tells Hoseok his first real client is scheduled for the night, and Hoseok is terrified at the prospect of actually selling his body. But he needs the money, and Junseo says there’s no way for Seokjin to take more clients than he already does. Tae had promised to work more, and Jimin is pawning his expensive gifts for extra cash.

At fourteen years old, Hoseok had promised himself that he will never cry when it comes to escorting because he started selling himself by his own free will and because he’d do anything for Jiwoo. That night, he cries himself exhausted in Seokjin’s arms, body still aching from the client. The next day, Junseo books him three clients. Hoseok cries in the shower to hide his tears when he’s done for the night. He suddenly understands why Seokjin still cries after every client even all these years later.

…

Yoongi finds out from Seokjin because Hoseok is never on the dance floor anymore. He tracks Seokjin down and asks him, a little too desperately because he hasn’t seen his boy in weeks, where Hoseok is. God, the look on Seokjin’s face (sweet, gentle, beautiful Seokjin) is devastating.

“Jiwoo got worse. Hobi has to take clients to pay for her medicine now.”

And just like that, Yoongi is shattered. He has to steady himself against the wall because his legs fail him. The thought of it alone, Hoseok having sex for money, is despicable. Seokjin bites his trembling lip, tears in his big brown eyes, and Yoongi pulls him into a tight hug. Seokjin wraps his arms around him in an instant, body still as soft and warm as when Yoongi met him the first time.

“I’m so sorry, Yoongi.”

Yoongi can only shake his head, overwhelmed with feelings spiralling out of control. The most vivid thought in his head is the whisper to kill the Pig. If the Pig is dead, then both of these sweet boys would be free. Free for Yoongi to take to the security of his home and away from any pain for the rest of their lives. The whispers turn his vision red at the edges, and Seokjin seems to know because he pulls back and pleads him not to do anything rash ( bless this boy ). Yoongi makes him fake promises and begins plotting the best ways to murder Junseo.

…

Taehyung is sure he’s being stalked. The phone calls have progressed to haunting voice messages that leave him chilled to the bone. Sometimes it’s just heavy breathing on the other line, other times, it’s a warped voice telling Tae that he’s going to have him to himself. It has to be an old client, someone who wanted him so bad they’re still obsessing over him. By the time he starts receiving envelopes with personal pictures of him, he’s thoroughly freaked out. Call him weak, call him a coward, Taehyung confides in Jungkook. The younger blinks at him, mouth open, until he reaches out to take Tae’s hands.

“It’s okay, Tae. Don’t be scared. You can stay with me if you’re ever scared. I’m sure he’ll give up soon.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the boy’s reassuring tone or his Bambi eyes that make Taehyung believe him, but for some reason, he’s oddly comforted by Jungkook’s words. Jimin has been with his sugar daddy more than usual lately to try and gather more money for Jiwoo, so Taehyung and Jungkook have been taking the subway together after class. The boy is really soft hearted, and he always holds Tae’s hands like he misses him. Tae understands why Jimin is always saying that Jungkook is head over heels for him. He is. It almost makes Taehyung blushy and giggly because he’s never had this before. All he’s ever known are men with ink all over their skin, too rough hands, and more money than they know what to do with.

…

Their biweekly meetings turn to every other day meetings, and somehow, Jungkook has become someone Yoongi trusts. Namjoon fills them in on everything about Hoseok and Seokjin, two people who Jungkook is beginning to feel very protective over even though he’s never even met them. Hoseok, he knows by now, is the one person that Yoongi is completely in love with. Seokjin, on the other hand, Jungkook knows is the caring man Namjoon may or may not be smitten with. Jungkook spills everything going on with Jimin and Taehyung, and Yoongi watches him talk with a very contemplative look on his face. He tells them he’s onto some very important information about the Pig.

Jungkook is not completely naive; he knows that he’s getting himself entangled in a dangerous web just by being acquainted with Yoongi and Namjoon. Judging by the thirty thousand dollar ring on Yoongi’s finger and Namjoon’s shiny red bottom shoes, it’s some deep underground shit they’re delving in. Jungkook is about 99 percent sure that Jimin, Taehyung, Seokjin, and Hoseok are prostitutes (for a lack of a better word) for mobsters and mafia. But for some reason, he thinks about Taehyung’s boxy grin and Jimin’s small hands in his, and it doesn’t matter how far gone he is in the web. Sitting here, plotting and planning with Namjoon and Yoongi, he’s sure it’s the same thing for them.

“You’re falling in love with Tae, aren’t you?” Namjoon remarks suddenly, snapping him out of his daze.

“And Jimin,” Yoongi adds, the contemplative look clearing from his face. For a second, he looks almost gleeful.  

Jungkook stares at them for a second too long. He nods.

“I think so.”

…

They are falling in love. He can see it when Tae stares at him in class, eyes wide with the same realization. He sees it when Jimin picks them up, the boy runs to Jungkook and throws his arms around his neck. Jungkook is 100 percent sure they know it, too. He tries to stay a constant in their rocky lives, the anchor, if you will, to a normal life. He still slips his art of them into their jackets, still holds their hands, still sneaks food to Tae in class, still rests his hand onto Jimin’s thigh when he’s driving. Tae is reluctant to show any affection at first, and Jungkook wonders who it was that taught Tae never to reveal his emotions. Weeks later, Tae is the one to hug Jungkook as greetings and goodbyes. He’s also the one one clinging onto Jungkook and curling into him like a koala. Sometimes, Jimin leans up on tiptoe to kiss Jungkook on the cheek.

They are falling in love. Albeit slowly.

…

Namjoon knows what Junseo did to Seokjin that night. He had seen right through Seokjin the next morning when Seokjin had been hurting so much he fell to the ground. It had to have been Junseo. The thought boils his blood because Seokjin doesn’t deserve it, and Seokjin doesn’t once complain about the pain. Namjoon lays a hand onto Seokjin’s knee as he’s driving him home one night, and Seokjin lays a hand over his. They’re quiet tonight, mostly because Seokjin’s completely exhausted from being with so many clients. Seokjin turns to him suddenly, eyes drooping with fatigue.

“Joonie, where are you from?” he asks.

“Ilsan,” he says, turning to look at Seokjin for a second. The man is simple angelic. “I lived in Ilsan with my parents and my sis.”

“What was it like?”

Namjoon has to think about it for a second.

“Ilsan was… stunning. They called it the ‘city of flowers’ because in the springtime, the flowers were so beautiful. There was the Lake Park that I used to sit and write lyrics,” Namjoon says truthfully, eyes glazing over at the thought of his hometown. “Sometimes when I lose myself, I think back to the Lake Park, and I find myself again.”

Seokjin nods.

“That’s lovely,” he says, voice so sad. “I can’t even remember Gwacheon anymore.”

Namjoon squeezes his knee. Seokjin turns to look out the window, and Namjoon suddenly needs to ask. He needs to find out what happened.

“Seokjin, how did you get into all of this?”

“This? You mean prostitution?”

Namjoon swallows thickly and nods. Seokjin sighs.

“It’s a really long story. Let’s just say my parents were doing dirty deals with Junseo, and they were so corrupt that they offered me to him if they couldn’t get the money on time.”

Namjoon jolts in shock, jaw dropping.

“What kind of parents would sell their child?” He blurts, head swimming. “How could they?”

Seokjin shrugs, eyes glued outside the window.

“I don’t even remember them. Junseo tells me they were addicts. After they signed the contract, Junseo raised me until I turned twelve. And then he raped me. That’s how I got into prostitution.”

Namjoon makes the car swerve a little because of his lurching stomach and overwhelming emotions. Seokjin doesn’t react. Namjoon pulls over.

“Seokjin,” he turns to him. “I’m s-.”

“Please don’t,” Seokjin says, turning to him with glassy eyes. “I got over it. Please don’t say anything else about it.”

So Namjoon shuts his mouth, but he reaches over and wipes a tear from the man’s face. Seokjin lets out a shaky breath.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Maybe I’m not totally over it.”

He pulls Namjoon in for a hug, needing the touch, and Namjoon holds him, breathes him in. Seokjin tries to hide his tears, but Namjoon feels them on his shirt.

…

The man and Jimin get into the first argument they’ve ever been in. There’s a lot of pent up anger between them- the man always thinks Jimin’s cheating, and Jimin is fed up with the man constantly bending him over to check if he’s been fucking someone else. Their contract is very simple, and Jimin has always abided his contracts. He’s not to sleep with anyone during the duration of their contract, and in return, the man pays him well. Jimin is not a liar, and he completely loses it when the man has the nerve to demand for him to strip and bend over.

“You’ve been with someone else, haven’t you, Jimin?” He says, voice raised. “If you haven’t then just let me check.”

Jimin grits his teeth, backing up when the man advances.

“What do you think you’re going to find out every time you do this?” he asks, voice just as loud. “I’m not fucking anyone else! I already told you that!”

The man grabs him and shoves him onto the bed. Jimin lands with a little gasp. The man grips his hips, fingers pushing into his pants.

“Jimin, I’m getting real fucking tired of this. Stop struggling.”

Of course, Jimin doesn’t listen. His heart’s racing, pounding in his ears, at the thought of being put through this humiliation again. He knees the man in the groin. He falls off of Jimin, clutching his front. Jimin grabs his jacket and bag off the floor, making his way to the door as fast as he can. Just before his hand reaches the door knob, the man sits up.

“You walk out that door, Jimin, and I’ll withhold this week’s pay,” he threatens, a sneer on his lips.

Jimin snarls right back, “ fine ”, and walks right out.

…

He has only one rule in his whole career: Taehyung never kisses clients. It doesn’t matter who they are or how much they pay, if they pay to have sex, then lips are off limits. Tae abides his rule to the core; to this very day, he’s only ever kissed his mother and Seokjin on the lips. Everyone who knows Tae, who’s heard of Tae, knows his rule, so it doesn’t make sense for this client to keep insisting for a kiss. He’s got his dick buried in Tae’s ass, and he’s still not satisfied. He leans in for the fifth time, hands gripping Tae’s face and jaw to prevent him from moving, and (honest to god) Tae panics. He does the one thing he’s never done to anyone before- he slaps the man across the face. Of course the client is outraged. Tae doesn’t expect any less, and he apologizes, but the man is out of his mind with rage. He almost strikes Tae back, but one of the buffers appears and drags the guy away from Tae. It isn’t the prettiest sight.

He had bought Tae for the whole night, and now that he’s gone, Tae’s left to wander the streets of Seoul aimlessly. His phone still buzzes with the voice messages left by the stalker no matter what number he blocks. Twenty minutes later, he calls Jungkook on a whim and asks if he wants to hang out. Despite the late hour, the boy says yes. They meet for a late late dinner at some little cafe, and Tae is struck with the sudden thought that kissing Jungkook might not be so bad. He looks at the boy in front of him, who’s talking animatedly about an art contest he applied to, and takes in his light features. Jungkook beams at him, looking young and darling and perfect. Yeah , Taehyung thinks for the first time, kissing him would be alright .

…

Hoseok is off of escorting duty one night after a particularly rough client cut up his face. Junseo had been furious, and Hoseok’s injuries meant stripping in the club instead of sleeping with clients. It’s not so bad, he decides, because Seokjin is never relieved of escorting, no matter what injury he sustains. Hoseok does his dances for the most part of the night. Everything is routine, all expected. The clients are glad to see him back, and the women still coo at him. The only thing Hoseok doesn’t expect is to see Yoongi in his usual seat. The sight of the man alone brings a wave of heat to his face and an overwhelming feeling of shame. He bursts into tears and runs the opposite direction as fast as he can, but Yoongi’s already caught sight of him, his blonde hair. Hoseok doesn’t stop until he’s at the very back part of the club, where no one really comes to. Yoongi calling his name hardly even registers. He squats down and buries his face into his knees.

Shame, guilt, fear, helplessness. Hoseok falls on his ass when he hiccups through his tears.

“Hobi.” Yoongi’s voice is soft and careful, like he’s talking to an injured animal. Hoseok slides away from him, still hiding his face. “Hobi, please don’t cry.”

Hoseok jerks away from Yoongi’s touch, and the man pulls back and squats down in front of him.

“Hobi, it’s just me.”

This time, when Yoongi gently touches his knee, Hoseok doesn’t move away. The man scoots closer.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks, getting yet closer. Hoseok keeps his hands over his face because it occurs to him that in the two years he’s known Yoongi, the man’s never seen him cry before. He nods. Yoongi lets out a huff of a chuckle. “No, you’re not, sweetheart.”

Yoongi takes his hands, but he doesn’t try to pull them off when Hoseok doesn’t budge. His fingers are cool and soothing, always perfect on Hoseok’s eternally warm skin. Instead, Hoseok sniffles.

“Aren’t you going to let me see your face, sweetheart?” he asks. Hoseok shakes his head. Yoongi tries again. “I’d like to see you, Hobi. I’ve missed you these weeks.”

Hoseok can’t resist him, especially when he says it like that. He shyly shows his face, worried by how Yoongi might react to the nasty looking cut on his cheek. Just as he expected, Yoongi inhales a sharp breath. His fingers go to the cut, gently tracing the outline of it. He finds the second cut on Hoseok’s forehead, covered by his hair.

“Hoseok,” he breathes, taking in his puffy red eyes and tear streaked face. “Oh, Hoseok.”

He draws Hoseok in for a hug, and god, does Hoseok miss him. He throws himself onto Yoongi, and the man receives him like always, like they haven’t been apart for the longest time. When their lips meet, it’s like Hoseok and Yoongi are the only ones in the whole universe. Their pasts melt away, and in that moment, they’re just two people deeply deeply in love. Hoseok sobs and his confession bubbles out of him.

“I love you,” he cries, and Yoongi freezes. “I love you, Yoongi.”

Hoseok almost fears the worst when Yoongi remains still in his arms, but then the arms around him tighten, and Yoongi presses his face into Hoseok’s neck and lets out something akin to a sob.

“I loved you the moment I met you.” Yoongi sounds like a wreck and so tired.

Hoseok holds him tighter than he’s ever held anyone else, and Yoongi pulls back, eyes red.

“Let me pay for Jiwoo. Come with me, you’ll be safe. I won’t let anyone get to you,” he begs. Hoseok almost says “yes” right then and there, but he remembers Junseo and the threats and he just can’t.

“He won’t let me leave, Yoongi. You know he won’t,” he says. It hurts to admit it. “He’s forcing me to escort because I’m bringing in a lot more money for him now.”

Yoongi shakes his head, eyes full of fire.

“I swear to you, Hoseok. I’m going to get you and Seokjin out of here. I don’t care what it takes.”

Hoseok believes him; he’s always believed Yoongi. The man has never lied to him before, and Hoseok truly believes Yoongi will do everything he can.

“I know. Thank you.”

Yoongi kisses him again, and Hoseok’s tears subside.

…

Tae shrieks, throwing the box as far away from him as he can. Inside is a bloody severed hand with a note that reads “ I love you, KT. He had the nerve to touch you in front of me. I’ll do anything for you. ” He gags and throws up right then and there, at the entrance of their penthouse, shaking like a leaf. No one is home at the moment- Seokjin and Hoseok are at the club and Jimin is with his sugar daddy. Sobbing and terrified, Tae dials Jungkook’s number. The boy doesn’t pick up the first call, and for a second, Tae is blank with horror that the stalker must know who Jungkook is. He frantically redials. When the call connects and Jungkook answers all casual and saying he had class, Tae lets out a broken cry of relief, and Jungkook’s tone immediately changes.

“Tae Tae, what happened? Are you okay? Where are you?” he asks, sounding too composed.

Tae clutches his phone like a lifeline. “I’m at my place. I want to see you, Kookie. Please.”

On the other end, there’s rustling and Jungkook sounds like he’s running. It’s nearly an hour drive from the campus to the penthouse. Jungkook is probably hailing a ride.

“I’m coming over. Do you want me to stay on the line?”

Tae shakes his head.

“No, it’s okay. Please be here soon. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

After they hang up, Tae cleans up his sick, but he can’t bring himself to get near the box. Jungkook arrives forty minutes later, out of breath and pink, but he reaches out and pulls Taehyung close. He doesn’t have to ask to know it was the stalker; Tae’s still shaking. When Tae does explain the box to him, Jungkook surprisingly doesn’t freak out when he disposes of it himself. Then, he puts an arm around Tae’s waist and takes them to his apartment, which Tae is infinitely grateful for. Jungkook lets him sob and cling onto him in the privacy of his place. At some point in the night, Tae falls asleep with him on the bed.

…

Jiwoo is awake when Yoongi comes in, a bouquet of coral peonies in his arms. She blinks up at him and breaks into a bright smile. It hurts so much that she looks like an exact image of Hoseok.

“Min Yoongi!” she says. “It’s been a long time.”

He nods.

“It’s good to see you,” he replies. The nurse changes out the old flowers from Hoseok’s last visit. Jiwoo looks a bit healthier, a pink flush on her cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Better. A lot better.”

Yoongi smiles gently, settling into his seat by her bed. She reaches for his hand, and he lets her take it. Yoongi’s hand is always cold. Both Jung siblings have a way to warm him.

“That’s really good news. Hoseok will be glad to hear it.”

Her smile dulls a little.

“I know he’s working extra to pay for the medicine,” she says, looking at him for confirmation.

Yoongi nods again. “He is.”

Jiwoo falls silent for a moment. When she speaks again, she’s much more serious.

“Yoongi, I know what Hoseok does,” she says. “I have for a while.”

Yoongi bites his lip, remembering how Hoseok had plead for him not to tell her.

“You can’t hate him for it, please, Jiwoo. He said he’d do anything for you, and he’s trying so hard to keep his promise.”

She gasps, looking horrified.

“Oh, god, I don’t hate him! I love him; I know he’s doing it for me,” she says. “I hate that he’s doing shit like that for me. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Yoongi leans in, clutching her hand.

“Please try to recover fast, noona,” he says. “Once you’re on your feet again, Hoseok can leave it all behind him.”

Jiwoo nods, a small genuine smile spreading on her lips.

“Yoongi, you’re amazing. Thank you for taking care of my Hoseok. He always tells me about you. He loves you.”

Yoongi turns pink.

“I’ll try and get better soon. Tell Hobi not to worry about me,” she continues.

“I will. Thank you, Jiwoo.”

Outside, the sun emerges from behind the clouds.

…

The next weekend, Yoongi, Jungkook, and Namjoon are on their way to the penthouse. It’s just a quick visit because Yoongi has decided to let them in on the whole bust to try and keep them looking forward. Things have been bad for them recently. Namjoon keeps tapping on the steering wheel, shaking with nervousness. Jungkook takes note that Namjoon never dresses up when he sees Seokjin; only when he’s alone with Yoongi does he put on his expensive things. Yoongi has a calm look on his face, but Jungkook can see past his facade. The man’s practically buzzing with excitement. And Jungkook, well, he’s curious. Today’s the day he meets the infamous Hoseok and Seokjin. The other day, Yoongi had brought Seokjin up ( you ever see Kim Seokjin? He’s the real looker ) and ranted about him.

“Hyung, how do you even know Seokjin?” he asks, glancing at the man. He’s crunching on Yoongi’s plum candies. “I mean, I know about the others, but not how you and Seokjin met.”

Yoongi’s head snaps up, and to everyone’s surprise, he flushes bright red. Namjoon bursts into laughter, and Jungkook wants to know so bad.

“Yes, please tell us, hyung,” Namjoon teases.

Yoongi huffs, rubbing his eyes.

“He, uh… he… it’s a long ass story,” he says. Namjoon laughs again.

“It’s an hour drive still,” Namjoon reminds them. Jungkook grins.

“So, when I was a lot younger, both Namjoon and I worked under the old boss. The old fart thought it would be funny to hire an escort for my coming of age gift because I was still a… virgin,” Yoongi says, looking anywhere but Jungkook. Namjoon is cracking up. “So on my birthday he hires, low and fucking behold, Kim Seokjin.”

Jungkook’s mouth drops.

“Seokjin took your virginity?” he cries, shocked.

Yoongi scowls, kicking the back of Namjoon’s seat, where he’s still dying.

“I don’t know why you’re so giggly, Namjoon. I’m here talking about how I fucked your beloved,” he growls. Namjoon wipes tears from his eyes.

“But he took your virginity, Yoongs!” he says and then bursts into another giggling fit. “I can’t be mad at that.”

“Yeah, yeah. So what?” Yoongi literally yells. Jungkook starts cackling, too. For the first time since he’s met Yoongi, the man looks absolutely awkward in his tailored suit, almost as if he’s playing tough. “You two are making me look like a fucking joke.”

“Now I really want to meet Seokjin. I love him already,” Jungkook says, holding his stomach. Namjoon hums in agreement.

“He’s very loveable.”

Yoongi nods. “He was my first love actually.”

Namjoon gasps. “No way.”

“You bet your ass. Six years later, and I’m still thinking about him.”

So Jungkook learns something new about Min Yoongi, and he gets another enlightenment when they reach the penthouse. It comes in the form of Seokjin, because, by the gods, Yoongi and Namjoon hadn’t lied about him one bit. He’s the most divine looking thing in the world- all delicate and kind eyes and gorgeous lips- despite the grotesque looking bruises visible under his collar and on his wrists. He exudes radiance, and when he hugs Jungkook like he’s known him for forever, Jungkook swears he smells vanilla and heaven. Hoseok is everything Yoongi is not, but Jungkook thinks they fit each other. He’s so stunning when he smiles and greets Jungkook, lips curving into a heart. Jungkook can see the absolute love in Yoongi’s eyes when he looks at Hoseok, and the way they kiss and hold each other is so tender that it makes Jungkook blush and look away.

Jimin and Taehyung run at him, throwing themselves into his arms with loud cries. Jimin literally starts crying into his shoulder, and Jungkook laughs, rubbing his back. He pecks Jimin’s cheek, right over his tattoo. Tae smiles and kisses Jungkook on the corner of his mouth ( was that an accident? ), wrapping his arms around the boy’s waist tight. Seokjin watches them fondly from his place in Namjoon’s arms. There’s joy evident in his eyes, especially when Namjoon offers him a lopsided smile and pulls him impossibly closer.

“You guys can’t stay long,” Hoseok says, moving to the window with a direct view of the street way below. He looks worried. “Junseo has men watching the building every other hour. He doesn’t like when we have visitors.”

Yoongi grits his teeth.

“He does that?” he asks.

Jungkook clutches Tae and Jimin tighter; Jimin presses his lips to Jungkook’s jaw in reassurance. Tae’s looking up at him with pretty eyes under powdery eyelashes. He’s wearing nicer clothes than usual, and Jungkook wonders if he’s getting ready for work. He’s got gloss on his lips and eyeshadow on. Jungkook stares, burning the image into his memory to put into color in his sketchbook.

“It’s okay,” Tae says. “We can have this for a moment.”

Seokjin bites his lip, brows furrowing. He looks beyond worried, but he doesn’t say anything. Namjoon whispers something to him under his breath and bends his knees a little so he’s the one looking up at Seokjin. When Seokjin meets his eyes, Namjoon smiles real soft and it makes Seokjin’s expression lighten. Jungkook wonders how in the world these relationships around him could have ever come into existence. Drivers don’t fall in love with escorts, bosses don’t fuck with someone else’s toys, and civilians don’t get entangled in the lives of mobster whores. Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jungkook have broken the biggest rules in the underground, and looking around, it’s very clear that none of them regret it.

…

Rape happens a lot in their professions. Of course it does. Jimin grew up in a brothel surrounded by women who complained about it, and he’s seen what Junseo does to Seokjin. But to experience it- rough hands pinning him against the bed, a gag in his mouth, being undressed forcefully- is a whole nother story. He’s weeping and soaked in cold sweat, panicking, as the man has his way with him. The feeling of him pulling out is more painful than the initial breach. The sugar daddy undoes his hand cuffs and pulls the gag out of his mouth, making a sound of disgust at his saliva on the cloth. Jimin doesn’t even move- how can he with the pain in his body?

“So what, you’re not going to say anything?”

Jimin turns his head to the other side. The man scoffs, wiping himself off.

“Jimin. You answer when I ask.”

“What am I supposed to say?” he grits out.

“I asked why you’re spending time with a teenager earlier. You haven’t answered me.”

“I know what you’re asking. Just be blunt. I’m not fucking him.”

The man pushes him over, eyes raking over his bruised body. Jimin flinches away from his touch.

“Why are you acting like this?”

Jimin laughs, annoyingly high and empty of humor.

“You raped me, you bastard.”

The man’s face contorts.

“Sluts like you don’t have the right to cry rape,” he hisses. “You wanted it. You asked for it. Like always.”

Jimin pushes himself up, ignoring the pain, and dresses. The man watches him lazily from the bed.

“Next time, wear white. This color is hideous on you.”

Jimin doesn’t grace him with a reply before he’s out the door. In the privacy of his car, he sobs into his hands.

…

The Pig finds out from his men. Yoongi braces himself for an encounter the next time he goes to get the order slip. This time, Junseo’s men bring him to the upstairs office, where the Pig is waiting, a very shaken Hoseok on the ground next to his feet. Yoongi’s whole spine stiffens at the sight of Hoseok, stripped down, curling into himself, and bound by the a collar around his throat. Junseo, the fucker , is smiling calmly with the leash in his hand.

“Yoongi, please sit,” he says pleasantly, gesturing to the couch in front of him.

Yoongi keeps his eyes on the thick leather collar around Hoseok’s neck that’s irritating his soft skin. Hoseok is looking at him with glassy eyes and a very vulnerable expression. Junseo yanks the leash, dragging Hoseok with it. The boy lands on his elbows between Yoongi and Junseo with a grunt.

“You should have just told me,” the Pig says. “I knew you had a favorite. I would have let you have him for half the price.”

He nudges Hoseok in the ribs with the tip of his expensive derbys, a dark glint in his eyes. Yoongi grits his teeth.

“Really, Yoongi. Being with him at the club, I can understand. He’s a whore, you’re visiting him for pleasure. But going to the penthouse? That , I can’t understand.” Junseo leans in, practically seething. “What were you doing visiting my whores at their penthouse?”

Junseo doesn’t expect a response; he tugs the leash again, choking Hoseok. He tsks when the boy doesn’t budge and grabs a handful of his hair. Pain flits across Hoseok’s features, and Yoongi’s hands itch to reach out to him and beat Junseo to a bloody pulp. Junseo holds Hoseok up, facing Yoongi. The boy is grimacing in pain, tears in his eyes.

“He’s mine, do you understand, Yoongi? You might be a business partner, but no one has the right to fuck what’s mine.”

“ Don’t ,” Yoongi hisses. “I am not fucking him.”

Junseo tugs hard on Hoseok’s hair, drawing out a cry of pain. Yoongi grips the armrest with so much force his knuckles turn white. He’s trying so hard to hold himself back, more so when Junseo yanks Hoseok onto his lap and pinches the boy’s nipple. Hoseok tries to move away, but Junseo is holding him with all his might, nails cutting into the boy’s skin.

“The next time you lay your hands on him, think about how much worse I can make it for him,” Junseo continues, smile still on his face. He waves a hand and one of his men take Hoseok out of the room. Yoongi can hear Hoseok’s cries as he’s taken farther into the club.

Junseo stands as well, walking over to look Yoongi in the eyes.

“Let me just end with this, Yoongi,” he says, sickly sweet. “From now on, everytime Hoseok’s getting his ass fucked by a client, I’m going to let them fuck him bloody, no extra charge. All because of you.”

Yoongi hardens his gaze, making himself as cold and cruel as he can (just like the old boss taught him to do best). Junseo’s eyes waver, just barely, but enough.

“Our business is over. Watch your back, Junseo.” You’re dead, motherfucker, lingers on the tip of Yoongi’s tongue, but he reigns himself in.

Junseo is silent for a second before he gets up and leaves with a chuckle. Yoongi decides right then and there, that he’s going to kill the Pig. Preferably with his own hands.

…

It’s the same, brutal treatment of Seokjin. Scratch that, it’s much worse. Junseo is positively torturing Seokjin. He’s cut his hair short, let clients bruise him up so bad there’s expanses of blue and black all over him, and let Seokjin take two or three clients at one time. All the while, he’s switched Namjoon to drive another escort and shortened his shifts. The next time Namjoon sees Seokjin, the man’s resting in between his requests, laying on the couch in the employee room. He’s a mess of healing and fresh bruises and cuts.

“Seokjin,” Namjoon breathes out, so horrified by how tired he looks. The man opens his eyes and smiles when he sees Namjoon. His hair is choppy and shorter than Namjoon’s ever seen; Junseo thinks humiliation will break Seokjin. There’s a deep cut on his cheekbone.

“Namjoon, hey,” he says. Namjoon goes to him and gets on one knee by the couch, eyes wide when Seokjin winces as he props himself up. He gingerly touches the cut.

“What the fuck did he do to you?”

Seokjin wheezes into his hand, lungs rattling. Namjoon can see the purpling flesh everywhere.

“That wasn’t Junseo,” he says. “It was a… client with some heavy gold rings.”

He pushes himself up, gasping and shutting his eyes.

“What, what?” Namjoon asks, blood running cold.

Seokjin shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

Namjoon gapes at him because no, it’s not fucking okay. Seokjin can’t even sit himself up, and  he’s got three more clients for the night. It shouldn’t come as a surprise when Namjoon sheds a tear. Two. And then he can’t stop crying because Seokjin is hurting, and they’re both helpless.

“Joonie, oh, please don’t cry. Talk to me, baby,” Seokjin pleads, soft hands cupping his chin. He wipes Namjoon’s tears away, whispering soothing words.

“He’s killing you,” Namjoon gets out, hiccupping. “And I can’t even help you.”

Seokjin strokes his cheek.

“I’m okay,” he says. “I’m okay. Please don’t blame yourself.”

Namjoon looks up at Seokjin’s warm smile and can’t help but be drawn in. It’s Seokjin who closes the distance between them, gently gently pressing his lips to Namjoon’s. There’s a moment’s hesitation, a sigh, and then they fold together, Namjoon’s arms encircling Seokjin. Seokjin kisses him like he misses him, his touch. He tastes so much better than Namjoon’s ever imagined- a bloom of wildflowers, airy and sweet, and soft with vanilla. It’s always vanilla with Seokjin, and it suits him, all that softness. Namjoon cradles him, a hand behind Seokjin’s head to mold their mouths closer.

When they pull back, Seokjin presses their foreheads together, eyes filled with tears. He keeps his arms around Namjoon, and it’s so perfect that both of them are jolted by the sound of the door slamming open. Junseo and three of his men stride in, and he’s already seen them. He’s got a scathing smile on his face.

“Just like Yoongi, huh? I guess both of you don’t fall far from the tree.” He jerks his head toward Namjoon, and two men grab him, holding him down despite his struggle. Seokjin is subdued by the third, and Junseo turns his eyes to Namjoon. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, you know?”

With that, he delivers a firm punch across Namjoon’s cheek and another a to his gut. Namjoon chokes and coughs, slacking in the mens’ hold. Seokjin struggles against the man gripping him.

“Junseo, please!” he cries.

“Shut him up,” he demands, and Namjoon hears Seokjin’s muffled cry when the man strikes him. “You’ll get your turn, honey.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Namjoon. I’d love to gut you and send your remains to Yoongi… unfortunately, you’re his left hand man.” Junseo leans in close. “Don’t you ever show your face here again. The next time you even look my boy, I’ll carve out your eyes.”

Namjoon glares at him. “Fuck you.”

Junseo laughs and shakes his head.

“You boys are ridiculous,” he says. Junseo turns to his men. “Beat him and then toss him. We don’t need him anymore.”

The last thing Namjoon sees before he’s knocked out is Junseo climbing over a crying Seokjin, ripping his shirt so hard the buttons pop off.

…

Yoongi welcomes Namjoon back into the clan like he never left. He promises to get Seokjin out- blood, sweat, and tears be damned. He also promises to gut Junseo when he’s torturing him to death.

…

Taehyung gasps in pain with each hard thrust, panting hard into the bedsheets. The client is being especially rough, and if Taehyung didn’t know better, he’d say the client is rather angry with him. The man is a frequent client who’s never been like this before. Tae just bites the corner of a pillow and takes it, squeezing his eyes shut. The only thing that catches him by surprise is when the guy makes a brief and nasty comment about Tae’s “little boyfriend”. When no more is said, the guy flings the cash at him and leaves him limp on the bed.

One week later, Jungkook is beat within an inch of his life, and Tae realizes, to his horror, that the client had been the one stalking him. He nearly collapses when he gets the call from Jimin and drops everything to rush to the hospital. Jungkook is completely still, face beat bloody and swollen, and so tiny on the bed. Taehyung cries so hard he nearly passes out, and Jimin holds him the entire time. Sometime in the evening, Yoongi and Namjoon show up, too. Yoongi’s nose is busted from a bad negotiation, blood dripping down his shirt. The nurse in charge of Jungkook gives him a concerned look and hands him a wet cloth to wipe himself off. Namjoon encircles Tae in a hug, and Yoongi ruffles his hair.

“I’ll get rid of him. Don’t worry, Tae, I’ll take care of it,” he promises. Taehyung knows he always keeps his promises.

Well into the night, a badly bruised Hoseok shows up to check up on them. Yoongi goes to him immediately, brushing their lips together for a soft kiss, and Hoseok cups his cheek to look at his nose. Tae is still curled into Jimin, holding Jungkook’s limp hand. Namjoon asks about Seokjin, and Hoseok can only shake his head.

“Junseo’s got him on 24 hour watch, and he took maybe 10 clients today,” he mutters, looking very dejected. Yoongi holds him closer. “Seokjin can’t even walk right now.”

All of them stay the night after Yoongi requests Jungkook be moved to a private room. The price of it comes straight from his pitless wallet. They make themselves comfortable on the couches near the window, but Tae refuses to move from his chair next to the bed. He watches Hoseok and Yoongi curl into each other on a couch, quiet whispers of comfort between them. Namjoon sleeps holding onto a cushion like he wishes it were someone. Jimin takes the small armchair, arranging himself into as small a ball as he can. Tae keeps his eyes on Jungkook’s bruised up face until he falls asleep.

At dawn, Tae wakes first and gets up to listen for a heartbeat, even though the monitor is on. Jungkook’s chest is warm and rising and falling. Tae’s eyes fill with tears. “Oh, Jungkook.”

Without thinking, he leans down and kisses the boy on the lips. When the lips below him remain cold and still, Tae pulls back and hides his face in his hands. Sobs rack through his body.

“Can I get another kiss?”

Tae freezes, eyes growing huge as he looks up. Jungkook’s smiling weakly at him, and if he weren’t half dead on a hospital bed, he’d be the one pulling Tae in for a kiss. Tae jumps up and kisses him again, being very careful not to press to hard on the swelling and bruises on his face. Jungkook smiles again.

“Another?” he asks when Tae pulls away the second time. This time, Tae huffs a laugh.

“You little shit,” he says, hands gently on either side of the boy’s face. Tears obscure his vision. “You fucker, I thought you were gonna die.”

The kid wheezes out something akin to a laugh.

“I don’t die so easily,” he jokes. Tae could have punched him.

Instead, he leans down yet again to press his lips to the little scar on Jungkook’s cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Kookie. I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he whispers.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

Tae kisses him again. “I led him to you.”

Jungkook waves his hand lazily. “Nah. Stop feeling guilty. Kiss me please?”

Tae bites his lip to refrain from grinning and does as he’s asked. Jungkook sticks his tongue out and Tae opens his mouth for the boy. Of all things, Jungkook tastes like fucking banana milk; Tae kisses them both breathless.

“Hold on. Wow,” Jimin yawns from behind them. He walks over, face bare of makeup and utterly adorable. “You never kiss me. I’d like a kiss, too.”

Tae grabs him and sticks his tongue down his throat, and Jimin is laughing hysterically at 6 AM in a silent hospital. Somewhere on the couches, Namjoon groans. Jungkook chuckles. Jimin kisses him too. All of them may or may not have disgusting morning breath. Tae strokes Jungkook’s hair and gives him the most affectionate smile.

“I love you, baby,” he murmurs. Jungkook’s eyes widen. Jimin clears his throat; Tae turns to him exasperatedly. “Jimin, I tell you I love you everyday. I thought we were already pretty established.”

“Oh.” Jimin blinks. “We’re established?”

“Oh my fucking god,” Tae laughs, wiping a fresh wave of tears away. His confession of love is way more emotional than he thought it would be, but he plays it off. “You’re so dumb that I’m crying.”

Jungkook pipes up, still sounding quite injured.

“Just so you know, I love you guys, too.”

Jimin starts crying as well.

“I love you!” he cries, throwing himself into Tae’s arms and gently holding Jungkook’s hand.

Namjoon groans again. Yoongi’s still snoring, oblivious. Hoseok snuggles closer to him. Jimin’s peppering kisses all over Jungkook’s face. And Tae? Tae is in love with a civilian art student and his soulmate.

…

The next time Hoseok sees Jiwoo, she’s rosy cheeked and bright eyed. She actually has enough energy to throw her arms around him and stroke his face like she used to. He holds back his tears because he doesn’t want her to remember him for always crying around her. This visit, she asks to take a walk with him. The nurses offer weak protests, but all of them know just how much Hoseok loves her and are more than willing to grant her wish. So they bundle her up for the cold winter evening and let Hoseok gingerly take her arm and guide her to the courtyard. Just like old times, they sit under a lamp post in the near snowing weather chatting and laughing.

She looks at him with all the love in the world, even though there’s sadness leaking into her eyes when she touches the bruises on his face. Twenty minutes later, Hoseok helps her back towards the building, where the nurses are waiting with smiles on their faces. Jiwoo goes up towards them and then pauses. She turns to him, silhouetted by the light streaming out of the doorway and looking like an angel. Her soft eyes are warm, smile gentle.

“Hoseok, you know I love you right?” she asks. “Because you’re my whole world.”

He feels prickling hot tears in his eyes and nods.

“I know. I love you, too, sis.”

She laughs with twinkling, watery eyes.

“Goodnight, Hobi.”

“Bye, Jiwoo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

…

She dies in her sleep.

…

Hoseok has a complete breakdown.

…

There’s not a single ounce of light left in his eyes. He doesn’t smile anymore. He just goes where Junseo tells him to without a word or protest and takes his clients without any emotion or feeling. At night, the three are always with him, cradling him in their arms and pressing soft kisses on his cheek. The funeral for Jiwoo is small and quiet (just the seven of them), and Yoongi arranged for it to be brief so Hoseok doesn’t have to be around the coffin for too long. Hoseok doesn’t cry because the morning after she passed away, he had already cried away all his tears and all the hope he had left.

This time, even Yoongi can’t reach him, and Hoseok goes about his routine like a whisper of what he once was. Junseo scolds him for his lack of participation during sex, but Hoseok’s eyes glaze over and Junseo gives up. Some clients prefer him this way- unwilling to fight back, quiet, still. Hoseok doesn’t care anymore. He eats when Seokjin makes him eat, sleeps when he feels like it, and works when Junseo tells him to. The rest of the time he has, he’s spacing out for hours on end, thinking about absolutely nothing. Sometimes he thinks about Jiwoo; those moments, he feels the need to be destructive, and he’ll go to Junseo willingly and ask him for clients.

“Why take clients anymore?” Yoongi asks him, even screaming it when he gets frustrated. “She’s already…”

No one says it in front of him, even when Yoongi’s practically ripping his own hair out in desperation. All the sweet talking, begging, yelling doesn’t make any effect on Hoseok. Tae and Jimin hide their tears when he’s around, but Hoseok is blank to it all anyways. Sometimes, though, when Seokjin cries because of him, Hoseok is temporarily snapped out of his daze. Seokjin is the only one Hoseok will let his walls down for, and it hurts Yoongi something awful to not be able to comfort him like that.

…

Two months later, Jungkook’s ribs are almost completely healed and he’s out of the hospital. He comes around often, and he’s the first person Hoseok confides his feelings to. Maybe it’s because the boy’s so innocent and good, but Hoseok lets himself open up a little with him. And Jungkook listens carefully, unabashedly holding Hoseok when he chokes on his words.

He hears from Jungkook that Yoongi has information on Junseo, but he can’t really bring himself to care. It’s not until Seokjin comes back one night, the front of his shirt wet with blood and blood dripping down his thigh that Hoseok does a complete 180. There’s two of Junseo’s men behind Seokjin, who threaten to do worse if they even have the nerve to call Yoongi. They stay outside the penthouse entrance, guarding to make sure none of them try to leave. Seokjin is incoherent with how much he’s sobbing, and he collapses into Hoseok’s arms, completely passed out. They find out later that three clients had held Seokjin down while Junseo flamed a needle and pushed it through his nipple. The silver ring on Seokjin’s body is obscene until Tae manages to pull his bloody pants off to reveal the words “Use me, I’m a whore” carved into the fleshy part of Seokjin’s right thigh. Jimin runs into the bathroom and vomits. The cloud over Hoseok clears, and there’s anger so wild he’s breathless.

Tae clenches his hands into fists as they nurse Seokjin. Between the man’s legs is another mess of blood and semen, and Jimin keeps letting out small sniffles as he wipes Seokjin down. Tae keeps his breaths controlled despite his own hot headed instinct. Hoseok makes a decision.

…

The next day, Junseo questions Hoseok as to why Seokjin hasn’t showed up for work, and Hoseok shoves him hard against the wall, keeping an elbow on his throat.

“Listen to me, you fucker,” he hisses. “Seokjin was bleeding to death when he got home last night. Don’t you ever lay your hands on him like that again.”

Junseo is so shocked that he doesn’t even have time to react until Hoseok slams him hard again.

“Our contract is over. Jiwoo is dead. I don’t need to do this anymore. I sure as hell don’t need you anymore.”

To his surprise, Junseo laughs, but Hoseok tries not to look fazed.

“Hoseok, did I break you?” he asks. “You know you’ll be back. You can’t live without this anymore.”

“This?”

Junseo spreads his arms.

“Baby, Yoongi won’t be enough for you. Once a whore, always a whore. ”

Hoseok’s whole body burns with the same anger he felt last night. He thinks about Seokjin’s bleeding body and pulls back his arm. He socks Junseo in the nose as hard as he can, feeling the satisfying crunch under his fist. The man stumbles and loses his footing, looking up at him in total disbelief.

“Fuck you. I’m not a whore,” he spits. “And Yoongi is enough. He’s always been enough. Watch your back, Junseo. He isn’t happy with you.”

Junseo clutches his bleeding nose, glaring up at him. “You think I’m gonna let you leave so easily? I still have Seokjin, and that contract isn’t going away. You forget who I am, Hoseok.”

“You’re a dirty fucking rat who backstabs your clients and pimps out their children. I know you, and I know that people like you always get what they deserve.”

Hoseok turns and leaves, hoping to God that he’ll never need to step foot into the Caveau des Innocents ever again.

…

Taehyung is burrowing into Jungkook’s chest, trying to get some sleep, when the front door opens with a creak and Jimin walks in looking like death. Jungkook jumps up with a gasp, rushing over to grab him before he falls over. Jimin’s limping real bad, tear tracks dried on his cheeks, and Tae scans his whole body for injuries. No blood, no cuts, so Tae knows exactly what the man’s done.

“Hey, Kookie, Tae,” Jimin says, smiling weakly. He looks like he’s in pain. “What have you guys been up to?”

Tae worries his bottom lip until it’s raw and red.

“What do you need, Jiminie? How can we help?”

Jimin sighs, falling onto the couch.

“Just- can you just come here?” He beckons them into his arms, holding on tight. Jungkook’s chin tremors, tears brimming in his eyes, as he holds them. Tae curls his fingers into Jimin’s sweaty hair and pulls him in closer.

…

The club isn’t happy to let him go, but Tae doesn’t have a contract or anything holding him there. The lady in charge of overseeing the sex workers gives him a rueful look.

“The clients are gonna miss you,” she says. “Be careful not to let people know where you go. Old clients can get real upset you’re gone.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” Tae says, gathering his things. “If I’m lucky, I’ll be leaving town soon.”

She hums. “Whoever he is you’re leaving here for, I hope he’s good to you.”

For a second, all Tae can see is Jungkook’s smiley little face and golden skin.

“He’s really good to me. He really is.”

The woman nods, waving her hand.

“Alright, alright. Go get him, V.”

He leaves with a final smile at her and one last glance at the club that took him in when he was in the midst of poverty. He never does come back here again.

…

“I don’t think it’s real.”

Yoongi folds his hands onto his desk, looking up at Namjoon with a sudden glint in his eyes. Namjoon knows that look.

“Yoongi. I don’t think the Pig made any contracts with Seokjin’s parents.”

It makes sense, perfect sense, and two seconds later, they’re on the phone with a very tired Seokjin. He’s talking in a hushed, fast tone like he’s trying not to get caught.

“No, I’ve never seen it. Junseo’s only ever told me about it,” Seokjin says. And it all fucking falls into place.

“Seokjin, baby, I…” Namjoon swallows thickly. “I don’t think the contract’s real.”

The silence on the other end is alarming really, and then Seokjin exhales a long breath.

“Well shit. That makes a lot of sense actually.”

Yoongi nods. “I’m sorry, Seokjin. It’s a lot to take in. But on the other hand, at least you’re not really bound to him by legitimate claim.”

“Yoongi, I still can’t get out of here unless there’s proof, you know that. And I-”

On Seokjin’s line, they hear a door opening, and the line goes dead.

Namjoon grits his teeth and slams his fist onto the desk. Yoongi doesn’t bat an eye.

“Did Hoseok tell you what Junseo did to Seokjin?” Namjoon snarls, lighting a cigarette. He’s been smoking too much lately. His addiction only ever waives around Seokjin, who eases everything about Namjoon.

Yoongi nods, eyes cast toward the floor.

“I’m gonna get the proof, I swear to god. Next week, we need to get them all out of the penthouse. You know my residence, right? The private one.” Namjoon nods. “Take them there.”

“Next week? That’s not enough time.”

“Joon. Next week. Get them all out of there. I will have everything ready.”

Namjoon nods. “Ok, I will. I’m allowed to kill Junseo’s guards right?”

“Kill them all. None of them deserve to live.”

Yoongi’s got a hard look in his eyes, the white hot fire behind his pupils mirroring the old boss exactly. Namjoon understands why Yoongi’s men are obsessed and a little in love with him- he’s brilliant. Yoongi blinks up at him because he’s been staring for a while.

“What?”

Namjoon smiles.

“You make a good boss. I can’t believe you wanted it to be me.”

The man snorts.

“You’re more level headed and you always know what to do. If the old fart wasn’t so set on me, he’d have chosen you.”

But Yoongi’s pink in the ears, and Namjoon reaches out to grip his shoulder. Yoongi huffs an awkward laugh and returns to his sorting. Just when Namjoon’s sure he’s not going to say anymore, Yoongi mumbles under his breath.

“Hyung will take care of it. I’ll take care of you all. Don’t worry, Namjoon.”

“I know, hyung. Thank you.”

…

The scars left over by the cuts are hideous. They’re still healing, all red and crusting over, and Seokjin hates looking at them. The words engraved into his skin are like a fucking brand. It’s worse that they’re hidden from plain sight because only Seokjin will know it’s there under his clothes. Intimacy with anyone will bring back thoughts of the words; his partners will see them on his thigh when he undresses. Sitting here, in the back room, Seokjin can’t even bare to look at himself. The piercing on his body is just as disgusting.

Ever since Hoseok had left the club, Junseo’s been in a nasty mood. Paranoia lingers around him, hanging thick and heavy. He wonders if Yoongi had threatened him, because Junseo is set about having men accompany Seokjin everywhere. One of these days now, Seokjin’s anticipating Junseo to break. The other day, he had gripped Seokjin by the throat and pressed him down against a table. “ I’m giving you until next year to make up the rest of the money. If I don’t have the money in my hand by then, I’ll kill all your little boyfriends .”

Seokjin had looked at him for a minute, just taking in his pathetic bluff, before smiling and asking just how much money he owes. The man’s eyes had widen a fraction, and Seokjin is sure he knows his lies are crumbling. So he gets a sharp slap across the face for his question before Junseo releases him. The next time Junseo tells him his client for the night is bringing a group of friends, Seokjin refuses him. Junseo lose his cool.

“Seokjin, I will drug you and have them fuck you while you’re plastered. Do not make me have to do that again.”

Seokjin remembers the first time all too well to want a repeat. He shuts up.

…

The Pig lies to him. Seokjin walks into the room, already suspicious because Junseo opts to drive him here himself. The men waiting for him are big and covered with ink, and they look at Seokjin like he’s prey. Seokjin never takes drinks or drugs from his clients because sex while wasted is a whole nother nightmare, and Seokjin hates it more than prostituting itself. This time, Junseo forces him to down the whiskey handed to him, and Seokjin chokes down the burning liquid. A couple of minutes later, Seokjin’s so dizzy he can’t focus on anything, and the men are laughing, touching him.

When he comes to, he’s covered in filth, body aching and raw. Junseo’s smoking by the balcony, wearing only a pair of loose pants, and a suitcase full of money lays by the foot of the bed. Seokjin gasps at the head splitting pain that overwhelms him, and Junseo flicks cigarette ashes to the ground. Seokjin glares at him as best as he can, but he can’t really see anything but a blur.

“You drugged me. You promised you wouldn’t.” His words comes out slurred.

The man comes over and sits on the bed. He blows smoke into Seokjin’s face.

“Honey, I didn’t promise you shit.”

Seokjin tries to push himself off the soiled bed, legs terribly wobbly, and almost falls on his face.

“What the hell did you give me?” He asks, trying to regain his footing. His whole lower body feels like someone ran him over with a truck. “What did you do to me?”

Junseo lights another cigarette.

“Ketamine in the whiskey.” He turns to look at Seokjin, who’s still on the ground holding his head. “What do you mean ‘what did we do’? We took turns, obviously.”

Seokjin vomits, spluttering. Tears squeeze out of the corners of his eyes.

Junseo pretends to think. “Oh, and two of them may have fucked you at the same time. I don’t remember- it was quite a haze. We were all pretty doped up.”

“I hate you. Fuck you- why me ?”

A laugh.

“Why you? Oh, Jin, you don’t know how good you feel,” the man says, amused. “You’re so easy.”

“You groomed me when I was a child. How can you live with yourself?” Seokjin asks, dry heaving. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The man takes a long drag of his smoke. Seokjin sees black around the corners of his vision.

“Save your breath, Jin. We both know that’s not a question I can answer.”

Seokjin blacks out.

…

Hoseok calls Yoongi the moment Junseo’s men drop off an unconscious Seokjin in his arms.

“Yoongi, they drugged him.”

He sits upright in bed, sleep ebbing away with his shock. Hoseok sounds downright pissed. Yoongi literally feels his heart tear at the thought of Seokjin being forced while intoxicated. It’s the one thing Seokjin is against, and Junseo didn’t listen. Maybe he really doesn’t know Yoongi would do anything for his boys.

“Fuck it,” Yoongi mutters. Enough is enough. “Hoseok, Namjoon and I are coming over right now. Can you make sure all four of you are ready to go? It needs to be a quick exit or Junseo’s gonna be alerted.”

On the other side, Hoseok is already moving.

“Of course. Be careful, baby. Junseo’s got more men outside than usual.”

Yoongi swallows thickly at the endearing term. “Got it. We’ll see you soon. Love you.”

He hangs up, face red, and goes to wake Namjoon.

“Namjoon, get up. We’re going to get them now. They drugged and raped Seokjin, and I sure as hell won’t sit back and let it happen again,” he says, wrapping a robe around his silk pajamas. Namjoon is up in an instant, completely ready. They head out, two of their own men following close behind. Their driver gives them a nod as they climb into the car. Yoongi straps on his holster, watching Namjoon do the same.

“We kill all of Junseo’s men and get the four out of there as fast as we can because one of the men is bound to call for backup. Then we go to that house for the time being. For as long as needed. Junseo might be a fucking idiot, but he’s still at the top of the syndicate,” Yoongi says, trying to contain his worry. “I already sent someone to get Jungkook so he should get there before us.”

Namjoon looks positively regal in those traditional robes, and Yoongi feels a swell of pride.

“Yoongi, I think I know what I want to do to Junseo when we get our hands on him,” Namjoon says, calculating each word.

Yoongi quirks his lips at that, eyes full of mirth.

“He’s all yours.”

…

Hoseok ushers the boys into the car and then gets in himself, Yoongi and Namjoon jumping in last before the driver speeds off into the night. When they catch their breaths, Hoseok throws his arms around Yoongi as tight as he can. The man, still smelling like plum candy and white florals, clutches him tight and breathes him in. Seokjin is still half drugged, head swimming and eyes unfocused. All he has time to do is press his lips to Namjoon’s before he’s out again. Namjoon tucks Seokjin against him and under his arm, resting Seokjin’s head on his shoulder. He looks like he wants to cry.

“Jungkookie is okay, right?” Jimin asks, brows furrowed. Tae’s already dialing for him. All they hear is Tae’s side of the call, but it’s enough to reassure everyone in the car.

“Where are you? Thank god. I was worried. I love you, too. Jimin’s fine. I’ll see you soon. I love you, bye.”

Tae hangs up with tears in his eyes, and Jimin brings him in close. Yoongi releases a sigh, closing his eyes briefly in relief.

“What happens now?” Hoseok asks, voice small. He peers up at Yoongi through thick eyelashes, looking very vulnerable.

Yoongi smiles at him.

“Now, you four rest. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he replies. “After that, Namjoon and I will deal with Junseo.”

Jimin suddenly lets out a little gasp.

“Oh fuck. I still need to end the contract with him,” he says, and everyone already knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Do you want one of us to go with you?” Namjoon asks. “Or we could take care of it for you?”

The boy shakes his head. “I should do it. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Jiminie, don’t worry about him for now. We’ll deal with him when it comes up,” Hoseok says, taking the boy’s hand. Jimin leans in to press a fat kiss to Hoseok’s lips. Yoongi clears his throat, and all Jimin does is stick his tongue out at him. Tae snorts.

Half an hour later, Namjoon is the only one awake; the rest of them are passed out in exhaustion. He smooths a strand of Seokjin’s hair out of his face.

…

The first thing Yoongi had done when they got to his (beautiful, private, totally off grid) mansion is destroy all their phones. He takes a sledgehammer from the toolhouse behind the house and lines their phones up in a row on the driveway. Seven heavy swings (and Jungkook sobbing in the background) and they’re totally untraceable. Jungkook and Tae’s laptops go next, and Tae has to wrestle it out of the boy’s grasp, laughing uncontrollably at his protests. Afterwards, they cram around Seokjin’s bed, eating whatever the live in chef had prepared. Namjoon holds Seokjin’s hand the whole time until Hoseok plunks his plate in front of him and watches him eat.

The boys adapt to the new place quite well. Yoongi’s never seen Hoseok smile quite like that before. When the drugs are completely flushed from Seokjin’s system two days later, that’s when they all start to really flourish. Jungkook calls his parents- because, believe it or not, he’s still a civilian with a normal family- and tells them that he’s staying with some friends for a while and that he accidentally damaged his phone. His mother is actually quite laid back even though she asks to speak to his so called friend. Yoongi chats with her on the phone for a bit, before she’s satisfied.

Seokjin is like a beacon for the six of them. His presence in the house is always comforting, especially to the younger three. Yoongi remembers the place from having grown up in it with Namjoon and the old boss, and it’s never been so homely. Seokjin brings a warmth with him wherever he goes, and Yoongi can smell his scent in every part of the house he graces. Seokjin and Namjoon fit together like water and fire, and every second they’re together looks like they’re falling deeper in love. Yoongi admits that Seokjin gives him comfort like no other. Maybe a part of him is really still in love with the man.

And Hoseok, god. Yoongi loves him utterly. The boy lights up the world. He cries, for the first time, about Jiwoo in front of Yoongi in the privacy of their bedroom, and if that isn’t progression, Yoongi doesn’t know what is. He looks a lot more serene here, like he belongs in silk robes and traditional architecture and forest scenery. Sometimes, Yoongi almost yearns to know what the pre-sex work Hoseok was like if he’s so stunning even now. At night, Hoseok curls against him, gently laying his head on Yoongi’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. In the mornings, if Yoongi’s still holding his boy, then he’s got no complaints.

…

Seokjin is well aware that Junseo’s tearing up the whole city looking for them, but Yoongi and Namjoon never look bothered. The scars on Seokjin’s thigh have healed pretty much completely, save for a few tender spots. Just looking at them makes him sick; he can’t imagine how the others feel when they catch sight of them occasionally. Seokjin keeps them hidden as best as he can, and at night, when he’s burrowed deep into the sherpa blankets, he’s consumed by the shame of having those words carved into his skin. Namjoon is intimate with him, but they’re not at that point where they see each other undressed.

The first time the man’s ever sees the damage done is a couple weeks later, when Seokjin is changing after his shower and Namjoon enters their room, forgetting to knock. The man eyes the pink and white expanse of his thigh and lets out a choked off sound. Seokjin scrambles to hide his skin, but Namjoon is already stepping closer, asking for permission to get a closer look. And all the love and hurt and pain in his eyes make Seokjin nod and let him near. Namjoon gets on his knees in front of him at the bed and stares at each individual laceration. Every second of silence between them is excruciatingly loud.

“Seokjin,” Namjoon breaths. “Oh god.”

Gently, so gently, he presses the tip of his forefinger onto the deepest scar, where the “w” begins. Seokjin watches him, biting his lower lip so hard it almost splits.

“Junseo did this?” He knows but he asks anyways. Just for confirmation.

Seokjin wipes a stray tear off his cheek. “Yeah. He carved the words. The other guys were just holding me down so I couldn’t move.”

“I’m so sorry,” Namjoon says, his other hand coming up to cup the back of Seokjin’s thighs, supporting him like always. “I wish I could have stopped this.”

“It’s okay now. It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Seokjin whispers, looking down at him. “It’s okay, Namjoon.”

The man leans down and kisses the mass of scars, pressing butterfly soft pecks on every bit of skin he can reach. Seokjin starts crying right then and there, and Namjoon leans up to kiss his lips, too. They fall onto the bed together, Namjoon chastely kissing away Seokjin’s tears until he isn’t trembling all over anymore. Seokjin wraps his arms around Namjoon’s neck and pulls him in, their lips molding together like missing puzzle pieces.

…

Jungkook grows a habit of spending Yoongi’s money on expensive canvases and paints to draw everyone in the house. Sometimes, one of them will wake up to a portrait of themselves laid on their bedside table. It’s second nature to draw Tae now. Jungkook can picture exactly how he looks, exactly where those cute beauty marks are on his round face. Jimin’s lips occupy the most space in his head, and he spends hours painting and repainting those lips. Hoseok has become one of his favorite people to paint, mostly because the man’s got unparalleled proportions- heart shaped lips, cresented eyes, and lovely bone structure.

Whenever he has free time, Jungkook puts a lot of time into mixing perfect palettes for each of them. Seokjin is motherly and soft in a way that juggles Jungkook’s heart, and he always paints the man with pinks and creams to match his tenderness. Yoongi is a clash of deep indigo, white, and black, always unpredictable and powerful like a storm. Namjoon is a palette of rich browns and sky blues that reflect his love of the sea and comforting aura. Hoseok is always sunny and green, and if Jungkook could chose a color for him, it’s be the kind of sunset orange that people dream about. Jimin is always drenched in lilac and magenta, soft but unique colors that Jungkook has a lot of trouble mixing. And Tae…

There is no one color to describe Taehyung. Some days, he’s a fiery red, passionate and argumentative, grinding his hips or snarling a remark. Other days, he’s a powdery peach when he wakes in their arms, mouth already attaching to theirs. On rare occasions, Tae becomes a neon daring green that has Jungkook quaking in his clothes. Green is when Tae looks at him with so much intensity and lust that it physically aches in every inch of Jungkook’s body. But soft grey is Jungkook’s favorite color for Tae. Soft grey is when Tae leans on the balcony and sings to the moon with his deep voice, eyes closed and relaxed. Soft grey is when Tae’s scent clings to Jungkook’s clothes and pillow and his whole head is filled with him and his red hair. Soft grey is when their lips collide under the sheets, and Tae cries because he’s never been loved before.

Jungkook loves Jimin ( of course he fucking does ), just as much as Tae, but Taehyung has a grip on his heart that’s so tight, sometimes Jungkook feels like he’s suffocating. Nothing else in the world has ever made Jungkook feel so strongly except these two boys tucked against him in the stillness of the night.

…

Mornings are always chaotic. Namjoon wakes to the sound of loud cackling from down the hall, where he knows his maknaes are sleeping. He rolls over, already groaning because Seokjin’s side of the bed is empty. The man always wakes so early to cook breakfast, sometimes Namjoon would rather starve than wake without Seokjin in his arms. He hauls himself out of bed, wrapping a fluffy robe around himself, and heads downstairs to the kitchen. Hoseok is already drinking his cup of coffee, and he looks up as Namjoon enters.

“Morning, Joon.”

“Hey, Hobi.” He smiles. Seokjin turns and smiles at him, looking absolutely beautiful in the soft morning light filtering through the huge windows all around. He’s cooking up something delightful smelling. Namjoon goes and kisses him, holding him from behind for a minute.

Seokjin hums contently. “Good morning, baby.”

“Morning, baby,” Namjoon says back, grinning shyly.

There’s the sound of scrambling feet and muffled laughter coming down the stairs, and Jimin bursts into the kitchen first and dashes behind Hoseok.

“Hyung, hyung, save me!” He wails, and Hoseok chuckles as Jungkook and Taehyung run in looking for him.

“Park Jimin, you’re fucking dead!” Tae yells, a playful lopsided smirk on his face. “Kookie, you go left, I go right.”

“No, don’t ! I’m begging!”

Seokjin’s scolding them for being too loud, trying to hide a smile.

“Jimin started it!” Jungkook says, dead set on grabbing the boy. “I’m gonna get you, Minie.”

He swipes at him, and Jimin squeals, hiding behind Namjoon now. Tae snatches him, pulling him out and tickling his sides. Jungkook joins, making Jimin scream with laughter, and that’s when Yoongi makes his appearance, whining and complaining about the noise. Hoseok takes him into his arms and presses kisses all over his face. That does the trick, and Yoongi drinks his coffee with a dazed look on him. When the kids are done being kids, they remember to do their ritual of kissing Seokjin and Hoseok good morning. Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jungkook watch them exchange full kisses like it’s the most normal thing to do with your best friends.

“Oh,” Yoongi says, blinking fast. “That’s… that’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook adds, his banana milk dribbling down his chin. “ Nice .”

Namjoon scoffs. “Why do you guys have to make everything weird?”

Jimin grins cheekily at Yoongi and Namjoon before going to press a few extra kisses onto Seokjin’s neck and Hoseok’s jaw. The two don’t really object to the kisses, but Jimin’s wiggling his eyebrows at their lovers.  

“Wow, Seokjin- hyung, you smell so good,” he muses loudly, holding onto them tight. Hoseok’s thoroughly engrossed in his morning paper, and Seokjin’s too busy plating the food to pay attention to what he’s doing. “And Hobi-hyung’s so soft and comfy.”

Yoongi looks at him unamused. Namjoon rolls his eyes.

“Jimin, get your cute ass out of here,” Tae says, pushing him toward the dining table. “Go set up plates or something.”

Breakfast is lovely with all seven of them here and happy. Seokjin nudges Namjoon’s foot with his and smiles at him across the table. Yoongi’s falling asleep while eating his quiche, and Hoseok is playing sudoku on the paper. The kids are goofing off and yelling, but Namjoon wouldn’t have it any other way.

…

When it happens, it happens without the boom and lightning that Tae had anticipated. It just sort of falls into place that afternoon when the oldest four are out getting groceries and attending to business, and the three of them are resting after spending the whole day out in the pool. Water is clinging to every jut of muscle, every curve of skin, on Jungkook’s near perfect body, and Jimin is looking so pretty laying out in the sun like that. They end up on the cloud couch under the huge backyard pavilion before none of them can contain themselves anymore.

Tae kisses them both, hands gripping warm flesh and wet hair. Jungkook is pushed against the cushions, slightly overwhelmed by his two experienced lovers. Jimin kisses down the boy’s jaw and neck, grinning when Jungkook starts moaning. It happens, and Tae can’t help arching his back when Jungkook finally, finally breaches his entrance. And Jimin wraps his lips around Taehyung and uses his tongue so well. The afternoon sun is warm on their damp skin, and Tae is crying out both their names to the early spring breeze. Jungkook’s stamina is amazing, and after they’re done laughing about it, he fucks Jimin into the couch so good they’re all breathless.

Then Tae climbs over Jimin and gently makes love to him, sweetly and completely different from Jungkook. Jungkook’s chest is heaving from having both of them, and he watches, eyes hooded with lust and full of love. Tae kisses him as he moves inside Jimin until Jimin is complaining and pulling them both down for “kissies”. After that, they’re stumbling in and out of the shower, giggly and clingy. When they finish and dry off, still locking lips and leaving hickeys, the eldest four come home, just as happy. Seokjin and Hoseok eye them curiously, before realization crash over them and Yoongi and Namjoon are groaning. Tae’s smiling his boxy grin so wide it physically hurts, and Jungkook is blushing though his whole body. Jimin just giggles into his hand and lets them bicker.

…

It’s supposed to be a vacation of sorts, but Yoongi is still glued to his phone, talking to suppliers and business partners alike. Hoseok supposes it is pretty easy to forget what the man does for a living when he’s always sleeping like a kitten and smiling all gummy and wide. For the nth time today, Yoongi’s phone starts ringing while they’re laying the sun, watching the younger ones run around outside. He shoots Hoseok an apologetic look and goes inside the estate to take the call. Hoseok picks at the grass under the blanket he’s perched on, mind wandering off again. Jiwoo would like it here, his parents would like it here. He misses his old life in Gwangju, when his parents were still alive and well and his sister was still healthy.

“Hobi,” Seokjin’s voice cuts through his thoughts. The man’s looking at him, concerned and loving. He stretches out his arm. “Come here, love.”

Hoseok goes to him, letting Seokjin wrap him in a warm embrace. Seokjin smells so fucking good it’s not even possible, and Hoseok literally melts against him.

“Are you ok?” Seokjin asks, always considerate and understanding.

Hoseok nods and turns to beam at him, heart so full with love for this hyung of his.

“I’m good, Jinnie. I really am,” he says and leans in to kiss him softly. “Because of you.”

Seokjin blushes, getting all shy and flustered as Hoseok continues kissing him. They don’t even realize anyone’s watching until Yoongi whistles low and loud, standing there with his phone slack in his hands. They break apart, looking around. All of them are watching.

“Why’d you stop? It was cute,” Yoongi says, smiling all soft.

“You guys don’t want us to stop?” Hoseok asks, glancing between Namjoon and Yoongi as if asking for permission.

Namjoon shakes his head at once. His round, innocent eyes are way too kind.

“You guys seek each for comfort and affection, right? We don’t mind, and it’s not our place to tell you to stop in the first place,” he reasons. “Whatever makes you happy, go ahead and do it.”

Tae and Jimin turn to Jungkook. The boy blinks blankly at them.

“This is fine. You guys are fine. I don’t mind,” Jungkook says.

Seokjin smiles and reaches out for all of them. They come, and it’s the start of something none of them can quite name.

…

When Jimin goes to end his contract with the sugar daddy, it’s not a pretty talk. The man is convinced that Jimin is with someone else, so Jimin lays it on him.

“That college kid you were so convinced it was- it is him,” he yells, totally losing his temper. The man looks stunned. “Do you know how good he fucks me? How he gets me off? You selfish piece of shit!”

The man retaliates, calling Jimin a good for nothing whore, and Jimin can’t take it anymore.

“I’m ending the contract. You haven’t paid me in a month anyways!”

“You’re just going to walk away? Do you know how much money I invested in you?”

Jimin grits his teeth. “That’s all you ever think about. Money. I meant nothing to you, right? I’m just another escort to you?”

The man laughs. “Jimin, you’re always dreaming like you’re in another world. This is reality . How could you ever be important to me?”

Holding back tears, Jimin turns away, storming out of the house. Rain is pouring from the sky, and the man catches up to him at the driveway and grabs his wrist, both of them soaking wet.

“Hold on,” he says, panting because he had chased Jimin down. “Don’t go.”

“Why the hell not?” Jimin snarls, blinking rain out of his eyes.

“Jiminie.” The man leans in to whisper in his ear, hand moving down to cup Jimin’s ass. “You’ll miss me. You still remember our first time, right? We have our disputes, but when I’m horny, all I think about is your body. I know you’ll miss me.”

Jimin is so humiliated that he pushes the man away as hard as he can.

“Fucking pervert!” He hollers, throwing the Audi keys in his face. “Don’t you ever touch me again!”

The man grits his teeth, feeling the cut on his forehead. “Goddammit, you crazy bitch.”

Just as he takes a step closer to Jimin, the boy throws (with all his goddamn strength) his Louboutins at him.

“If you even think about touching me, Min Yoongi is going to gut you in your sleep!”

That stops the man. He narrows his eyes and glares hard.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“ Min Yoongi . Will. Gut. You,” Jimin repeats, as venomous as he can bluff. “Who do you think I’ve been living with for the past month? My lover, me, Yoongi’s lovers, we all belong to him now. You touch me again, and you’re a dead man.”

Jimin leaves, for the last time, and the man is too scared to follow. Three hours later, he gets back to the estate, barefoot and soaked in rain. Seokjin (worried to death probably) rushes to him, wrapping a fluffy towel around his shoulders and rubbing him down to warm him up. Jungkook and Tae are on him in an instant, kissing and hugging. Jimin starts laughing like crazy because for the first time, he’s fucking free and in love. Namjoon looks at his bare feet with a small smile etched on his lips.

“Well,” he says. “Jimin’s lost it.”

Yoongi hums in agreement, handing them each a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallow. Hoseok pets Jimin’s hair, where the boy is clinging to his chest. They’re gathered around the extravagant fireplace, all of them wrapped around Jimin. Namjoon has an arm slung around Seokjin’s waist, both of them pressed together so adorably. Jungkook has his head in Seokjin’s lap, body spooning Tae.

“Such a shame to lose those custom Louboutins though,” Yoongi remarks, hiding a smirk. “The piece of shit probably can’t even afford to get another pair for his next sugar baby.”

Jimin laughs, clutching Hoseok like a lifeline. The man smells so good, so familiar.

“I should have dumped his ass a long time ago.”

“Hell yeah, you should have,” Jungkook pipes up. “Yoongi will buy you all the shoes you want.”

Namjoon nods. “He will.”

Yoongi’s nodding before he even processes what they’re saying. “I totally will. Wait- hold on.”

Seokjin laughs, laying a warm hand on Yoongi’s thigh; the man always blushes when Seokjin touches him.

“But seriously, Jimin, how do you feel?” Seokjin asks. He figures he has to be the one to.

The boy looks up at him, puffy lips smeared with the melting marshmallow. He grins, suddenly, cute and bright.

“I feel great,” he admits. “Really great. No one owns me anymore. It’s… new.”

Tae sighs contently and sits up to kiss the marshmallow away, and Yoongi finally reveals his gummy smile.

“Good. That’s real good,” he says. “No one will ever own you again.”

“Thank you, Yoongi. I don’t know how you do it,” Jimin says, reaching for one of his hands.

“It’s not a big deal,” Yoongi says, brushing them off. He looks rather smug, however. “I just want to help.”

“You’ve done more than that, baby,” Hoseok says, eyes shining. He leans in to kiss the man, and Yoongi is immediately facing him, cupping his head.

“All that’s left is Junseo,” Namjoon says, rubbing Seokjin’s back soothingly.

“I say we get rid of him tomorrow.” Jungkook blurts, looking up at Seokjin’s pretty face. “We already know he prostitutes kids and runs an underground brothel. If he goes to the police about us, we have his business on the line, too.”

“Life on the line, you mean,” Yoongi says. His expression turns real serious. “If we’re talking getting rid of him for good, we’re talking murder. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. I want him dead.”

Jungkook nods. “Ok. I’m down.”

“I’m down, too,” Tae says.

“Me too.” Hoseok.

“Yeah, let’s murder him.” Jimin.

Namjoon looks at them looking at him. “Dude. I told you I was down since the beginning.”

Everyone turns to Seokjin, who has steel in his eyes. 14 years of sexual and physical abuse reflect in his eyes.

“How are we gonna do it?”

…

Junseo isn’t hard to track down. His men are real easy to persuade and confess, especially when Namjoon learned some persuasion techniques that their old boss had taught him. Yoongi doesn’t even have to raise a finger before his men have Junseo on his knees, bruised and a little beat, in front of the seven of them. Hoseok and Seokjin can still leave anytime they want, but one look at them and Yoongi can see the rage burning them alive.

“Did you plan this from the start, Min Yoongi?” Junseo laughs. “Take my whores and make them yours?”

Yoongi just looks at him with a faint smile on his lips. Today, he’s dressed himself up all nice, like he’s going to a syndicate ball- gold embroidered black silk robe, shiny rings, the most expensive shoes he owns. All of them, standing behind him, are dressed just as well. Namjoon is dressed up for once, and Yoongi can see Junseo eyeing him like he’s never seen him before. It’s a show, he supposes; they will be the last ones Junseo will ever see, might as well make it a show. The man sneers at Seokjin, who’s standing to the left of Yoongi, chin up and totally different without fear of any contract binding him.

“Jin,” Junseo says, the escort name making Seokjin flinch just a bit. “Don’t tell me you fell for his lies? You really think he’d want something as damaged as you?”

“Shut up,” Jungkook snarls, the mask on his face perfectly in place. Yoongi is little bit impressed by the kid. “You don’t get to talk to him.”

Yoongi lays a hand on Seokjin’s waist, supporting him.

“Seokjin, how old were you when you were sold into the business?” Yoongi asks, eyes still burning into Junseo.

“Eight.”

“Eight,” Yoongi repeats. “And your parents sold you?”

“I don’t know,” Seokjin says. “All I know is that there was a contract.”

Yoongi nods. “Have you ever seen this contract, Seokjin?”

“No, I haven’t.”

Yoongi nods again and turns to Junseo.

“How many other kids did you kidnap and pimp out like you did Seokjin?”

Junseo smirks at him.

“What are you talking about?”

Yoongi sighs.

“Do I really have to repeat myself?” When Junseo keeps looking at him mockingly, Yoongi holds out his hand. Namjoon hands him a pretty looking gun. It’s made of mother of pearl and inlaid with gold. “Let’s try this again. How many kids are you selling under a non-existent contract?”

He says it through gritted teeth, casually loading up the gun with ammo.

“There aren’t any others.”

Yoongi stops, so close to laughing in his face. The fucker’s caught and still lying through his teeth.

“That’s real funny because my man here tells me that there are precisely nine others in Seokjin’s position.” Yoongi sits up. “Are you saying Namjoon is lying?”

Junseo shrugs.

“He must be becau-!”

The bullet goes straight through Junseo’s shoulder, and the man falls over with a scream. Yoongi lowers the gun. Junseo looks wildly at him.

“You crazy fucker! Do you know who I am?” he hollers.

Yoongi narrows his eyes and leans in.

“Do you know who I am, you pathetic piece of shit ?” Yoongi takes the file from the little table, opens it, and throws it at Junseo’s knees. It’s a collection of names and pictures of little girls and boys. A picture of five year old Kim Seokjin smiles up at the man. “Ten innocent children, kidnapped and forced to sell their bodies on the pretense of a contract. How do you think your business partners are going to think about this? Much less the public?”

Junseo stares at the pictures, still curled in on his bleeding shoulder. There’s a look of utter disbelief on his face.

“An arrogant pig like you surely didn’t think you could hide this forever,” Yoongi continues.

“So, what? Why’d you bring me here? What do you want me to do?” Junseo snarls.

“Oh, I don’t want you to do anything. What can a lowlife like you do?” Another wave of his hand and Yoongi’s men are setting out knives and needles and every painful looking device there is. Junseo’s eyes grown round with terror. “I heard you like to humiliate people. Choke them, drug them, hit them. Namjoon, what else did he like?”

Namjoon looks positively ice cold. That’s another thing the old boss praised about him. “Piercings and branding.”

“Ah, right. Those are the fun two.”

Junseo stutters, mouth opening to protest, but Yoongi doesn’t let him get very far.

“Don’t fucking beg. You don’t deserve mercy.” He turns to his men. “Undress him. I want him tied down.”

The man puts up quite a fight, but Yoongi’s humming as he picks out a terrifyingly large needle. Namjoon’s rolling up his sleeves as well, while the others stay where they are, eyes glued to the scene. When Junseo’s restrained and unable to move, Yoongi holds up tongue clamps. He smiles as wickedly as he can. Junseo’s begging.

“I heard you did this to my boy when he was 15. I want to gift you with the same opportunity to try it,” he says sweetly before he pries open the man’s mouth.

…

“Tell me the worst thing he’s ever done to you.”

They have Hoseok and Seokjin in his office, sitting across from him at his desk. Seokjin starts wringing his hands, brows furrowed. Hoseok’s eyes fall to the floor and stay there, and Yoongi can feel his heart sliding up into his throat, suffocating him. Namjoon clenches his hands, feeling a rush of fear and anger and total helplessness. Seokjin speaks first, trying to keep his tone casual.

“Well, besides raping me and putting me on the streets when I was 12, I guess drugging me for clients is pretty shitty,” he says. Hoseok gasps and grabs his hands, just as Tae and Jimin rush to him. Seokjin purses his lips. “And you know about the words on my leg.”

Yoongi nods and reaches over to take one of his warm hands, holding it with both of his. Seokjin smiles, tired and hallowed out.

“Hoseok?” Namjoon asks softly. “Do you feel comfortable sharing with us?”

The man’s quiet for a beat, head hung low, bangs hiding his eyes.

“I signed the contract with him when I was 15. He forced me to get a tongue piercing.” He has to stop and take a deep breath. “He drugged me, but only to paralyze me, and did it himself.”

Seokjin remembers being there; he remembers hearing Hoseok screaming in the room besides his, while a client held Seokjin’s legs apart. Yoongi’s grip on both of them tightens painfully.

“Two months of absolute hell until the infection and piercing healed.”

Jungkook looks livid with rage, hands trembling as he grips the edge of Yoongi’s mahogany desk so hard his knuckles turn white.

The next day, when Yoongi asks them who would like to accompany him to make Junseo pay, all of them get up, eyes set and calm. Jungkook knows the Pig is fucked.

…

When he’s done with Junseo, Yoongi steps back and observes his handiwork. Etched into the skin of the man’s chest are the bloody words “ piece of shit rapist, sadist, and sick fuck ”.

“There,” Yoongi says, smiling. “Didn’t you like branding people?”

Namjoon and Jungkook are beside him the whole time, never flinching and never looking away. Taehyung and Jimin are further away, both of them slightly queasy at the sight of such grotesque torture. Seokjin and Hoseok, on the other hand, look on with blank expressions, seeing everything with neutrality and never turning away once. Yoongi wonders if he’s going too far until he remembers that this fucker sexually assaulted Seokjin everyday since he was 12 and beat Hoseok whenever he felt like it. The thought alone is enough to bring fire into his veins and red to his eyes.

“I think that’s enough,” he says and turns to nod at Namjoon. “Joon, gut him. Like he threatened to do you. We’ll leave his eyes, though.”

Junseo is already muted by enough ketamine to keep him from moving or speaking, though he’s completely aware of the pain and fear. Not that he can talk anyways, with that needle through his tongue. Yoongi thinks it’s perfect retribution for what’s he’s done to his boys.

They leave the body for Junseo’s men to find. There’s a file of all the pictures and notes, all copies of course, on the ground next to the corpse, just so the men know not to retaliate. When they’re outside the warehouse and in the cool night air, Yoongi holds his arms out for Hoseok and Seokjin, the unspoken question of are you alright lingering between them. They go to him, gripping his blood caked hands and pulling him in. Yoongi kisses both of them, relishing the feeling of their bodies against his ( hush, don’t cry. You’re safe he whispers to Seokjin). Hoseok doesn’t cry, but he’s trembling harder than Seokjin. Namjoon joins them, wrapping strong warm arms around all three of them. Seokjin lets go of Yoongi with one hand to grip Namjoon as close as he can. The blood splatters on their clothes are ignored. Somewhere behind them, Yoongi can hear Jungkook chidding Tae and Jimin, kissing and holding them.

When they get home, they seperate to their owns rooms to clean up. An hour after Seokjin excuses himself, Namjoon finds him curled up under the scalding hot spray of water, sobbing. He turns off the water and kneels beside Seokjin, talking in a soft voice to try and calm him down ( I love you, Seokjin, please don’t cry ). He lays his hand on Seokjin gingerly, exhaling in relief when the man doesn’t pull away. Namjoon gets a hold around Seokjin’s waist and helps them both up. Seokjin curls around him, easily letting himself be led. A few kisses later, Namjoon helps him slip into a hot bath that smells like jasmine. Seokjin wipes his face, eyes rimmed with red and nose irritated from rubbing too much. Namjoon loves him so much it hurts, and Seokjin looks at him like he’s all he needs.

Across the hall, Hoseok and Yoongi quietly strip and step into the shower stall together. The bathroom lights are off, and they only have memory and the moonlight coming through the large window to guide them. Their hands and bodies tangle together, and Yoongi’s holding his boy close. Warm water falls over them, washing away the blood, sweat, and tears. Hoseok doesn’t make a sound as he cries, but Yoongi knows, and he holds him gently.

“I love you,” Hoseok says, voice cracking. “I love you.”

Yoongi kisses him. “I love you more, Hoseok. I’ve got you.”

Jungkook, Tae, and Jimin shower quickly together, no words passing between them once. Jimin is still a little pale, a little shaky, but Jungkook kisses his forehead and cradles him in his arms. When they’re done, they quietly make their way out of the room and towards Seokjin and Namjoon’s, their bare feet padding softly on the hardwood floor. They don’t even have to knock before Seokjin swings open the door and sweeps all three of them off their feet in a bearhug.

“My little loves,” he says, eyes full of tears and adoration. Jungkook is dizzy with the scent of him, all gentle and welcoming. Tae kisses Seokjin before he starts crying again and pulls them all inside. Jungkook goes to find Hoseok and Yoongi, who meet him midway. Yoongi slips his free arm around Jungkook’s waist and holds both his boys to Seokjin’s room.

That night is quiet and familiar, the whispers passing between them on the bed are promises of a better life, of unconditional love, of total belonging. Jungkook has Hoseok in his arms, his hands linked with Namjoon and Seokjin. Behind him, Yoongi’s back presses against his as the older holds Seokjin with all that he has. Namjoon’s hugging Jimin, and Tae is somewhere draped all over them. It’s the most intimate thing Jungkook’s ever experienced, and it’s insane how close all seven of them have become. In the back of his mind, he’s absolutely sure he’s in love with all of them, each and every fucking one of them.

Right before sleep blankets them like a cloud, Yoongi’s muttering into Seokjin’s hair.

“I’ll take care of you all. I promised that once, and I’m promising that now.” He sits up just a bit so he can look at all of them. His eyes pass over each of his kids. Hoseok’s smiling at him like that and it’s enough to make him see stars. “You never have to work another day in your life again. You can lean on me now.”

He gets a chorus of wet sniffles and “I love you’s”, and it’s enough to calm the raging storm of emotions in his chest. Sleep envelopes them.

…

Time passes. They live in another place now. Another home. Another city. They’ve grown. Seokjin has faint smile lines and Jungkook’s all too proud of his facial hair ( it’s barely noticeable , says Yoongi. Jungkook throws a fit). Jimin’s jaw has sharpened with age; Tae hits another growth spurt. Time passes, but they’ve still got each other.

Seokjin still wakes them up in the mornings with his lovely, open mouth kisses. Jungkook sometimes holds him there, not letting him get away, and Seokjin laughs into his mouth.

Yoongi still stays in his office late into the night, still eats those sickly sweet plum candies. They always drag him out of there with bribes of fine wine and roamy hands.

Hoseok still cries about Jiwoo sometimes. They pull him in close and smother him with kisses.

Namjoon still looks at Seokjin like he’s the galaxy and all the things in between even if they both know they belong to each other wholly now.

Jimin still likes collecting nice things; Yoongi spoils him a little too much. He buys Jimin a pair of shoes that are so expensive that Namjoon almost faints.

Tae still wears fucking beanies over his damp hair, still eats food hidden in his jackets.

Jungkook still drinks his god awful gourmet banana milk and paints them like they’re angels.

The only new addition in their little family is intimacy, profound romantic intimacy. Sometimes, Jungkook crawls into Yoongi’s lap and sits there, soaking up the man’s body heat. Seokjin and Tae share some of the sweetest moments, lips locked and asleep in bed. In the mornings, Hoseok and Namjoon wake up together, smiles on their faces before they even realize. And Jimin, the butterfly, flits between each of them, sometimes pulling Yoongi into a hard kiss or stealing Seokjin away into his bedroom.

Time passes, but their love remains. One day, Seokjin wakes and realizes that that place doesn’t define him anymore. The Caveau des Innocents was demolished years ago, and even though those neon green lights still appear whenever Seokjin shuts his eyes, it’s all in the past.

They’re at a renowned art gallery, fancy champagne in their hands, staring at the series of portraits that had garnered Jungkook worldwide fame. “The Innocents”, he titled them. They stare back at Seokjin in the form of brilliant red haired Taehyung dancing among diamonds, silver haired Jimin beaming up at the viewer (like the first time he met Jungkook at the party), blond haired Hoseok drenched in green light with angel wings attached to his back, and Seokjin hiding behind billowing white curtains, a smile soft on his lips. “The Innocents” are obscene, dirty, raw, but true and gorgeous and ethereal. Tae (his hair isn’t red anymore) looks like he might just cry again, and Jimin is holding Jungkook as hard as he can. Yoongi is quiet, a small smile curling up the corners of his mouth. Namjoon takes his hand and brings Seokjin’s knuckles to his lips. On his other side, Hoseok wraps an arm around his waist.

“It’s over, Jinnie, we won,” he says, eyes glued to the portraits. “It’s over.”

Somewhere down the line, they look back and laugh because, despite all expectations, they broke all the rules and came out just fine on the other side.