Here is part three of Of Men and Sin - Hoseok’s chapter! You don’t have to read them in order, but it does help some with the characterization of the rest of BTS. P.S. I am so sorry Hobi stans…
Devil’s Shot (Jin) | Shanghai (Jimin)
Disclaimer: I do not know BTS personally, nor do I believe they are as I portray them. I am simply using them as characters in a plot of my own.
Requested: No
Word Count: 1,812
Trigger Warning: Drug use and mention, gun violence
It was that time of the night that was either impossibly late or impossibly early. Hoseok lay tangled in his bedsheets, cool sweat soaking his brow. He awoke with a gasp, shooting straight up in bed before rubbing his hands over his eyes to rid them of the moisture that had collected there. He had dreamed of her again.
Because of his dream, the perspiration on his skin, and the subtle trembling of his hands, he figured it was time for another dose. He threw the sheets off himself, uncaring of the mess he had just created on his floor, and crossed to his desk, the only occupant of which was a sleek silver case. With the ease and familiarity of a comfortable routine, Hoseok unclasped the two clasps to reveal the padded foam interior.
The first thing he did was grab the tourniquet, the thin piece of rubber a comforting pinch against his skin that helped to steady his shaking hands. Next was the removal of a syringe from its neat plastic packaging, checking the plunger, vial, and needle for bends, cracks, and air bubbles. The tip of the needle was then plunged into the top of a clear bottle, the plunger pulled back until a little past the 15cc mark as a clear liquid filled the syringe. Hoseok depressed the plunger just enough to clear any air out of the syringe, setting down the shot before grabbing an alcohol swab to clean the inside bend of his left arm, just below the tourniquet. He felt for a vein that had not already collapsed, uncaring of the track marks littering his arm. Finding a vein, he picked up his syringe, jabbed it into his arm rather forcefully, and depressed the plunger.
The rush hit him almost immediately. He could feel the morphine singing in his veins, numbing him to all his pain, clearing his mind so that he wasn’t able to think of anything past the blissful nothing the drug provided.
“Hoseok, we need to talk about this.”
The voice, low and gravelly with sleep sounded from his doorway, causing Hoseok to hastily shut the lid of the case and push it behind his back as he turned, pupils blown wide, to stare at the silver haired man.
“Yoongi, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.” He smiled a smile as radiant as the sun to accompany his words.
“That’s bullshit and you know it. Look, I know that losing Jia was hard –“
“Don’t say her name. You don’t deserve to say her name after you let her die.”
Yoongi sighed.
“If blaming me for her death makes you feel better Hoseok, then by all means do it. I think you and I both know what really happened though. Regardless, would she want to see you like this? Doping yourself up and floating through life?”
Hoseok didn’t like Yoongi’s words. They were slowly perforating the carefree bubble he had been surrounding himself with since her – Jia’s – death.
Yoongi began to speak again, noticing that his friend was listening, but had no intentions of responding.
“Look, I’m here on business for Namjoon, ok? He needs you to go pick up the goods your kind of goods, from the wharf. He said and I quote ‘Don’t fuck this up Hoseok or I’ll put you on the worst detox you’ve ever seen – quitting cold turkey.’ He also wanted me to give you this, against my better judgement might I add, in case there is trouble.” Yoongi threw a Sig Sauer 380 onto Hoseok’s bed, accompanied by two extra empty magazines and a pack of 120 9mm short bullets.
“The magazine in the gun is loaded, because the damn slide won’t release unless there’s a loaded magazine in the gun, but you have to fill up your extras on your own. I’m not your fucking mom, and you’re a fucking grown-up, even if you aren’t acting like one. Just be careful, yeah? Maybe wait a couple of hours for the morphine to wear off?”
“Go fuck yourself Yoongi.”
“Good luck, and be careful Hoseok.”
Yoongi left his room, and Hoseok began the tedious task of loading the bullets (hollow point, he idly noticed) into the extra magazines. Including the magazine in the chamber, Hoseok had 45 bullets, more than enough for any shit that should go down at the wharf.
//
The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon when Hoseok’s standard issue black sedan crunched over the gravel in the parking lot of the warehouse where the deal was to take place. He looked remarkably better than he had earlier in the morning, now freshly showered and dressed in a suit, Sig Sauer holstered at the small of his back, and a shiny black briefcase holding the payment for the deal clasped in his left hand.
Another inconspicuous sedan and two large SUV’s were already parked in the lot, meaning Hoseok was late for his meeting, not that he really gave a damn. He strolled over to the door of the warehouse, rolling it open with a practiced ease and stepped into the room.
The lights burned bright, and the man that he was here to see, Lee, was leaning against the front of a steel table, one of probably thirty on the main floor of the warehouse.
“Hoseok, I didn’t think you were going to make it!”
“Ah, well, I had a hard time getting out of bed this morning, just one of those days, you know?”
“Nightmares about Jia? Again? I’m worried man.”
Hoseok’s lips pressed into a line as he silently cursed Lee for bringing her up again. He had thought about her more today than the past six months since her death.
“I’m fine Lee, do you have the goods?”
“You know I do. Here, inspect it yourself.” With that, Lee motioned to one of his men who then brought forward a heavy black briefcase and set it on the table.
Hoseok crossed to the table and slid back the locks on the case. He grasped the lid and opened it to find it empty.
“Lee, what the fu-”
Hoseok turned and met the muzzle of a gun pointed right at his face.
“Sorry to do this Hoseok, but BTS is not in the place it once was in the world. You know how it goes, weakness has to be eliminated.
“Yeah, I know how it goes Lee.”
Hoseok’s acquaintance grimaced as he began to pull the trigger, but Hoseok was faster. He ducked and swung a leg out, knocking Lee to the ground, and drawing his gun from under his suit jacket. Lee lay stunned on the ground, probably counting on Hoseok being doped up on morphine and being rather surprised with how lucid he was.
Wasting no time, Hoseok pressed his gun to Lee’s temple and fired. The hole entering his skull was much smaller than the exit hole, and Hoseok idly remembered that he had hollow point bullets. He was brought out of his own little world by a burning pain in his left arm. He had been shot.
Hoseok looked up and noticed the hired muscle that had been around the room, half his and half Lee’s were firing at each other, and Hoseok realized he had to get out of here and warn the others. He figured that standing would be the worst possible plan so he crouched low to the ground, ignoring the burning in his arm, and half crawled, half shuffled towards the warehouse door. He hid under the steel tables whenever possible, conscientious of the gunfire happening above him. Some may say it was the coward’s way out, but Hoseok firmly believed in being alive to warn Namjoon and the others. He was grateful for the morphine he had taken this morning, as it was probably one of the only reasons he was as calm as he was.
He made it to the front of the warehouse and groaned as he saw two men shooting at each other from behind overturned tables right in front of the door. Hoseok didn’t have time for this shit. From his position behind a third table, he targeted the man closest to him and shot him the next time he came up to shoot at the other person.
Hoseok hissed as the slide from the Sig rammed back into his thumb joint, cursing Yoongi for giving him a gun with a bitch of a recoil. However, now was no time to dwell on his pain, as the other gunman popped his head over the table and Hoseok shot him with sniper-like precision. Lumbering to his feet, Hoseok made a break for the door, sliding it open and removing the keys for his car from his pants pocket as he ran across the gravel. On his way, he noticed the other SUVs, and not wanting to be followed, he spared a moment to shoot the tires of each one. He made it to his sedan and fumbled with the fob to unlock his car before sliding into the black leather interior, hissing as his injured arm was hit by the door slamming shut. Hoseok rammed the keys into the ignition, and threw the car in reverse before speeding out of the parking lot, gravel flying in the car’s wake.
It wasn’t until he was on the interstate and was sure that he wasn’t going to be followed that he pulled out his phone from his breast pocket and dialed the number he knew by heart.
“Hoseok I swear to God if you fucked up this deal - “
“Namjoon, we have a problem. The deal was a setup. Lee was sent to kill me. He said BTS wasn’t in the place it once was. I’m coming in. No one is following me, but I’ve been shot.”
“Son of a - Shit. Are you ok, Hoseok?”
“Ask me again in a few hours, I think I’m in shock right now.”
“Damn, I never thought that I would be grateful for you taking morphine, but now…. Hoseok, get back here safely. That is an order. Do you understand? We’ll discuss everything else when you’ve been treated. Did the bullet go straight through?”
“Yeah, I think it did. My arm hurts like a bitch, but I’m almost back now. And Namjoon? Lee knew about the morphine. You know what this means.”
“Yeah, shit. It means we have a mole.”
“I’ll be there in 10, Namjoon.”
Hoseok hung up the phone, thankful for the leftover vestiges of the morphine and the rush of adrenaline still flooding his veins allowing him to function. The drive was too quiet, and the sun too bright for what had happened this morning. He turned on the radio, snorting at the irony of the song. “Happiness is a warm gun…”
The second part of my mafia au - Of Men and Sin! I really, really love how this au is turning out, parts of it are writing itself, I swear. Please enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not know BTS personally, nor do I believe they are as I portray them. I am simply using them as characters in a plot of my own.
Requested: No
Word Count: 1,941
Trigger Warning: Mentions of male x male rape, prostitution
Devil’s Shot (Jin) | Rush (Hoseok)
The quiet roar of the bar faded in and out of focus as Park Jimin swirled his whiskey in his glass. He stared at it, contemplating the evening’s plans. He acted oblivious to the attention he received, women staring at his dark red windswept hair and black on black ensemble. Jimin knew he looked good in black, his golden skin and ruby hair set off nicely by the color. His ensemble did the double duty of not only looking good, but allowing him to blend in with the crowd as well. Keeping his head down, his gaze flitted from side to side, surveying the bar and looking for just the right - ah - there she was.
The girl was probably in her early twenties, if he had to guess. Short, or at least shorter than him, chocolate colored hair curled haphazardly around a heart shaped face. Her eyes were lined with kohl, but also rimmed with red, a clear indicator that she had been crying. She was drinking with the kind of desperation that came only with heartbreak, inhaling shot after shot and showing no signs of slowing down. A more thorough examination revealed no one at the bar with her, and by the way her focus was only on the bartender, Jimin guessed that she had come here alone.
He straightened and watched as a man approached her and tried to strike up a conversation. The woman studiously ignored him until he put a hand on her arm, presumably asking to buy her a drink. She ripped her arm from his grasp and slapped him across the face, the bartender hurrying across to break up what could be a fight before it began. The man seemed to leave the woman with a few choice words and then stalked off. Jimin smirked as he decided that now was a good time to put his plan in motion.
He stood from his bar stool and pulled his phone from his pocket. He began to dial a number, and pressed the phone to his ear, walking towards the girl on the stool as he began to speak into the receiver.
“Jagi? It’s me. Where are you? You said you would be here an hour ago? What? What do you mean you can’t make it? We’ve had these plans for months! It’s our anniversary! What are you saying? Just say what you mean stop giving me excuses! You’re breaking up with me? After three years? W - Why? No, don’t tell me. I don’t care. It’s over. Goodbye.”
With his final exclamation, Jimin shut his phone off and let his head hang, red bangs obscuring his eyes. He flopped onto the stool next to the curly haired brunette, turned to the bartender, and ordered a whiskey on the rocks. He kept his head down, reaching his hand up to brush his eyes every so often and giving a sniffle here and there. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the brunette looking over at him and worrying her lip between her teeth. He inwardly smirked, this job was going to be easier than he thought.
The girl looked at the man sitting next to her and couldn’t help but think that he was beautiful.
“Excuse me, sir, I couldn’t help but to overhear your conversation a few minutes ago, and I was just wondering, are you ok?”
The man lifted his head, and the woman couldn’t help but suck in a gasp of air. Even with red rimmed eyes and a puffy face, he was perhaps the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
“I - I, well, to be completely honest, no, I’m not ok. But, shouldn’t I be asking you that? A beautiful girl like you all alone at a bar… You could be hurt or taken advantage of, you know?”
The girl blushed, taken aback by his genuine concern. He was so sweet.
“Hey, the girl you were on the phone with sounded kinda like a bitch. Oops, I’m sorry, is that too soon or too mean? I’m kinda drunk hah… But, you just seem so nice… I mean, you waited for her for an hour and then you’re sweet enough to be worried about me…”
Jimin blushed at her compliment, his cheeks turning a few shades lighter than his hair.
“Look, I’m really worried about you, can I call your parents or boyfriend or something to come get you?”
“Oh, my parents don’t care where I am. They probably couldn’t care less if I were dead to be completely honest. And well, you could probably tell by my eyes, but i’m newly single.”
“So, there’s really no one to check in on you? That doesn’t seem very safe. And it’s such a shame, you’re so pretty.”
The girl blushed at his compliment, her mind fuzzy with alcohol and drunk off the feeling of being admired by this stranger. This beautiful, newly single stranger.
“Hey, I don’t usually do this, but since we both got dumped tonight, do you want to come back to my place? I think the best revenge would be finding solace in each other, don’t you?”
The girl questioned Jimin with glassy eyes and a smile too big and too bright for the events of the day.
“Well, how about I give you a lift home, and then we’ll see where it goes from there,” Jimin asked.
The girl giggled, “ok, where’s your car?”
“It’s out in the back lot, I’ll go get it if you want to wait at the back door for me?”
“Sure, I’ll see you in a few minutes handsome.”
//
Jimin couldn’t believe his luck. Of all the deadbeat bars, he had stumbled upon the perfect one. As he half jogged to his car, a black sedan parked in the back of the lot and hidden in the shadows, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number he knew by heart.
“Namjoon? It’s me. I got one. Pretty, small, brunette, ass like you wouldn’t believe. I’m at the bar off of the river, near the warehouse district. Can you wipe me and the girl from the cameras? Or is that too much effort?”
“Does a fat baby shit? Of fucking course I can wipe you and the chick from security footage. Shit Jimin, I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive.”
“Hyung, you’re only a year older than me… “
“…. While you were doing time between the sheets, I was hacking computers and running an international internet gambling scandal. Who’s the lazy one now?”
Jimin shivered at the uncomfortable reminder of his past.
“Yeah yeah, while I was being fucked by old men for money as a teen you were making money with fake gambling algorithms. I get it, you’re a genius. Just wipe the fucking cameras.”
Jimin hung up the phone before Namjoon could answer him. He slid into the smooth leather interior of his car, standard issue for Bangtan Sonyeondan, shoved the keys into the ignition, and pulled the car around to the back door of the bar. He could just make out the figure of the girl in the little light cast by the dingy light fixture above the door.
He reached over to the passenger side and opened the door for her, surreptitiously hitting the ‘lock’ button on his door as she got into the car.
“Hey, I just realized, I don’t know your name.”
“Have I told you how beautiful you look in that dress?”
Jimin smiled at her and she smiled back, completely forgetting about her question as she basked in the glow of his compliment. It had been so long since her own boyfriend - now ex-boyfriend - had complimented her.
“Is it ok if we go to my place? I know you said you wanted to go back to yours, but mine’s closer, just a few blocks from here, actually.”
“Sure.”
Jimin reached across the girl, grabbing for her seat belt to buckle her in, trailing his hand along her breast as he reached over her. She held his face close and brought his plump lips to hers, reveling in his taste - whiskey and mint. Jimin smiled as he pulled away from her, realizing he wasn’t even going to need the little syringe secreted away in his glove compartment to make her come with him.
Jimin drove along the river, staying in the warehouse district until he reached one warehouse that was just a little more dingy and dangerous looking than the others.
“This is your apartment?”
“It’s not so bad on the inside, I promise.”
He grinned, a truly heart stopping grin that had his eyes crinkling into little crescent moons. He got out of the car first and walked around to open her car door for her. He offered his arm to help her out, and supported most of her weight as they drunkenly stumbled towards the door. Jimin knocked on the door, a complicated series of short and long raps, and the door slid open.
The girl looked around in the dim light of the entry way, noticing scantily clad women leaning against open doorways, moans and other noises she chose not to think about coming from behind closed doors.
“Hey, where are we? This doesn’t look anything like an apartment.”
“Well babe, it’s your home now.”
With those chilling words, Jimin shook her off his arm and pushed her towards a man that was coming out of one of the previously closed doorways, tucking a soiled shirt into loose, stained jeans.
“Woah Jimin, you got a real pretty one this time. Money wired to the usual account?”
“Wait, what? Money? Account? What the fuck is going on here?”
“Hahaha, damn Jimin, you shanghaied her good. Dumb bitch doesn’t even know a brothel when she sees one.”
The girl started sobbing, turning back to look at Jimin.
“Please, don’t let him take me. You said you wanted to look after me, make sure I made it home ok, well, THIS IS NOT OK.”
All vestiges of kindness were gone from his eyes, his face hardened in the dim light of the brothel.
“It wasn’t ok when I was sold into prostitution at the age of 12 either, but cheer up buttercup, I got out, maybe you will too. Or maybe not. I can’t say that I really care.” He turned his attention to the man holding the woman’s arm as she stared at him shell shocked. “Yeah, send it to the usual account. I’ll be by next week with the new girl. Could you at least try not to go through them so fast? Not all of them are as easy to get as this bitch was.”
Jimin turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him on the screams of the woman he had abducted, screams that echoed noisily in the chambers of his memory. He pulled out his phone again as he slid behind the wheel of the car, dialing Namjoon once more.
“The package was delivered. Damnit Namjoon, you don’t pay me enough. I need a vacation.”
“Yeah, and I need a nice piece of ass with tits made of gold. You can want in one hand and piss in the other and see which one fills up faster, Jimin.”
“Love you too, Namjoon. See you in a bit, I’m headed in.”
Jimin hung up the phone and tossed it on the seat next to him, turning up the radio and singing along to the rather ironic song that was playing - “he met marmalade down in old moulin rouge.”
Hello friends! Admin M here and results are in! It was a unanimous vote for Dark Creatures - Jungkook. Get excited, cause I know I am. Also, as a surprise bonus, Admin S is working on Dark Creatures - Taehyung and omg, it’s gonna be so good. Be on the lookout for these in the next few days!
Ok guys, this is Admin M, and since I’m on spring break I’m trying to do a fair amount of writing (maybe you noticed the Jin Mafia AU I put out earlier?) BUT, I want to give you guys some input into what I write sooo, please send in your vote for if I should work on: Jimin’s one-shot in the Mafia AU OR Admin S and I’s new collaborative Dark Creatures AU with Jungkook’s creature. I’ll let voting go until 1:00 a.m. Eastern time. Feel free to ask any questions! Or just stop by and say hi! I promise all of us admins are nice and giant dorks, haha.
Admin M here. I’m sorry I suck and this is a week late. But, midterms, internship apps, three choir concerts, writers block, and the cold from hell have all held me back, so I kinda have an excuse. But please enjoy and I’m sorry!
------
Jinyoung sighed. What did he do to deserve this? The poor kid, Jimin, that Youngjae had been giving bad advice to all night had just gotten the shit slapped out of him by some girl.
“I told you Youngjae gives shit advice.”
Jimin’s eyes were watering from the force of the slap, and his poor drunk brain just couldn’t handle all the stress. He began to cry.
Jinyoung freaked out. He didn’t know how to deal with crying people at all.
“Kid, stop crying. Please. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen and get some ice for your face.”
Jinyoung gently guided Jimin with a hand at the small of his back to the kitchen, where he left him at the doorway while he walked over to the freezer to look for some ice, or frozen peas or something.
Jimin had stopped crying by this point, and glanced around the kitchen. His gaze fell upon his lilac haired friend who was currently engrossed in conversation with someone by the beer pong table. Wait. Oh hell no. He was talking to Youngjae. Jimin wasn’t going to let his best friend get hurt the same way he had been.
He grabbed a nearby shot from the kitchen counter, chugged it (oh god, it tasted like tequila), and strode over to Taehyung and Youngjae. He tapped Youngjae on the shoulder, and as Youngjae turned to face him, Jimin pulled back his fist and let it fly, catching Youngjae on the cheek and causing him to fall onto the beer pong table.
-----
Mark paid little attention to the smaller boy that had slid ungracefully into the tub next to him as he finished the most important thing on his mind at the moment - breaking the seal. He finished up and began washing his hands, sparing a glance at his bathroom companion who was still sitting haphazardly in the tub, clutching his plunger for dear life. Mark shuddered at the thought of where and what that plunger had seen, and tried in vain to repress the thought that it had come in contact with his head, evidenced by the knot that was already forming.
“You- you’re not going back out there, are you?” The boy questioned fearfully.
“Well, yeah, I mean, it’s a party and there’s free booze.”
“But, what about the girls?”
“Look, what’s your name, kid?”
“Jungkook,” he replied.
“Ok, Jungkook, why are you so afraid of girls? Like, it’s not normal. You’re a guy, you have hormones and needs and I just don’t get your aversion to the fairer sex.”
“Well, I - I guess it’s just because they’re so different, you know? Like, they smell all nice, and their hair is so shiny, and their nails are like claws, and they wear these tight tops and short skirts and I just don’t know how to handle how I feel…”
Mark sighed in realization - no one had ever given this kid “the talk,” obviously.
“Look, Jungkook, when a guy gets to be your age, certain things happen in your body that may make you feel strange or different. You may get excited over seeing a girl in a tight dress and notice things happening to your body that don’t normally happen, but it’s totally normal. In fact, girls go through a similar process -”
“Wait, you mean girls have the same, uh, pants situation?”
Mark shifted his weight from one foot to the other, gaze shooting to the ceiling as he wondered how he had gotten himself into this mess and how he definitely wasn’t drunk enough for this.
“Well, I mean, it’s not exactly the same… I just… Look. Suffice it to say that on the inside, girls are just as nervous around you as you are around them.”
“But they seem so confident?”
“And you think you don’t? Look, I promise if you go out there and act like you own the world and no one can take that away from you, act secure in yourself, that they will respect you and maybe even be too intimidated to come talk to you.”
“Really? All I have to do is act swag and they’ll leave me alone?”
“That’s not really what I - you know what, sure, yeah, act swag. So, uh, can I leave the bathroom now? No offense, but this is kinda weird. You should probably leave too. The next person who comes in here may not be so understanding when a kid attacks him with a plunger.” Mark smiled and ruffled Jungkook’s hair before turning around and unlocking the bathroom door. He walked out and glanced back over his shoulder to see Jungkook staring contemplatively at the plunger still clutched in his hands as he sat on the edge of the tub.
-----
After escaping from Namjoon’s misguided attempt to waltz by unceremoniously tripping him and running away, Hoseok tried to figure out what to do about his missing Kookie situation. The situation was not helped at all by his lack of voice. Now he couldn’t even yell his name over the throngs of people inhabiting the party house. Well, I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually… I mean, after all, how much trouble can one kid get in? He’s afraid of girls, so I don’t have to worry about him getting someone pregnant, and there are girls in the kitchen, so he can’t get drunk. He’ll be fine, yeah.
The logic of drunk Hoseok was astounding. After making his way around the many couches in the living room, seriously, who needs all these couches, he noticed that Seokjin had also given up the search for Jungkook and was instead napping on one of the couches. Good for him, Hoseok thought, being the mom of six is hard. He deserves a nap.
Hoseok stumbled into the back of one couch that contained a very disgruntled looking Yoongi, who was apparently being serenaded by an overgrown child playing the ukulele? However, the sweet melody he was playing was suddenly drowned out by Hoseok’s kryptonite – the song Touch My Body by Sistar.
Oh hell yes. This is my jam. Hoseok careened into the middle of the dance floor, and immediately launched into the body wave chorus. When he turned to begin the butt shaking part of the choreography, he noticed a skinny yet well-dressed man also dancing the choreography. He was dancing quite well, actually. Almost too well.
//
Bambam was drunk. And he was loving every minute of it. He loved the way he was moving through the party, seeing it all but feeling apart from it, the room illuminated in a hazy light. Suddenly, he heard his favorite song, Touch My Body begin to play over the speakers and began to dance sloppily to it. As he spun around to begin the butt shaking chorus, he noticed another guy, tall and with dark hair dancing the full choreography as well. Stopping mid-butt shake, Bambam ran over to him and shook his hand.
“Hi, I’m Bambam, do you like Sistar too?”
The man nodded his head vigorously before gesturing between Bambam and himself and then pointing to the speakers and giving a thumbs up.
“What? Can’t you talk?”
The man shook his head and clutched his throat.
“Oh, have you lost your voice?”
The man nodded again and smiled.
“Well, that’s ok, we can still dance together, right?”
The man nodded for a third time, and the two began dancing to EXID’s Up and Down, grinning at each other all the while.
-----
Jackson had been stumbling around the majority of the night trying to find the owner of the single red converse high that he held in his hand. He knew that the owner was probably rather tall, at least based on the size of the shoe. He also knew that the owner of the shoe was probably male, judging by the smell of the shoe. In his inebriated state, he imagined himself to be Prince Charming, seeing he was running around with a shoe, and he was rather charming. However, all the people that he had been comparing the shoe to all evening had had both of their shoes on. He was getting frustrated, unsure as to why his mission was so important to him, but if there was one thing Jackson Wang was not was a quitter.
Suddenly, a large crash could be heard from the direction of the kitchen.
//
Namjoon simply didn’t understand it. He had been so good at the keg stands earlier. Now, he was flat on his back on the cold tile floor of the kitchen, wondering what had happened for him to lose his streak, and just why on earth the ceiling was spinning. At some point in the evening, he had lost one of his converse, which he supposed he should feel bad about considering they were his babies, however, he currently didn’t give two shits. His other shoe was abandoned just within his line of vision, right at the entrance of the kitchen.
//
Making his way towards the crash he had heard, Jackson noticed the mate of the shoe he held in his hand lying in the entrance to the kitchen. He let out a frustrated groan. How am I ever going to find the owner now?? Tons of people are walking around barefoot!
Before his thoughts could progress too much, he saw a man lying on the floor of the kitchen, a man that was barefoot.
“Hey, dude, are these your shoes?” Jackson asked.
The man rolled glassy eyes towards Jackson, and he let out a noncommittal grunt.
“Was that a yes?”
“Why is the room spinning? Am I seeing the actual rotation of the planet on its axis? Is this the true purpose of being drunk?”
“Dude, shoes, are they yours?”
“But am I feeling the planet spinning or am I spinning? No, that doesn’t make sense, I can’t be an immovable object in the center of the universe – “
Frustrated with the drunk man’s rambling, Jackson took it upon himself to simply try the shoes on the man. He unlaced the shoes and slid them on the man’s feet. They were a perfect fit!
“Ah yes! Who’s the best finder in the world? JACKSON!” Jackson stood up and began a drunken happy dance, unaware that the owner of the converse was watching him with a lopsided smile on his face.
-----
Yoongi was convinced that he was in hell. Some giant idiot was lying across his lap, and had knocked his laptop to the floor. The man had also yanked Yoongi’s expensive headphones off of his head, and perhaps the worst sin the man had committed was his absolutely horrible ukulele playing. Yoongi was all for a good ukulele solo, but this bowl haircut boy had absolutely no talent for it. Not to mention, this was taking away from Yoongi’s precious time he had set aside to work on his mix tape.
However, the overgrown child didn’t seem to be going anywhere soon, and unfortunately Yoongi was too small to push him off. Resigning himself to his fate and vowing to murder the other boys once they got home, Yoongi aggressively chugged his drink.
//
Yugyeom was having the time of his life. He just knew, just knew that his future was to go at it as a solo artist playing ukulele. He even already had his first fan. The guy currently sitting under him. Wait until he tells his hyungs. Wait, his hyungs…. He’d have to leave them in order to go at it as a solo artist…
“Hey, I know you’re my fan and all, but can I ask you a question?”
The man paused in the gulping of his drink to give him a look that would have killed a less inebriated man.
“I am not your fan.”
“Great, so, I think I’m pretty great at the ukulele, I mean, obviously, but the life of a solo artist is so hard. And lonely. And for all the posturing and everything I do, I really do love my hyungs.”
“Then maybe you should go bother them instead.”
“But, the fame and girls and –“
“Look, you have to find what you’re passionate about and just do it, ok? Like, my passion is music. Producing it, rapping, I do it all. But, it’s nothing if you don’t have friends. Your friends are the ones who encourage you to do better. So, if you really want my advice, talk to your hyungs.”
Yugyeom looked at the smaller man in shock. He was actually a lot smarter than his frivolous minty green hair suggested.
“Hey, can I call you hyung?”
Yoongi looked up at the young hulking idiot in shock.
“No. But you can call me Yoongi.”
-----
Jaebum was not having a good time. As the designated driver for the night, and as the leader of his friend group, he was in charge of making sure no shenanigans happened at the party. And now, four hours into the party, he had lost track of Mark completely, BamBam was dancing like an idiot with some guy on a table, Jackson had been running around looking for the owner of a shoe for some reason, Youngjae looked like he was harassing a freshman, and Jinyoung was consoling some crying freshman that Jaebum had just seen get the shit slapped out of him by a chick. To say the night was going to hell in a handbasket was an understatement.
Wandering through the living room of the house, Jaebum spotted a man passed out on the couch. The man was beautiful, ethereal in his looks, and wait, was he even breathing?! Panicking, Jaebum rushed over to the man, looking for the rise and fall of his chest under his over sized sweater, and not seeing it. He noticed the man’s lips looked slightly blue and chapped, and without even thinking of the consequences, Jaebum sucked in a gust of air, lowered his mouth to the man’s, and blew the air into his lungs.
