Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You know, with the expression you’re wearing, one would think I’d taken you to get tortured.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me that isn’t what this is?” Namjoon said, raising a brow at his best friend. The auctioneer assigned to them gestured for them to follow him, so Namjoon fell into step behind him down a long lit corridor, though all he wanted was to turn on his heels and run away screaming. Or maybe not screaming, but complaining - loudly and rudely - in his head. Jackson just rolled his eyes at him, his features heightened by the shifting artificial light from the screen-walls. He’d long grown immune to Namjoon’s grumbling, which troubled Namjoon greatly. He’d have to find a more efficient way to get him off his case soon.

“Having a quick look around won’t kill you.” Jackson said, swinging an arm around Namjoon’s shoulder and sending him a lewd grin, “hell you might even find something you like.”

He pointed to a picture of a pretty tiger hybrid flashing by on the screen next to them.

Namjoon pushed him off much to Jackson’s delight. The man, though dressed like the rich and powerful CEO that he was, refused to act as anything but a mischievous twenty-something-year-old.

“Why am I still friends with you?” Namjoon wondered, ignoring the pictures mixed in with the colorful lightning on the screen-walls.

God, he already hated this place.

In front of them, their personal auctioneer swiped his key-card, and two rounded glass doors slid open with a breath of cooled air bringing with it the sound of low chatter and old classical music.

“Because I’m one of the few people who doesn't care about your money or your status,” Jackson said matter-of-factly. He clasped hold around Namjoon’s shoulders once again pulling him with him as he walked through the doors and into the enormous auction hall, “and no one else is willing to put up with your moody ass.”

He winked at Namjoon who rolled his eyes at him, but he didn’t bother trying to dispute him. Namjoon let his eyes sweep across the amble space as Jackson dragged him down the glass staircase. It seemed like anyone with even an ounce of power to their name and their sycophants were here, peacocking about flaunting their own inflated idea of self-worth, as they strutted around between the slaves up for sale.

God, how he abhorred the elite.

Which considering his own elite status was a slight conundrum.

Crowds were milling about studying the holographic screens above the seated slaves, discussing their traits and qualifications as they sipped on their alcoholic drinks. The crowds gathered around certain chairs made it easy to see which slaves were the crowd-favorites.

Maybe he should buy all of their favorites right in front of their noses, Namjoon mused feeling petty.

“I can see you plotting something, Joon.” Jackson said the corner of his lips stretched into a smirk, “let’s at least try to play nice with all the rich, powerful people tonight, huh?”

“Oh, Jackson, don’t you know,” Namjoon chuckled, patting his friend on the back, “I always play nice.”

Jackson snorted “that my friend is the grossest lie you’ve ever told me.”

Namjoon just shrugged a devilish grin on his face.

“Now, please, go. Peruse. And for the love of all that is holy, choose a consort. I’m tired of all the rumors about you sticking to me because I bother to be your friend.”

“Your concern is heartwarming, Jackson, really I’m touched.”

“Shut up, and go find a consort. You know how the elite gossip and a man of your position should own at least two consorts to be accepted by these vultures. So please, for once, just stop being stubborn and actually consider the slaves available before you run off?”

“Fine, I’ll choose one. ONE! You hear me?”

“That’s my boy.”

Jackson ruffled up his hair and Namjoon pushed him away with an indignant huff, then he straightened out a few crinkles in his suit before he begrudgingly stepped forward into the crowd letting his eyes flutter across colorful holographic screens and the slaves below them. Jackson fell into step on his left, their auctioneer hovering a few steps behind them, but Namjoon paid them no mind. He walked down the empty spaces between the slaves not bothering to acknowledge the few people who dared approach him. He had no interest in any of their schemes.

Namjoon sighed as he took in the shifting screens. He never understood the need to make such a spectacle out of buying slaves. He wasn't opposed to owning slaves, not in the slightest, he believed in the symbiotic relationship of it. Besides, before the world had initiated the slave system, people had still been slaves to the system just living under the illusion of freedom. At least now they could be honest about it.

He wasn't naive. He knew there were slaves out there who were treated horribly, but that was a symptom of the ugliness of humanity, not the system of slaves. At least with slaves they were registered and depending on their registered category, their masters were required to provide certain living standards and general rights.

He knew a lot of the elite thought his reluctance to acquire a consort stemmed from a dislike of the slave system. That was far from the case. Namjoon didn't see the idea of owning slaves as any worse than a government that kept a whole nation enslaved on wages so low you'd be unable to get by on your own. So really it was just a reflection of the state of the world. It would always be unfair and someone would always draw the shorter end of the stick. No matter the system in place.

No, his reluctance came from the elite and their perverse obsession with out-staging each other and acquiring more slaves than they knew what to do with just to show off in the eyes of the powerful.

Namjoon scuffed.

There was nothing powerful about those peacocking suit-clad monkeys strutting about spending money they never had to work hard to earn.

He had no patience for any of their kind and not acquiring a consort was his way of rebelling. Of refusing to fit in and play their ridiculous games. Owning a consort was about showing off, flaunting how much money you could afford to waste on decadency.

He saw no point in it.

He didn't need their validation.

He'd worked to be on top and he needed no one else to tell him his worth.

Besides he'd never seen a slave he wanted to take as a consort. He didn't just want to acquire a doll to show off. He wanted it to be about more than that.

Namjoon pushed through a rather thick crowd, bits and pieces of whispered conversations brushing against his ears.

“...just look at those lips…”

“...if only I had the money…

“...look so good on his knees…”

Namjoon brows furrowed at the snippets he picked up, and he pushed past the last ring of excited buyers, stopping right below the plateau of the displayed slave that had caused such enthusiastic responses.

What he saw made him stop dead in his tracks, eyes widening in wonder and mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Chained to the display chair on the plateau in front of him sat the most beautiful boy, no, angel. The most ethereal angel Namjoon had ever seen. Wearing white from head to toe, he looked too clean and innocent for a place like this. Soft silver hair framed fearful eyes that darted across the starving masses eyeing him like a piece of meat, tears flowing down full cheeks, and flush pillow lips trembling from stifled cries.

Slightly droopy and puffy silver eyes blown wide in fear and horror, flickered up to meet his, and Namjoon’s heart gave a painful lunge. Almost instinctively his body surged forward, scaling the steps up the plateau with easy, deaf to the audible gasp and scandalized whispers filling the air around him. He sank to his knees in front of the angelic being, who stared at him with eyes filled with apprehension and unbridled fear.

Namjoon released a gentle hum then lifted his hand. When the boy flinched back, he instantly paused, hand hovering in the air.

“I won’t hurt you.” He whispered, watching as those silver eyes flashed with a million thoughts at once. Namjoon let his hand inch forward, and when the boy kept still, he cupped his face gently, thumbing away the tears that still stained his fair skin.

“You shouldn’t be in a place like this, angel.” Namjoon rasped, a soft smile spreading on his face. “Why are you here?”

A soft sniffle, then in a voice soothing like a gentle forest stream, the boy stammered, “my dad, he…” a hiccuping sob ran through him, and Namjoon shushed him gently, “...his debts, he couldn’t pay them, so…” Another sob ran through the boy, and he fell into silent cries unable to continue.

“Shh, angel, it’s alright. It’s going to be alright. I’ll make it alright.”

The boy looked at him with those mesmerizing silver eyes, a glimpse of hope playing in their depths.

“I won’t ever hurt you, and I’ll never force you. You have my word.”

The boy's eyes went impossible wide, and he stared at him in disbelief, his eyes running across his features, no doubts looking for signs of deceit. When he found none, Namjoon continued.

“Let me take you away from here, angel?”

A fresh slew of tears ran down the boy’s cheeks, and as he gave the faintest of nods, Namjoon straightened searching for his auctioneer. The man stood next to him shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clutching his digital board between fingers turned white from the force.

“My Lord please,” the man stammered, “I’ll have to ask you not to touch the merchandise.”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes at the man as he pushed himself onto his feet.

“And why shouldn’t I, he belongs to me!”

Loud gasps and sounds of protest reached him from the assembled crowd, but Namjoon paid them no mind, staring down the increasingly pale auctioneer.

“My lord, this slave ‘Jimin’ is in very high demand.” The man rambled, “not only is he of exceptional beauty, but he is a virgin and renowned as a skillful and graceful dancer.”

“And your point?”

“I… I can’t just sell him, not even to you my Lord, you’ll have to outbid the oth-”

“Name your price.” Namjoon cut him off, crossing his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at the auctioneer.

“My Lord, I-”

“What is the buy-out price?”

The auctioneer almost dropped his board between his shaking fingers as he scrambled to look up the needed information. A soft whine next to him, made him turn towards his angel, his Jimin, and he smiled at him calmly and reassuringly.

“Don’t worry.” He whispered, reaching down and running his fingers through his hair, trying to soothe the fear, worry, and apprehension still so visible on his angel's face.

“Two hundred million my lord,” the auctioneer's voice reached him. Namjoon saw how Jimin’s eyes widened, despair coloring his features. Namjoon understood, were he a normal man, that number would be dizzying. Luckily, nothing about Namjoon could be said to be normal.

He winked at Jimin.

“Three hundred,” Namjoon said, still looking at Jimin chuckling gently at the awestruck look that shifted across his face.

“My... My lord?” The auctioneer stammered.

“I’ll pay three hundred million if you free him from this chair immediately.”

The auctioneer’s eyes widened and an audible gasp ran through the crowd.

“I… I understand my Lord. Of course. What category should we register your slave in?”

“Consort.”

Excited whispers broke out around them, and Namjoon fought his impulse to roll his eyes. Well, at least this should give the gossiping elite enough fodder to stop making up new rumors about him for a short while.

“Understood my Lord.” The auctioneer let his fingers fly across the screen of his board, then seconds later, a red banner appeared over Jimin’s head, the word ‘sold’ written in bold white letters. The man made a strange gesture with his right hand, and two guards appeared next to Jimin, and with a swipe of a key-card, the chains dropped freeing the flabbergasted boy.

They grabbed hold of his biceps pulling him to his feet. Jimin winced when he put weight back onto his legs, and Namjoon narrowed his eyes at the guards who immediately bowed their heads in apology.

Namjoon put a hand against Jimin's soft cheek, sending him a tender smile, “go with them, little angel. I’ll see you later.”

Jimin stared at him in silent wonder, his mouth opening and closing several times, but no sound left him. Namjoon chuckled, running his thumb across Jimin’s cheekbone one last time, before he stepped back, and with a flick of his head motioned for the guards to escort Jimin to the preparation area.

The guards gently pulled the boy with them, and just as they were about to guide him off the plateau, Jimin paused then turned to Namjoon.

“Tha- thank you, Master,” The boy said, his voice wet and shaking, as he dropped into a deep bow. Namjoon wanted to pull him into a tight hug and reassure him that he had nothing to thank him for, but he refrained. He remained in the same spot sending Jimin a gentle smile when he straightened, then followed him with his eyes, as the guards walked him out of the room.

“So,” a voice drawled to his left, and Namjoon barely kept himself from jumping and letting out a highly undignified shriek. “That wasn’t so hard now was it?”

“Shut up, Jackson!” Namjoon growled at his friend who broke into loud cackles next to him.

“No, but I mean, you couldn’t just go around and bid on a couple of slaves here and there, you know, like the rest of us normal people. No no, that would be too boring for THE Kim Namjoon, wouldn’t it?”

Namjoon considered if it was worth it to knock Jackson out just to get him to shut up, but he knew his friend would hold it over him for the next several years, so he quickly pushed the thought aside, suffering in silence as Jackson went on.

“No, you had to not only match the insane buy-out price that no ever, EVER, chose to pay, but you had to add to it, just to make sure that you precious little, what was it, Angel?” Jackson snorted and Namjoon rolled his eyes, “that you little angel didn’t have to sit a second longer in that chair. Such a Prince Charming.”

"You wanted me to choose a consort. And I did. So." Namjoon huffed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers with a petulant pout on his face. He cast a quick glance at the holo screen playing above Jimin’s now empty chair. All his details stod listed, weight, height, preference. Nothing was kept private. Namjoon understood from a business standpoint, but he still disliked putting another human being's whole life on display like that.

A video of Jimin dancing started playing. He was in a white outfit moving across the stage a flowing white fabric billowing around him, movement graceful like a gazelle.

Angel, Namjoon marveled, he'd really gotten an angel as his consort.

"Well," Jackson said, "now that you've ripped the proverbial bandage off, want to go explore a bit more?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at him, his eyes shining with mischief. Namjoon rolled his eyes - he feared they'd get permanently stuck in the back of his head one of these days, but he nevertheless agreed.

Even though he doubted that he'd find anyone else he'd want the same way he'd wanted Jimin, he still let his eyes flutter across the displays around him as he and Jackson made it further into the auction hall.

Wait.

Namjoon did a full stop, digging his heels in, his head whipping to the side, his eyes settling on the majestic creature that had caught his attention.

His eyes widened as he took in the cat hybrid, who sat poised on his chair like it was a throne, looking regal and not at all like a slave chained to an auction chair. His shiny black ears flicked atop his head, and dark slanted eyes glared daggers at any buyer who dared venture near him as if daring them to even think of buying him.

Namjoon glanced to the holo screen.

Yoongi, bastard son of a noble, virgin, suitable for the scribe category.

Interesting.

Namjoon wanted him. He wanted him with an intensity that surprised him. He turned and stalked towards the proud feline. When he noticed his approach Yoongi turned his eyes to him, glaring and scowling at him.

But Namjoon saw it, the slight fear playing in his eyes behind all the bravado.

But he refused to back down, holding his head high and glaring down his nose at him. Inexplicable desire bubbled into life within Namjoon to make this proud creature his. To make him submit to him and only him.

Yoongi followed his every move with attentive eyes, as he walked over until he came to a stop right in front of the plateau the cat was displayed on. Namjoon looked Yoongi dead in the eyes raising a brow at him in a challenge as he said, "he's mine."

Yoongi's eyes widened then his upper lip pulled back in a sneer and he growled, his ears pulling back. A smirk made its way onto Namjoon’s face, as he kept eye contact with the hybrid.

"The buy-out price again, my lord?" his attendant said next to him.

"And whatever is needed on top of it to have him out of his chair immediately."

"Of course, my lord. Which category should I note him as?"

Namjoon sent Yoongi a broad smile as he stated, "consort."

Yoongi's eyes widened in surprise and fear started playing in his eyes as his ears and tail flicked in agitation. Namjoon understood. He'd no doubt thought he'd be bought into the scribe category.

"As you wish, my lord."

Just as with Jimin, a red banner appeared above Yoongi’s head, and two guards showed up to free him from his chair. As the chains fell from him, Yoongi pulled his arms free of the guards’ grip, and sending a last narrowed glare in Namjoon’s direction a fearsome growl vibrating in he depths of his chest, he turned on his heel, walking towards the back area with his head held high.

With a low chuckle, Namjoon turned his eyes away only to spot Jackson who was looking at him with a shit-eating grin.

"And here I thought you didn't even want a single consort."

"Shut up," Namjoon huffed. But even he had to admit that he was surprised. He didn't know what came over him, just that when he saw Yoongi, saw that proud creature sitting there, the idea of making the regal hybrid chose to submit to him, without breaking his spirit, were making Namjoon’s insides boil.

But it did leave him intrigued. What other interesting slaves would he be able to find here?

Deciding that he might as well quell his own curiosity, he truly started to explore. He weaved in and out of the display chairs getting farther and farther away from the entrance. There were fewer people here, and the slaves on display were either of the entertainment class or suspected to sell into that class.

He still hadn't reached the far end though, so most likely the last area where for household slaves. He figured a high-class establishment like this would not display labor or escort slaves.

A video caught his attention. Two hybrids, a dog and a bunny were doing the most impressive acrobatics and synchronized dance moves. He stared at the video completely entranced. The pomeranian's soft light brown curls shifted as he moved, and the bunny's long soft white ears contrasted beautifully against his black hair.

Namjoon couldn't help himself from moving closer to the two hybrids. They sat with their shoulders hunched, keeping their eyes on the floor, not even acknowledging him as he approached.

He stopped in front of the dog hybrid, his soft ears droopy and sad.

Namjoon looked up at the screen above him.

Hoseok, entertainer, branded.

Branded?

"Lift your head Hoseok, let me see you."

The boy’s shoulders tightened, and for a couple of seconds, nothing happened. Then reluctantly he lifted his head and a breathless gasp left Namjoon.

The boy was gorgeous. Warm soft light brown eyes, high full cheekbones, and a soft heart-shaped mouth. That wasn't what made Namjoon gasp. No, what shocked him was the clear black mark stretching from the top of the right side of his forehead down to his jaw.

A branded thief.

Next to Hoseok, the bunny had lifted his head as well, a similar mark stretching down the left side of his face. Not that it took away from the boy’s beauty.

Namjoon glanced up.

Jungkook.

Two branded beauties.

He'd never expected to find marked thieves at a high-scale auction house like this, but then again from what he'd seen, they were good. Really good.

Out the corner of his eyes, he noticed Hoseok watching him, studying him with huge worried eyes. Namjoon turned his attention back on the pretty pup.

"What did you do to get this, little pup?" Namjoon ran the tip of his pointy finger gently down Hoseok's face following the stark marking against his honeyed skin.

"I…" Hoseok swallowed and looked down, his shoulders hunched in again.

"We stole medicine."

Namjoon turned to Jungkook. The bunny was watching him with wide eyes, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip.

"Why?"

"The troupe leader, he–"

"Our friend got sick." Hoseok raised his voice, cutting Jungkook off.

"Your friend?" Namjoon turned his attention back on the pup who nodded his head.

"Yes Lord, Ali, she is a cat hybrid. She used to be part of our troupe. But then she got sick." Pain flickered past his eyes. "Really sick."

Jungkook sniffled.

"The troupe leader wouldn't pay for medicine, even though we said he wouldn't have to pay us until the medicine was paid off. So we stole it." Hoseok hung his head, "we knew we would get caught, but we couldn't let Ali die."

Hoseok looked up, tears rimming his eyes, "we didn't get to say goodbye. We don't even know if she got cured."

Namjoon studied him for a second, "so you got branded for stealing medicine to save your friend’s life?"

Hoseok nodded.

"And then sold into slavery to make up for the cost of the stolen meds?"

Again Hoseok nodded.

Namjoon let his eyes flicker across the two hybrid's features, and God Namjoon wanted them.

There was no denying the attraction he felt for the golden-haired puppy and the doe-eyed bunny. On top of that the thought of showing them off at the social gatherings of the elites wearing their thief brands proudly on their cheeks, made him smile.

God, the scandal it would be.

He noticed Hoseok watching him, and turned his attention back to him from where it had been fixed on the mark on Jungkooks face.

"My lord," the pup said eyes wide and pleading, "if… if you are interested in Jungkook I beg you, please, please don't separate us."

Namjoon’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't even considered buying only one of them. He wanted Hoseok just as much as he wanted Jungkook.

Hoseok sniffed, "I… I know I'm not particularly beautiful, my lord, and I know I have next to no value with this brand on my face."

He looked into Namjoon’s eyes, tears slowly trailing down his cheeks, and his voice breaking as he kept going, "but please, my lord, if you let me stay with Jungkook, I'll be so so good for you."

Jungkook watched his friend speak with wide glassy eyes, tears of his own starting to fall.

"I'll… I'll never cause trouble, I'll work tirelessly to please you, and the two of us together are some of the best entertainers out there."

Namjoon was flabbergasted. He wanted to reach out and remove the tears flowing down Hoseok's cheeks, but when he didn't answer him immediately Hoseok continued.

"Please, my lord. He…he's all I have left." Hoseok's voice broke on a sob and he hung his head, his shoulders shaking with his silent cries.

Jungkook was full-on crying now and a softly murmured, "Hoseokie-hyung," escaped him.

Namjoon considered the two of them for a second, the heartbreaking desperation and love shining in their eyes, the loyalty they displayed.

"I'll take the two of them," he finally said a soft smile on his face as he noticed the disbelief on their faces, a smile that only broadened as their faces morphed into happy gratitude.

Through his tears, Hoseok mumbled, "thank you, my lor… Master, thank you Master, thank you so so much."

Namjoon shushed him gently thumping away at his tears, then did the same for Jungkook.

"Should I put them down as entertainers, my lord?" His attendant asked.

Namjoon considered the two of them with a half-smile.

Oh, he was going to start so many rumors.

How marvelous.

"No," Namjoon said with a shake of his head, watching as the two hybrids’ eyes widened with worry and uncertainty. He sent them a reassuring smile, then completely mindless of the crowd around him, he added, "put them down as consorts."

An audible gasp went through the crowd, and Namjoon couldn’t keep a small smirk from showing. The elite would be gossiping about this for days. Both Hoseok’s and Jungkook’s jaws dropped, their expressions showing complete shock.

Namjoon smiled reassuringly at them.

“But my lord,” the attendant protested, “their marks-”

“Are marks of loyalty.” Namjoon interrupted him, letting his voice carry as he rounded on the attendant, “and of love and sacrifice for a friend. In my eyes, they are badges of honor.”

He turned his gaze to Jungkook and Hoseok, watching as their eyes filled with wonder and tears a slight air of disbelief still hanging in the air around them.

“Ve- Very well my lord,” the attendant sighed as he tapped away on the digital clipboard.

“Ma… Master...you…” Hoseok croaked, looking at him with tear-filled eyes.

Namjoon let a gentle smile stretch his lips as he crouched down next to Hoseok, placing a tender hand against his marked cheek, running his thumb softly against his beautiful high cheekbone.

“Don’t sell yourself short pup,” he murmured, “you are plenty beautiful.”

A gorgeous blush crept across Hoseok’s cheeks, just as the chain sprung loose from his wrist and ankles. As the hybrids got helped on their feet by the guards, Namjoon stood, sending them both a warm smile as they were guided down from the platform.

As they were taken away, Jungkook suddenly twisted in his handler’s grip turning towards Namjoon and falling into a deep bow, a loud “thank you, Master,” escaping from him as he straightened, a beautiful buck-toothed smile lighting up his face. Namjoon couldn’t help an endeared smile from emerging as he gently waved him off.

A loud sigh next to him alerted him to Jackson’s presence. “You just had to go and cause a huge scandal didn’t you?”

“But of course,” Namjoon said with a crooked grin, “someone has to give the elite something to gossip about. Otherwise, how would they possibly keep themselves entertained?”

“You’re impossible.” Jackson huffed, “choosing two thieves as consorts just to piss on the elites.”

“Well,” Namjoon shrugged, “not just to piss on them. I actually wanted them.”

“Would you look at that,” Jackson hummed, “you might not be completely hopeless after all.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Nah, you’d miss me. Anyway, come with me, there’s a slave who’d be perfect for you.” Jackson’s eyes shimmered with giddy excitement, and Namjoon rolled his eyes at him, but never-the-less allowed his friend to drag him further into the labyrinth of displayed slaves.

Chapter Text

Jackson stalked forward, confidently navigating the mass of moving bodies and raised plateaus, dragging Namjoon along with him. He had a bounce to his step, his excitement bubbling over and despite himself, Namjoon chuckled, endeared at his old friend's behavior.

They came to a sudden stop, and Namjoon raised a brow at Jackson in question. With a knowing grin on his face, Jackson pointed to his left, and Namjoon shifted his gaze looking at the plateau he’d indicated.

A deep intense red was the first he saw. Long beautiful flaming red hair, that fell past slender shoulders, long bangs that framed a - oh my god - godly face. Sharp jaw, beautiful cheekbones, soft skin and-

The slave turned his gaze towards them and trapped Namjoon within a deep green universe glittering with sparkles of gold. He sucked in a sharp breath, so entranced by those magical green eyes, that he barely noticed the scar cutting from the middle of his forehead, kissing his left eyebrow and stretching to his ear.

Namjoon gasped, his eyes snapping to the holographic screen above his head, desperate to know who’d dared to hurt this godlike being.

Taehyung, born into the escort class, previously categorized S-class, educated as a consort. Scar permanent.

Permanent? A surge of anger ran through Namjoon. Someone had dared to hurt Taehyung with a plasma weapon?!

Namjoon looked down and found Taehyung looking directly at him, one brow raised and his head slightly tilted as he watched them, a spark of recognition playing in his eyes.

“Perfect, right?” Jackson grinned, “he’s been trained to be a consort, so he could help you teach the other slaves you picked up. And,” Jackson wriggled his brows at him, “I bet he knows some wicked tricks.”

Namjoon groaned, “you’re so crass.”

“And you’re a prude,” Jackson countered without missing a beat, “which is wild considering I’ve heard you fuck, and damn.”

“Just because I know what I’m doing, it doesn’t mean I have to talk like a horndog.”

“As I said, prude.” Jackson shrugged. “And with the things you’re into-”

“Jackson, I beg you, shut the fuck up.” Namjoon groaned, stepping away from the man and towards the plateau.

“You’re no fun,” Jackson said that infernal smirk of his back on his face.

“No, you’re right, I’m not. Now that you’ve realized, maybe you’ll stop bothering me and forcing me to attend all those cursed gatherings?”

“Hmm, nope.” Jackson hummed, making the ‘p’ pop. “Your misery is my only entertainment these days.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes in exasperation but opted to keep silent, even as Jackson sniggered next to him, no doubt aware of Namjoon’s suffering.

“You’re Kim Namjoon.” A deep baritone voice that had chills running down Namjoon’s spine cut through Jackson’s sniggering, and Namjoon looked to Taehyung who studied him with clear curiosity, his head still cocked to the side in thought.

“I am,” Namjoon said, not even bothering to ask him how he knew of him. It made sense if he’d been trained in an elite escort house, that he’d know of the most powerful men in their society.

“You don’t bid on slaves.”

The bluntness surprised him, but at the same time, it brought a smile to his lips. This boy knew who he was and yet, he saw no fear nor reprehension in his eyes. In a world filled with spineless opportunistic brownnosing sheep, this type of behavior was refreshing.

“You’re right, I don’t.” Namjoon said, “I don’t see the point in bidding when I can just buy what I want immediately.”

Taehyung studied him, those beautiful eyes roaming his face, “makes sense,” he finally settled on, “but you don’t buy slaves either.”

Namjoon snorted, a deep chuckle escaping him, “again, you’re right, my chief of staff usually acquires the slaves I need.”

Taehyung tilted his head to the other side, a puzzled expression settling on his face, “then why are you here?”

“Because this idiot here-”

“Hey!” Jackson huffed.

“-decided to drag me here by force, because he thinks I need a consort.”

“Oh,” Taehyung’s eyes widened, his head straightening as he studied Jackson, “you’re Jackson Wang.”

“That I am, beautiful.” Jackson swaggered.

Taehyung didn’t respond in any way, his attention returning to Namjoon immediately, “he’s right. You do need a consort. A man like you not having a consort equals a king without his finery.”

“But does the finery make the king more kingly? Is the finery needed for the king to be a king?” Namjoon countered, smiling in delight when Taehyung's brows furrowed in thought.

“I guess not. Lack of finery does not take away the qualities of the king to be king, however without the finery, the king will not look like a king to others, who as a result will be less inclined to believe in the king’s qualities. As such finery might not be needed for the king to be a king, but it will make a difference in how well he and subsequently his rule is perceived.”

Jackson let out a whistle, “that’s basically what I’ve been trying to tell you for years.”

“Shut up, Jackson,” Namjoon mumbled mostly on instinct, completely focused on Taehyung, “so you’re saying that the amount of finery and the quality of it, should be of at least equal value to the qualities of the king, for him and his rule to be viewed fairly.”

“More or less,” Taehyung shrugged, “a king might be an amazing king, but if those he’s supposed to rule, do not view him as a prober king, because he does not conduct himself as is expected, he runs the risk of sabotaging his own rule.”

“Interesting,” Namjoon hummed, “but let’s say the king is powerful and has lots of resources so that he is for all intents and purposes untouchable, would he then still need finery.”

“No one is truly untouchable,” Taehyung answered, a dark cloud dampening the shine of his eyes, “even someone incredibly powerful with status and resources will have to play the game, or one day be scarred.”

Namjoon’s eyes flicked to the deep scar cutting down the side of Taehyung’s face.

“Nemesis will come for all who commit hybris, Lord Kim, be it a powerful king or a lowly escort.” Taehyung smiled at him, a sad little thing, that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Ah, and because I’m being too proud and too confident in my power, and refusing to play by the rules, you’d say I’m committing hybris?” Namjoon asked, tilting his head to the side.

“It could be viewed as such, yes,” Taehyung said with a nod.

“Alright,” Namjoon said, “in that case how many consorts would be required of me to uphold the requirements for one of my status in your opinion.”

“At least five,” Taehyung answered without a shred of hesitation, “and they should be of the highest quality. Anything less than that would not meet the standards.”

“He’s not wrong, Joon.” Jackson hummed, “like I’ve been saying.”

“Oh, I know he’s not,” Namjoon smirked, calling his auctioneer over, “I’ll be taking him as well.”

“Very well, Sir,” the auctioneer sighed, the poor man just going along with Namjoon’s whims at this point.

“Oh no, Lord,” Taehyung hurried to protest, even as the chains clicked free from his wrists and ankles, “you shouldn’t buy me, I’m scarred. I’m not of a high enough quality to-”

“You’re just perfect, Taehyung.” Namjoon cut him off, “you’re right that you might not fit into the requirements that society has set, but I have lived a long time not caring about those. It might be hybris, and it might come back to scar me, but I will choose my finery based on my requirements, and in my eyes, you, and the other consorts I’ve chosen today, by far excites the top value of any scale that could be used to measure you.”

Taehyung watched him with those mesmerizing eyes of his, as the guards helped him to his feet, “you’re different,” he said, once again tilting his head.

“Oh you have no idea,” Jackson huffed, earning a side-eye from Namjoon.

“I am,” he answered Taehyung, smiling at him, “I’m a king who wants to be king in his own way, and not the way those who believe themselves powerful wants a king to be.”

“I see,” Taehyung said, and then a bright boxy smile that took Namjoon’s breath away appeared on his lips, “it’ll be an honor to be your consort, Master.”

He fell into a low bow, before the guards took him away, leaving behind a stumped Namjoon.

“I like him,” Jackson said, and Namjoon glanced at him, finding a shit-eating grin on his face, “he managed to leave you speechless and argue against you. He’ll keep you plenty entertained. Mentally and physically.” He winked and Namjoon rolled his eyes with a groan.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet I run a successful firm, have my own beautiful consorts and a wonderful estate.”

“As if that has anything to do with you being an intolerable, little-”

“Right, right, I hear you, I hear you,” Jackson cut him off, clasping a hold around Namjoon’s shoulders, “let’s take a stroll down this way. We haven’t looked here yet, and with the roll you’re on, who knows, you might find several slaves you need to acquire.”

Namjoon looked to the heavens as he heaved in a sigh, “one day, I’ll run out of patience, and they’ll never discover your body.”

“Aww,” Jackson cooed, “I love you too, Joon.”

“You’re so goddamn lucky that I like you,” Namjoon grumbled as Jackson dragged him along, letting his eyes drift along the different plateaus as they passed them. Jackson led them down the different corridors, humming a merry tune under his breath, and Namjoon although itching to go home, humored his friend. He’d never admit it, but with the way things had turned out, he felt grateful to Jackson for having forced him to come today. The thought of his new consorts filled him with a giddy excitement the likes of which he hadn’t felt for a long time.

A buzz of several excited voices tickled his ear, and he looked towards the commotion, halting in his tracks when he spotted the slave that had caused the enthusiastic response from the gathered crowd. Shiny blond hair that fell in soft waves framed a gorgeous chiseled face, softened by big brown doe eyes and plush lips. He stared into thin air, his mind somewhere completely else, and yet even still he sat straight on his chair, broad shoulders pulled back and head held high.

A prince, Namjoon thought, a handsome little prince.

He glanced at the holographic display above his head, curious to know more about this slave.

Seokjin, born into the Scribe category, classified S-class, educated as a scribe.

Namjoon raised a brow. S-class scribes were rarely up for sale. A scribe of that class would usually have the funds to buy themselves free and those few who didn’t mostly choose to stay with their masters out of loyalty or simply because they enjoyed their work and saw no reason to bother with freedom.

He walked closer, completely ignorant of the hush that fell over the previously loud crowd, or the way a patch cleared naturally in front of him. Seokjin seemed to notice the change in the atmosphere around him, his eyes blinking back into focus, to flicker down and lock onto Namjoon. His eyes widened in recognition and a small gasp escaped him. Namjoon paused right in front of the plateau, his brow raising in question when the recognition in Seokjin’s eyes shifted into something else. Something that looked remarkably like anger. Maybe even hate.

Huh, interesting.

“Lord Kim,” Seokjin said, acknowledging him with a bow of his head. The words and his actions, although polite, couldn’t hide the disdain hidden in his tone, and Namjoon tilted his head contemplating as he watched him. He didn’t remember running into this slave, so at least the hate wouldn’t likely come from something he’d personally done.

“Scribe,” Namjoon answered, his lips pulling into a smile, “you don’t like me much do you?”

Seokjin’s eyes widened, as low gasps filtered through the air. Namjoon kept a friendly smile plastered onto his lips, carefully watching Seokjin. He didn’t care in the slightest that he was putting him in a difficult position, or the new rumors he would start for calling him out so directly. Some of these vultures definitely knew who his master had been beforehand, and would link Seokjin’s distaste of him to his old masters' opinion.

Seokjin scuffed, and Namjoon had to give it to him. He was bold.

“No Lord, I do not.”

“And why is that?” Namjoon tilted his head to the other side, letting his dimples show, fighting back a laugh when Seokjin rolled his eyes at him.

“I don’t owe you an explanation for my dislike.”

“You’re right, you don’t. However, I’m curious.”

“I apologize Lord Kim, but I’m under no obligation to satisfy your curiosity.”

Namjoon barked out a laugh, “once again, you’re right.” Namjoon let his smile fall and he cocked his head to the side, raising his brow at Seokjin, “you will be if I buy you though.”

Seokjin went rigid, his eyes widening in surprise. Namjoon stared him down, his brow raised in continued challenge. He wasn’t sure why he was going this far. Why he even wanted to know why Seokjin hated him, but something about this slave intrigued him. And he needed to know how he’d managed to inspire such anger in this beautiful man.

“Would you be so petty as to buy someone who hates you as your slave just to get your way?” Seokjin sneered at him, dropping all semblance of polite behavior.

Namjoon shrugged, “I don’t see why not. And on top of that, you are an incredibly talented scribe and have the looks of a top-class consort. Besides, I've worked with plenty of people that hate me. Employed lots of them too.”

Seokjin glared at him, “you think all this is a game don’t you?”

“No, not really no,” Namjoon said, “it’s just not often someone dares to express their hatred for me so directly. So you could say that I’m intrigued.”

“Intrigued,” Seokjin scoffed, “you ruin my life, and then my hatred leaves you fucking intrigued?!”

Namjoon’s eyes widened. Now, this he hadn’t seen coming. Interesting.

“I’m not really in the business of ruining people’s lives on purpose, scribe.”

“You killed my Master!” Seokjin seethed, his whole body vibrating with anger, and Namjoon stared at him, as scandalized whispers broke out around them.

“I’ve done a lot of things to get where I am, little scribe,” Namjoon said, crossing his arms over his chest, “but I’ve certainly never killed anyone. What was your master’s name?”

“Bang Si-Hyuk.”

Namjoon stumbled, his ears ringing. Jackson caught him by his arm, his face twisted in worry. Namjoon gave him a quick nod as thanks, immediately schooling his features, masking his shock, but his thoughts were buzzing. It couldn’t- it couldn’t be. There was just no way. This slave had been Si-Hyuk’s? How had he never met him? Could- could he be…

He turned to his attendant, the poor man jumping in shock, “is he telling the truth?”

“My- my lord,” the man stammered, “you know I cannot tell you that. It’s-”

“You’ll tell me right now,” Namjoon growled, “or I’ll get this whole place shut down.”

All color left the man’s skin and he immediately shifted through the data on his holoboard, his hands shaking as he worked.

“Joon,” Jackson whispered next to him, his worry clear in his voice, “what is going on?”

Namjoon ignored him, staring down their attendant. It couldn’t fucking be. Just no way.

“It-” the attendant’s voice broke, and he cleared his throat, “it would appear he’s speaking the truth, my Lord. Although the one who put this slave up for sale was Lord Bang’s son.”

His son!! Anger made Namjoon’s whole body shake. That fucking snake had lied to him. Namjoon turned to Seokjin, the man watching him with those narrowed eyes.

“I didn’t kill your master, little scribe,” Namjoon said, pushing a hand through his hair with a sigh, a quiet laugh escaping him, “but I did promise him something, and you’re not going to like it.”

Seokjin’s eyes went wide, but before he could protest, Namjoon turned to his attendant, “I’m buying him.”

“No,” Seokjin’s low gasp almost disappeared in the wake of whispers that erupted around them, but Namjoon heard him, and glanced at the man, who stared at him in complete horror. Namjoon sighed, he’d have to deal with this soon, or he’d end up with a real problem on his hands.

“In the scribe-category I assume, Lord?”

“No,” Namjoon shook his head, “put him down as a consort.”

“What?!” Seokjin’s shrill shout cut through the loud murmurs that erupted around them, and he stared at Namjoon in shock, which quickly dissolved into anger, “I refuse! I won’t accept this.”

The chains from around his wrists and ankles sprung loose, and Seokjin shot to his feet, fighting against the guards that took hold of him, as he glared daggers at Namjoon “You’ll never be my master!”

Namjoon sighed. This was what he got from honoring a promise.

“Hold him still,” he shot at the guards, who forced Seokjin down on his knees, keeping him in place, as Namjoon stepped right up to the platform, and leaned close to Seokjin.

“Now, you listen to me, little scribe.” He said, keeping his voice low but clear, “Bang Si-Hyuk was my friend, and I sure as hell didn’t kill him, no matter what his bastard son told you.”

Seokjin puffed out his chest, ready to argue, anger blazing in his eyes, but Namjoon cut him off before he could get started.

“When you receive your new ID cuff, two files will be on it. One will be a video of a meeting between me and Bang Si-Hyuk-hyung from 10 years ago, the other will be a highlighted part from his testament that was sent to me regarding you.”

Seokjin’s eyes widened and confusion flickered across his face, “I don’t- I don’t believe you. You’re lying!”

Namjoon huffed, “And just what would I gain from lying about this little scribe? Go through those files on your way to my home, then we’ll talk, and I’ll answer your questions.” Without waiting for Seokjin’s reply, he looked to the guards, “take him.”

They pulled Seokjin on his feet and guided the stumped slave of the plateau. He turned to look at Namjoon, his eyes swimming with mistrust, anger, confusion, and even sadness. Namjoon heaved in a deep sigh, and mindful of the still buzzing hyenas he ignored Jackson’s worried look as he turned around, and walked away from the commotion.

“I’ll tell you later,” he muttered and Jackson nodded.

God, what an eventful day.

------

Out in the preparation area, the doors slid open, and Yoongi got escorted in, the two guards walking next to him, but none of them touching the proud hybrid. He looked around the room, his eyes falling on Jimin who stood with a holoboard looking through different pages, his cheeks burning. At the sound of the doors opening Jimin looked up, catching Yoongi’s eyes. The cat hybrid looked him over, then he scoffed and looked away, and Jimin looked back down at his holoscreen feeling small.

“Don’t touch me,” Yoongi growled at the guards, who rolled their eyes at the hybrid, before they turned around and walked back to the main auction chamber, leaving Jimin and Yoongi alone with the preparation staff.

A young woman in a standard office-suit approached the hybrid, “your ID cuff,” she said, holding out a thin metal wristband. Yoongi glared at the item, everything within him rebelling at the thought of wearing that around his wrist.

Jimin watched the hybrid as he stared down the staff, glancing down to the metal band around his wrist. He couldn’t access it yet, but the staff had told him that was normal. The transfer of ownership to his new master had to be completed first. Jimin sighed as he looked back to his holoscreen, his cheeks heating up again at the text floating before his eyes. He’d been stuck on this part for an embarrassingly long time, but he just didn’t know what to do.

“What the fuck is this shit?!” Yoongi hissed, rounding on the staff who sent him a polite smile.

“It’s part of the preparation process all consorts have to go through Yoongi. All consorts get modified to suit the taste of their new master.”

Yoongi glared at the woman, his ears pulling back, the holoscreen next to him displaying the questionnaire he’d been prompted to complete after he reluctantly fastened the cuff around his wrist. Jimin watched the angry hybrid with wide eyes.

“This is sick!” Yoongi growled, “why the fuck would you modify my damn slick!”

Jimin blushed, completely mortified as he glanced down at the question on his questionnaire, and the different taste and scent variations Namjoon had approved for the standard slick modification performed on consorts.

“It’s standard procedure Yoongi,” the staff replied, her smile looking strained, “and as you can see, for hybrids who already have slick, Lord Kim has chosen the option to let you keep your natural scent and flavor.”

“Oh how damn generous of him,” Yoongi scuffed, pressing down on the option to forego modification.

Jimin swallowed, looking at his screen, then with blushing cheeks chose the option to let the facility decide and pair him with the modification best suited for his body. A female staff member popped up next to him, and Jimin squeaked in surprise, blushing when he saw Yoongi scuff at his reaction.

“If you’ll come with me please,” she said, gesturing for him to step forward, “we’ll get the modification process started.”

“Oh- okay,” Jimin swallowed, following the young woman towards the adjacent room.

“No need to be nervous, dear,” she said as the doors opened with a soft woosh, “it’s completely safe, and won’t hurt a bit.”

Jimin glanced back towards Yoongi, but the cat hybrid didn’t spare him a glance as the doors closed between them, leaving him alone in the room.

Yoongi’s brows furrowed as he read through the rest of the questionnaire Namjoon had asked for them to go through. It was a consent form.

He scuffed.

Ridiculous.

It was just a whole damn list of kinks and preferences during sex, asking him to choose what he was okay with, what was soft limits, and what was hard limits. He hadn’t even heard of most of the stuff on this perverse list.

The doors slid open, four guards escorting Jungkook and Hoseok into the room. The moment the guards released them, Hoseok flung himself at Jungkook, holding him tight, tears of relief floating down his cheeks.

“Thank God,” he sniffled, “I get to stay with you.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook murmured, holding Hoseok’s slender frame tight, nuzzling against the top of his head, breathing in his scent, a protective surge running through him.

“Your ID cuffs,” Hoseok jumped, turning to see a young woman holding out matching metal cuffs for him and Jungkook. He took his own gingerly with a muttered thanks, Jungkook copying his action. He clasped the cuff around his wrist and it immediately resized itself, so it sat snug and comfortably against his skin. He raised his hand, twisting and turning it, marveling at how the metal shone against his skin.

He grinned at Jungkook, “I can’t believe we’re conso-”

“What the hell are branded thieves doing here,” Yoongi’s angry voice cut Hoseok off, his upper lip raising in a haughty sneer. Hoseok’s ears fell, and he stared at the angry cat with wide eyes. Yoongi looked at Hoseok's wrist, seeing the ID cuff there, and his eyes narrowed in anger.

“He chose branded thieves as his fucking consorts. What a joke,” he scuffed, tail flicking behind him, “I can’t believe I have to debase myself to be that arrogant fools consort.”

“You- you- How can you talk that way about master?” Hoseok said, anger curling in his stomach.

“Hah,” Yoongi huffed, turning away from the two other hybrids, focusing on his holoscreen and that infernal consent questionnaire, “he might have bought me, but he’s not my master. And I’ll talk about him how I damn well please. A dumb branded mutt like you should just shut up.”

Hoseok flinched back like he'd been hit, his ears pulling down and his tail going between his legs. Strong arms wrapped around Hoseok’s trembling frame, and Jungkook pulled him close, letting him hide his whimpers against his chest.

“How dare you!?” Jungkook growled, glaring at Yoongi who turned towards him with an amused expression on his face.

“How dare I?” Yoongi raised his brow, a small chuckle escaping him, “I could say the same to you, little bunny. How dare you talk back to me? A lowly thief like you daring to talk back to a noble?” He scuffed, “know your place!”

“I think you forget,” Jungkook spit out through clenched teeth, “you’re not a noble anymore. You’re a consort. Just like us. Our status is the same. And from here on? Master is the one who decides our ranks, and with your attitude, your rank will be below ours very soon.”

Yoongi went rigid, then a fearsome growl erupted from his throat and he turned towards Jungkook who met his glare with one of his own, an angry growl starting in his throat.

“Nobels are all the same!” Jungkook said, squeezing his hyung gently, “think they can say and do whatever they want with no consequences,” he smirked at Yoongi who hissed in response, “when I outrank you, I’ll make sure to treat you like dirt, just like you nobles have treated us all our life.”

“You’ll never be above me,” Yoongi growled stalking towards Jungkook, who immediately pushed a frightened Hoseok behind him.

“Enough!”

Yoongi’s cuff crackled, and with a scream of pain, the hybrid fell to his knees clutching his wrist. Jimin looked at Yoongi kneeling on the floor screaming in pain with big eyes, the young woman by his side who’d taken him to be modified scuffed, and with a single tap on her holoboard, Yoongi’s shrill screams stopped, and the hybrid was left huffing on the floor tears rolling down his cheeks. He turned his head towards them, glaring. Jimin flinched back at the intensity of it.

“You will behave yourselves.” She said, stepping into the room, “or you’ll have to suffer the consequences. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Yoongi bit out as he struggled to get back on his feet. He sent one last glare towards Jungkook, who still stood protectively in front of Hoseok, then he huffed and went back to his holoscreen, completely ignoring everyone else.

“You certainly have an eclectic taste, Master,” Taehyung huffed, chuckling when three heads whipped towards him. No one had noticed his entrance during Yoongi’s fight with Hoseok and Jungkook, and he’d silently observed their behavior. Yoongi pretended to ignore him, but one of his ears turned towards him, twitching slightly.

“The only one of you who looks and behaves even slightly like a consort of a man like Master Kim should is you.”

Taehyung pointed to Jimin who blushed.

“Sorry,” Jungkook mumbled, and Hoseok hung his head.

“Don’t be sorry, be better,” Taehyung retorted as he stepped further into the room, accepting his ID cuff with a smile and a gentle thank you.

“But he started it!” Jungkook said, a petulant pout on his face as he pointed towards Yoongi, “he talked ill about Master, and he insulted hyung!”

“And that is his shame to bear,” Taehyung said, chuckling when he noticed how Yoongi’s shoulders stiffened, “don’t let others disgraceful behavior goat you into acting less. You are consorts to a member of the elite now, outranking most nobles. Your behavior must reflect that.”

“Who are you?” Jimin breathed, in awe of the beautiful self-confident man, who had immediately commandeered the room.

“I’m a former s-class escort,” Taehyung said, clasping the ID cuff around his wrist, marveling at the high quality their Master had chosen, “trained to be a consort since I was young.”

“Oh,” Jimin breathed, his eyes going wide, both Jungkook and Hoseok mirroring his expression. Yoongi huffed, his tails flicking behind him, but Taehyung ignored him.

“I take it none of you have had any education as a consort?”

They all shook their heads.

Taehyung sighed, but he sent them a gentle smile, “well in that case, unless Master hires a specific trainer for you, I’ll gladly help you train, and teach you how to be worthy of your new status.”

“You’d do that?” Hoseok asked as he jumped to Taehyung’s side, his ears perking up and his tail wagging in excitement.

Taehyung chuckled, incredibly endeared, “of course,” he ruffled Hoseok’s hair, cooing when his cheeks reddened.

The doors slid open, and Seokjin blew into the room like a sudden thunderstorm, his eyes blazing like lightning and his voice booming like thunder as he yelled at the staff, “my ID cuff, now!”

He snatched the thin metal band from a startled staff member, ignoring the other slaves in the room, their presence of no importance to him. He clasped the band around his wrist, his mind racing. He had to have been lying. That bastard couldn’t have been telling the truth! He blazed through the questionnaires, ignoring the attendant who came to take him away for modification.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance at the consent form. He scuffed at the idea, blasting through it, uncaring of his answers being wrong. He’d never consent to that monster touching him.

Taehyung observed Seokjin and his erratic movements, the deep line between his brows that cut into his skin. Jungkook and Hoseok glanced at each other, hesitant to approach after their bad experience with Yoongi. Jimin sat close to Seokjin and he could clearly feel the anger and haste that radiated off the beautiful slave. He wanted to offer comfort, assistance, but he feared it wouldn’t be welcome.

A loud frustrated shout from Seokjin made them all jump. Even Yoongi, who’d stubbornly been ignoring anything but his holoscreen, glanced towards him.

“Why can’t I access it yet,” Seokjin growled, rounding on their attendant. The young woman looked very unimpressed at Seokjin’s display of anger, which only served to edge him on even further.

“You’ll be able to access it as soon as full ownership has been transferred to your new Master, Seokjin,” the woman answered dutifully, “and since we’ve just received confirmation that Lord Kim has left the auction house, I’m sure the transfer will be completed shortly. Now, why don’t you follow me for your modification?”

Seokjin scuffed, but he stomped forward, following the woman to the adjacent room, his shoulders stiff and head held high.

Taehyung sighed, “you’ve chosen some unique finery, Master,” he mumbled.

“What was that?” Jungkook looked at him, his head tilted to the side, one long fluffy ear standing straight, the other hanging heavy down the side of his head, his nose twitching.

“Nothing much,” Taehyung deflected with a smile, “why don’t we go through the questionnaires together? I’ll help if you have any questions.”

Jungkook and Hoseok gladly agreed, crowding the redhead. Jimin carefully made his way over, worried that maybe, Taehyung didn’t want to help him as well, but a broad smile from him, made Jimin relax, and he sat down next to Hoseok, smiling bashfully at the two hybrids, who acknowledged him with small smiles of their own and curious looks.

Yoongi glanced at them from the corner of his eyes. How they sat together, Taehyung smiling and patiently answering their questions. The two branded hybrids looked at Taehyung with stars in their eyes, and Jimin smiled shyly at their friendly demeanors. Yoongi scuffed then went back to his holoscreen. He was better off on his own. He didn’t need help, least of all from someone like them.

Chapter Text

Namjoon stepped through the entrance to his company building, hurrying through the lavish entrance hall without really seeing anything, ignoring the employees that greeted him on his way. He stepped through the ID detectors, walking past the fountain, the large holoscreens that hovered above it displaying the company name, Crystal Moon, in big bold letters, their mission statement, and latest technological advancements, condensed into pleasing videos that spoke of their highly advanced graphical design team.

It was the epitome of grand, rich and elitist.

It was his life's work, his legacy, and most days he abhorred this glittering building and everything it contained.

He stepped into the glass elevator, the familiar beep of the ID scan barely noticeable, as the elevator started its ascend towards the 135th floor. His building wasn’t the tallest in Korea by any means, however, his building was the only skyscraper in the area, since he’d banned anyone else from building skyscrapers taller than 90th floors in the city, and allowed only parks, plazas, and low rise commercial buildings to be built in a radius of 2 kilometers from his office.

Years ago he’d managed to take over after the last lord of Southern Gyeonggi, thus becoming the new lord of the land south of Seoul stretching to the North and South Chungcheong provinces. The land had been impoverished and without value - never getting back on its feet after the war - but through clever investments, sheer luck, and enormous effort, he’d since then developed it into one of the richest provinces and Suwon had become the city with one of the highest land values in all of Korea outside of Busan the new capital.

He’d taken a poorly managed province with a destroyed capital, on the brink of bankruptcy and turned it into a flourishing hub for new technological advancements. And he’d done it all in a little under two decades.

Most of Suwon had been destroyed, its buildings left to fall into ruin, but he’d saved whatever historical buildings he could, and claimed what remained of the Hwaseong Fortress and Hwaseong Haenggung Palace for his residence.

He renovated what could be saved, then he reestablished the walls between the four surrounding gates and built old structures anew. Once the walls had been rebuilt he'd spent a long time establishing beautiful gardens and had hired master architects to build him an estate that honored the spirit of the Korean hanoks of old but had all the comforts of their modern age.

The elevator dinged as the doors slid open, and he stepped out into the reception area giving a brief nod to Sejeong.

He’d been lucky with her.

It had taken a long time for him to find a personal assistant capable enough to endure the challenges and demands that came with the position. Sejeong had proved to be up for the task, and he’d come to greatly appreciate her over the years. Most of all she knew when not to bother him, so she let him hurry past her without a single word.

Truth be told, she’d earned enough money ages ago to buy herself free - he’d even encouraged it, but she took pride in being his scribe and she enjoyed the work. Namjoon had promised her that she’d be able to keep her position, even if she bought herself free, but she’d declined, saying that being his slave, even if only as a scribe, was a great honor, so she had no wish to buy herself free.

Namjoon accepted that.

Truthfully it made no difference to him either way, but he wanted to make sure that she knew, that he’d keep her and appreciate her work no matter her status.

Namjoon sat down in his office chair with a long sigh, brushing his hand through his hair pushing it out of his eyes, his back to the long wall of glass. He’d seen the view one too many times for it to hold any interest to him.

At the proximity of his ID cuff, his workstation came into life, several holoscreens flickering into life in front of him, hovering above the table.

He glanced through the e-mails Sejeong had flagged down as important, sighing at the latest complaint from the city council - greedy little fuckers - before closing it all down, accessing his ID account. Immediately a notification appeared urging him to confirm his newest slave purchase and the subsequent transfer of their IDs to his ownership. He accepted the transfer with a smile, shooting a quick voice message to Sejeong asking her to reserve a spot at the best Mark Embedder available.

If they wanted him to flaunt his wealth, well, he better go all out, right?

He smiled as 6 new ID profiles linked up under the Consort tab, and giddy excitement spread in his stomach at the thought. God, he’d actually done it. He’d bought 6 consorts…

Deciding to honor his promise with Seokjin first, he quickly transferred the files he’d promised to his ID profile, and then he spent a long time going through their profiles, learning what he could about his new slaves.

He made mental notes of both Seokjin’s and Yoongi’s experience with running and managing businesses, planning to put it to good use.

He whistled when he saw that Taehyung had been educated by the Stigma Escort House, banishing the idea of hiring a tutor for the others. He’d be more than capable of handling their training.

He looked up videos of Jimin, Hoseok, and Jungkook performing, his jaw dropping in awe. Their style felt entirely different, but there was no denying their incredible talent. He’d have to create a space for them to practice. Maybe that hall he’d never truly found a usage for at the northern part of his property. It had gorgeous views of the surrounding gardens.

It’d be perfect.

He quickly sent off a message to his staff tasking them with getting it done.

He read through the Consent questionnaires he’d made them go through, and one of them especially had him raise a brow. He frowned. He’d have to address that as quickly as possible as well.

He busied himself with creating spending accounts for each of them, giving them access to the different areas of his properties, and putting in orders for basic items they’d need. Honestly, he could let his Chief of Staff handle this, but he had a lot of fun doing it himself, besides a part of him wanted to be the one to care for his consorts. It felt right.

He had to order them slave collars and proper ID bangles instead of the standard cuffs as well.

He looked through several online stores and their assortments. He finally settled on one, loving their designs, but how could he choose? He didn’t know what any of them liked yet. The easy solution for that of course would be to just take his consorts there and have them choose themselves.

He sent Sejeong another message asking her to schedule a visit.

Now he only needed to learn more about each of them, and in particular, uncover exactly what the new Lord Bang had been up to and what other lies he had spun. Good thing he had people employed that were masters at uncovering information.

-----

In the middle of getting boarded onto a hovercraft in the city of Busan, Seokjin heard his ID cuff ding, and he gasped. He pushed through the other slaves, uncaring of their grumbles and huffs of pain, and made his way to the farthest compartment seat. He flicked open his ID cuff’s holoscreen, setting it to private view, and navigated to the messages in a hurry, finding one from Namjoon.

His master.

Seokjin scuffed.

Jimin gingerly sat down in the compartment next to Seokjin’s watching his hurried angry movements with wide eyes. He glanced around the hovercraft feeling small and incredibly lost. He’d never been on a craft before, and the idea scared him. He shuffled a bit on his seat. He felt sensitive after his modification. The staff had told him that slight discomfort would be normal. He blushed like a tomato when they explained how he would now experience slick production when aroused and how he might experience sudden and excess slick the first week. His cheeks still burned at the memory.

This whole situation freaked him out.

Lord Kim - no, his master - he shuddered, a master - god he actually had a master… He never thought he’d find himself in this situation.

His master had seemed nice, kind even. Taehyung had explained how unusual it was for a master to ask his consorts to answer a Consent questionnaire, and how it spoke of a caring master. No matter how kind their master was though, Jimin knew what a consort’s duty was. Satisfying their master. He blushed, his hands shaking.

“Hey,” Taehyung sat down next to Jimin, squishing into the compartment that was truly only meant for one person, and wrapped an arm around the scared boy’s shoulders, “it’ll be alright.”

Jimin leaned against Taehyung with a small whimper, wrapping his arms around his waist and hiding his face against his chest. Taehyung cooed at him, running one hand gently along his back.

“Sweetie,” he hummed, “you said our Master promised not to force you didn’t you?”

Jimin nodded, tears stinging the corner of his eyes.

“Then trust him.” Taehyung squeezed him, “I know all this must be overwhelming for you, but trust me when I say that our Master will care enough about you to not force you. He’d never have asked us to go through a Consent questionnaire if he planned to ignore consent.”

“You said that,” Jimin whispered against Taehyung’s chest, “but I just… A lot of those buyers at the auction, the things they said,” he shuddered, “and the stories you hear. I… I’m scared.”

“I know sweetie,” Taehyung understood, he really did, “but I know people. I know what they are capable of, and Master is one of the good ones. He’ll be gentle and kind to you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jimin tightened his grip on Taehyung, squeezing his eyes shut with a little whimper when the hovercraft took off.

Hoseok yelped when he felt the craft take off, clutching onto Jungkook’s hand, whining when the bunny laughed at him, “don’t laugh at me,” he pouted, which only made Jungkook snicker.

“Don’t worry hyung,” he pulled Hoseok against him, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

“See, that’s nice and all, but I don’t think you can keep this thing from crashing.”

Jungkook laughed, “silly hyung, of course, I can. I can do anything, remember?”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, but Jungkook succeeded in making him smile.

“What do you think it’s gonna be like? Belonging to Master?”

Jungkook hummed, “better, hopefully. We won’t have to worry about being hungry or cold. We’ll have a safe home, won’t have to worry about thugs beating us up. We’ll maybe even get to go to parties, hyung!”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Hoseok smiled resting his head on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t, does it.”

Behind them, Yoongi scuffed at their conversation. So incredibly naive and simple. But what else could he expect from street performers with no respect for their place?

‘Know your place! You’re just a bastard!’

Yoongi shook the voice from his mind, clenching his hands into fists, forcefully keeping a low growl from emerging.

In the far end of the hovercraft, Seokjin stared at his holoscreen in disbelief.

There was just no way. No way this could be true. And yet, yet it was right here in front of his eyes. In black and white.

But no, he couldn’t believe this.

He wouldn’t.

Sejin- Sejin wouldn’t have lied to him.

He wouldn’t!

He glanced at the document again, and there was no way to deny that it was Lord Sihyuk’s testament, and just like Namjoon had said, it was about Seokjin. Lord Sihyuk had demanded that the ownership of Seokjin be transferred to Namjoon and asked him to make him his consort.

Seokjin wanted to scream and hit something.

A misunderstanding.

That could explain it.

Of course, Sejin could have misunderstood somehow, and maybe, maybe Namjoon had been involved in some way or facilitated Lord Sihyuk’s death in some way.

Yeah, that must be it.

Sejin hadn’t lied.

He wouldn’t.

And even if Lord Sihyuk trusted Namjoon, he still could have killed him.

And the video.

The video hadn’t proved anything, besides that Namjoon and Lord Sihyuk had been friendly. That Sihyuk had been a mentor of sorts for a younger Namjoon. A student killing their mentor wouldn’t be unthinkable at all.

So all in all this proved nothing.

Nothing at all.

Of course, it didn’t.

He already knew what Namjoon was capable of.

Taking him as his consort because Lord Sihyuk had asked it of him?

Please, more likely it was to mock him.

Take even more from him.

The hovercraft trembled, causing Hoseok and Jimin to squeak out. Taehyung chuckled at the boy who hadn’t left his arms even once during the flight.

“We’re just landing Jimin.”

Jimin hummed against him, but he didn’t reply.

Once the craft stood still on the ground, the staff gently guided them out of the craft and into lavish cars, which made even Taehyung impressed. The drive wasn’t long, and besides Seokjin and Yoongi who kept stubbornly quiet, the other fours kept up a quiet conversation. The car came to a brief stop outside an old gate, which made Hoseok’s eyes go huge.

“Is this from before the war?” he asked no one in particular, but Taehyung still answered.

“Lord Kim had his estate built on an old fortress area, and he incorporated the old structures. So it might very well be from before the war.”

Jimin, Hoseok, and Jungkook stared out the windows in wonder as the gate opened and they got let into Namjoon’s estate.

It felt like driving into an alternate dimension.

Sweeping gardens surrounded them, as well as beautiful wooden structures, interlaced with glass and decorated with enrapturing colors.

Yoongi’s ears and tail flicked as he watched the surroundings. He knew that a man as arrogant as Namjoon would be powerful, and a powerful man would need to have money, but never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined an estate like this.

He scuffed.

Only a true noble should have lands and riches like this, to ensure that it was managed well. Namjoon would end up messing up the natural order of things being this careless.

They drove up to a beautiful main building, a marriage of wood and glass inspired by the palaces of old. A small group of staff stepped out of the main entrance to welcome the new slaves.

An older man ran his eyes over their ragtag group, and whatever standard they were supposed to meet in his eyes, it was clear that he considered them below it.

“My name is Sangjin, and I’m the Chief of Staff. Now, follow me.”

He turned around, and the 6 consorts trailed behind him like a group of lost ducklings, staring at the open space they entered.

Hoseok clung onto Jungkook as he stared, his jaw dropping to the floor in wonder.

Jimin trailed right behind them, marveling at the water in the floor, the hanging plants - he’d never been in a house like this.

Taehyung seemed the least affected, walking behind Jimin with a half-smile on his face.

Seokjin and Yoongi walked next to each other in the rear, a silent agreement to ignore the other passed between them.

Sangjin let them through a set of glass doors, and Hoseok jumped when the cuff around his wrist let out a low beep, a beep that echoed from the other cuffs as well.

“What, they don’t have ID scans where you’re from, mutt?” Yoongi snickered, and Hoseok’s shoulders stiffened. He put a gentle hand on Jungkook’s arm, shaking his head at him, and reluctantly Jungkook let it go.

They entered a living room, comfortable chairs, and two couches centered around an L-shaped coffee table. The floor had been divided by small pools, water falling from the ceiling acting as room dividers, and plants had been dotted across the ample space. The end wall sported a huge flatscreen, and an endless amount of shelves filled with books of all kinds.

Sangjin stopped in front of the television, gesturing for them all to sit on the couches. They gingerly sat down, while the other members of staff stood behind the couches. Jungkook, Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung sat down together on one couch, Taehyung running his hand gently down Jimin’s back. Yoongi and Seokjin sat down on separate armchairs instead, staring down Sangjin who watched them silently with one brow raised.

He looked at Taehyung.

“Master Kim has informed me that you will be in charge of their schooling. Are you prepared to take on that responsibility?”

Taehyung bowed his head, “I am. I’m honored that the Master would trust me with something of such importance.”

“Good answer,” Sangjin acknowledged, “you’ll have your work cut out for you since I assume you are the only one here with basic schooling.”

“I am, however, Yoongi is from a noble family and Seokjin has worked as a scribe all his life, so I believe I will have good help.”

Both Yoongi and Seokjin scuffed, which only caused Taehyung to smile, while Sangjin watched them with apprehension.

“You are now members of Lord Kim’s household,” Sangjin said, his voice taking on a stern note, “and as such certain things will be expected of you. I’ll leave it to Consort Taehyung to educate you in what comes with your new-found status, while I’ll educate you in what will be expected of you as residents of this estate.”

He looked to each of them in turn, “I’ll lay out the rules and I expect you to follow them. Step out of line, and it will affect your standing.”

Sangjin paused, then continued with a low sigh, “Master Kim has granted each of you a personal spending account. You can access it through your cuff. Each month the same amount will be transferred to you, and you’re free to spend it however you wish. Your ID cuffs will grant you access to every building in the estate except for Master Kim’s quarters. Right now, you’ll not be able to leave the estate unless Master Kim or a guard accompanies you. Your time is your own and you can spend it however you want unless Master Kim asks you to accompany him.”

“Accompany him,” Yoongi scuffed, “that’s what we’re calling it?”

Sangjin looked at him entirely unimpressed, “despite what you might think of consorts, their masters also appreciate them for their company. Be it as a friend, a mental sparring partner, or just a plus one to a party. I’d expect a noble to know. Even just a bastard like you.”

Yoongi’s tail flicked and he narrowed his eyes at Sangjin, but he stayed silent even as anger vibrated in the air around him.

“You will be expected to accompany Master Kim should he wish for it,” Sangjin said, “and you will also be expected to be available for satisfying his needs.”

Yoongi huffed, but besides a quick glare, Sangjin ignored him.

“The Master insists that you use a list. You will sign yourself on that list, and he will pick from amongst you depending on who he fancy. If you are feeling ill, or have spent your day with the Master, you are allowed to leave your name off the list. Otherwise, your name is expected on that list, and if the Master calls for you, it is your duty to go to him.”

Jimin shook so badly that the other three on the couch could feel it, Hoseok and Jungkook glancing at him in worry. Taehyung hummed, and whispered, “breathe Jiminie.”

Unaware, or perhaps uncaring, Sangjin continued, “if the Master approaches you during the day, you will accompany him as long as your name is on the list. You are not allowed to turn him away.”

“And that’s quite enough,” Namjoon’s voice rang through the room, as he stepped through the glass doors. He’d only managed to catch the last few sentences of Sangjin’s speech, but a quick glance at his consorts and the way Jimin sad huddled against Taehyung told him all he needed to know. He sighed as he stepped forward, coming to a stop next to Sangjin, who gave him a respectful bow.

“Thank you, Sangjin, I’ll take it from here.”

“But my Lord,” Sangjin stammered, “there is no need for you to waste your valuable time on this. I’m more than capable of-”

“I know you’re capable, my old friend,” Namjoon put his hand on Sangjin’s shoulder and smiled at him, “but you know me. I like doing things differently, and from what I heard, different wasn’t what you were going for.”

Sangjin sighed, “very well, Master Kim,” and with a bow he stepped back, falling into line with the other household slaves behind the couches. Namjoon shook his head gently. One day Sangjin would give up on trying to make him appear like all the other nobles so Namjoon could gain acceptance, but he couldn’t fault the older slave for trying.

Namjoon gave himself a moment, to just take in the sight of the six of them here, in his space. He felt strangely excited and yet a part of him felt reprehensive. He had to remind himself that he was under no obligation to entertain them should this turn out to be a huge mistake. He could move them to another part of his estate and let them live a comfortable life in luxury if the worst came to pass.

Jimin’s eyes met his, wide and filled with fear like they had been at the auction house, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

“Now,” he clapped his hands together and smiled gently at Jimin, “let me explain how we’re going to do things.”

Jimin blinked.

Namjoon looked at each of them in turn, suppressing a chuckle at the glares both Seokjin and Yoongi directed at him. Taehyung looked mildly amused, while Jungkook and Hoseok looked curious if still a little reprehensive.

“As Sangjin has no doubt told you, you’ll get a monthly allowance, and you are free to move around on my estate as you see fit. I’ve ordered a few items of clothing for each of you, and rooms have been made ready for you. Once you’ve chosen your room, you’ll be given complete freedom to redesign it in your style with the help of my interior designers if you should wish.”

Hoseok and Jungkook looked at each other in amazement, then gaped at him, and Namjoon had to suppress a chuckle. He felt oddly protective of the two of them. They were his now, so a part of it came from his sense of responsibility towards them no doubt, but just like with Jimin, they had something about them that tugged at something inside him he thought had died along with his old self ages ago.

“From now on my estate is your home, and I want you to create your own space here.”

Seokjin scuffed, rolling his eyes. Sangjin stepped forward, but Namjoon raised his hand, stopping him. Sangjin fell back with a bow of his head.

Namjoon tilted his head, and crossed his arms, “no need to be rude Seokjin. At least be civil until we get a chance to talk.”

Seokjin puffed up his cheeks, and somehow Namjoon only saw an angry hamster. He bit down hard on his lip not to chuckle.

“Civil?” Seokjin scuffed, laughing in disbelief, “that’s rich coming from you.”

“Oh?” Namjoon raised a brow, “as far as I remember the one causing a scene at the auction house were you?”

“I- That’s-” Seokjin sputtered, his ears turning red, standing stark against his blond hair. Namjoon chuckled, and Seokjin glared at him, all the anger and hate he’d displayed earlier still visual in his eyes. Namjoon sighed. The files he sent him hadn’t swayed his opinion of him, but he honestly hadn’t thought that they would. Life-long loyalty can’t be swayed that fast.

The words Seokjin had slung at him, the accusation of his involvement in Sihyk’s death had rattled him at the time, and Seokjin had gotten under his skin. However, Seokjin had been Sihyuk’s treasured scribe. The boy he’d told him about with warmth in his voice and fond smiles. So he could only imagine how hard Sihyuk’s death had been on Seokjin, and if he’d been told Namjoon was the man behind it, he couldn’t even fault him for his hatred.

No matter what, he’d make sure he was taken care of even if Seokjin despised the very notion of it. He owed that to Sihyuk

“So,” Namjoon continued, “as I said, I want you to consider this your home from now on. If you are ever in need of something, I want you to let me or Sangjin know.”

They glanced towards the older man, most of them with reprehension. Namjoon laughed.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be under strict orders to listen to your needs and deliver them to me,” he caught Taehyung’s eyes, once again marveling at the beauty of them, “if you need me to hire you any outside help to assist with the tutoring, please let me know.”

“I’ll be fine, Master, I’m honored that you trust me with this.” Taehyung bowed his head at him, and Namjoon smiled.

“I know that you’re more than qualified. Until you judge them capable, I will not ask them to join me at events or appointments.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened a fraction, then he bowed his head, “understood, Master.”

Yoongi’s tail flicked in the air, and his eyes narrowed into slits, but he kept quiet, so Namjoon let him be. It didn’t surprise him that the proud hybrid disliked the idea of someone else deciding his status.

“Before coming here, I had each of you fill out a Consent form. I did that because to me your consent is important. Jimin-”

The silver-haired boy jumped at the sound of his name, looking at Namjoon with those wide scared eyes, his bottom lip trembling.

“-I promised you, that I wouldn’t force you. That I wouldn’t hurt you. I meant that. Just like Sangjin said I have created a list, however, you are never required to put your name on the list. The Consent form lets me know what you like and what you don’t like, the list is for me and you to know when sex is okay.”

Taehyung chuckled, tilting his head as he smiled at Namjoon, “you really are a king in your own way aren’t you?”

“I am,” Namjoon grinned oddly proud, “if your name is not on the list, I will not touch you unless you initiate. In the same way, I expect you to not initiate anything with me if my name is off the list.”

His consorts stared at him with wide eyes, most of them with open suspicion, except for Taehyung who had a bright smile on his face.

“You- you’re giving us a choice?” Jimin asked, his voice shaking.

“Of course I am, Angel, “ Jimin blushed at the endearment, and Namjoon had never seen something so lovely.

“Why?”

Namjoon turned to Yoongi who looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted an extra head.

“Why not?” Namjoon countered with a small shrug.

“Wh- you,” Yoongi shook his head, throwing out one arm in exasperation, “you literally own us.”

“I do,” Namjoon agreed easily, “but just because I own you, doesn’t mean I have the right to treat you like objects and disregard your wants completely. I wouldn’t even treat a dog like that.”

Yoongi gaped at him, which caused Taehyung to let out a small chuckle.

“The fact of the matter is, that while I own you, I want to treat you right. I’m not going to lie to you and say I’m not extremely attracted to every one of you, but forcing you,” he paused, catching the eyes of every single one of them in turn, “is something I’ll never do.”

“But,” Jimin hunched in on himself when they all turned to him, but he continued in a small hushed voice, “isn’t satisfying you sexually what we’re supposed to do? What use are we to you if we don’t?”

Jimin’s shoulders shook, and a soft smile spread on Namjoon’s face. He hated that Jimin was still so afraid. He would have to show him over time that he didn’t have to be afraid as long as he belonged to Namjoon.

“Become someone I can talk to.” Namjoon said, smiling when Jimin’s head whipped up and he stared at him with wide eyes, “become someone who will listen, who will be there when I just need to rant. Even if it’s just an act to please me. That to me will be worth a lot more than six gorgeous dolls to fuck.”

They all looked at him in silence, some of them contemplating, some of them doubtful.

Namjoon didn’t blame them.

According to the Slave Act consorts had no right to turn down their masters, as their bodies belonged to them, and could be demoted from the Consort Class if they did. Masters of course were supposed to respect their consort’s boundaries, and a consort could get their master fined and even banned from acquiring and owning consorts if they were found guilty of neglect and cruelty.

But it rarely happened.

Namjoon once had his free will taken away from him, decisions made for him about his own body without his consent. He never wanted to be the one to put someone else through that. He would make sure that all his consorts knew that within the limits and expectations of their status, they had full autonomy of their bodies and minds.

“You will be expected to attend gatherings with me, social events, business gatherings even, when Taehyung deems you ready, and play your part as a consort, but besides that, nothing will be expected of you.”

Taehyung smiled at him, “as I said, it’ll be an honor being your consort Master.”

Namjoon waved him off.

“I know this’ll all take some getting used to, and we will all need to get to know each other, but for now why don’t you let Sangjin show you your new rooms, and we’ll meet later for dinner. Seokjin, we can talk after dinner, okay?”

Seokjin gave a reluctant nod of his head.

Namjoon needed to have that talk with Seokjin, not only to prevent the slave from trying to strangle him in his sleep - not that he actually could with the cuff around his wrist, but still, but also to find out more about what that damn snake had been up to. He’d need time for that talk though, and right now he was both too tired and had too much to do.

The staff gestured for his consorts to follow them, and they all made to stand. Figuring he might as well address this now, Namjoon called out to Hoseok.

“Pup, would you come with me for a bit?”

Hoseok stopped in his tracks, a bright smile that shone like the sun on a clear day breaking on his face, “of course Master,” he chirped and all but bounced to his side. It made a smile turn up one corner of Namjoon’s lips as he took the familiar route towards his office, Hoseok silently following a couple of steps behind him. He stepped through the sliding doors to his office, sighing at the comfort of the wooden tones, the homeliness. He felt much more at ease here than at his penthouse office surrounded by cold glass and sleek polished walls.

A rustle of fabric made him turn around, to find Hoseok shrugging off his shirt. It took him a second, his mind distracted by the toned expanse of Hoseok’s chest and stomach, then Namjoon hurried forward and put a hand over Hoseok’s dainty one, pausing him from where he’d been about to open his pants.

“No pup,” he said gently, smiling softly at Hoseok, who blinked at him in confusion.

“Ah,” his ears twitched, “of course, how stupid of me, I should have waited,” he smiled and cocked his head to the side, “I didn’t think you’d want to undress me yourself, Master.”

“Pup,” Namjoon grabbed his wrist, pausing Hoseok’s movements, “I didn’t ask you to come in here to have sex.”

Hoseok’s brows furrowed, and he tilted his head, one of his ears raising “you didn’t?”

“No,” Namjoon shook his head, cupping his cheek and gently tracing the line of Hoseok’s brand with the back of his finger, “so just put your shirt back on, pup.”

Hoseok studied him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. When Namjoon just smiled at him, he shrugged.

“Okay,” he turned around, bending down to pick his shirt up from the floor, offering Namjoon a view of his soft tail and naked back. A soft gasp escaped Namjoon at the sight of Hoseok’s back. Several angry lines marred his golden skin, some new and red, others old and scarred over, crisscrossing the entire expanse of his back.

“Pup,” Namjoon breathed, reaching out to touch, but stopping himself, “what are those?”

“Hmm?” Hoseok straightened, then turned around, and upon seeing Namjoon’s direction of sight, he averted his eyes, shifting his weight, “I’m sorry for showing you something so unseemly. I'll cover them up immediately.”

He shrugged on his shirt, hugging himself suddenly looking terribly small, but he still wore a bright smile, “I understand if you don’t want me as your consort anymore after seeing this. But I promise I can still be good for you. I-”

“Pup,” Namjoon cut him off, reaching for him and Hoseok flinched back. Namjoon froze, his hand hanging in the air between them. He clenched his hand and pulled it back to his side with a small cough.

“Please, pup, just sit down, and we’ll talk, okay? I’m still keeping you. Don’t worry.”

Hoseok blinked at him, then with a small nod of his head, he let Namjoon guide him into the chair on the opposite side of the desk from Namjoon’s.

Namjoon sat down in his chair, a gentle smile that made his dimples show spreading on his face when he noticed how tense and small Hoseok looked. He’d have to be careful with this.

“Now pup, tell me who hurt you?”

Hoseok cocked his head to the side, his ears twitching, “hurt me?”

“Your back pup,” Namjoon explained gently.

“Ah,” Hoseok smiled, “you don’t have to worry about that Master, it’s nothing,” he waved his hand as if dismissing the subject entirely, “the troupe leader just got angry at me sometimes, when I wasn’t good enough. I deserved it though, I’m just a dumb dog after all.”

Hoseok smiled at him, bright and cheerful, and the sight of it made Namjoon’s heart hurt.

“He whipped you?”

“Of course Master,” Hoseok nodded, “that’s the only way to make someone like me learn.”

“I see,” Namjoon hummed, tapping open the holoscreen on his ID cuff, shooting off another message to his investigators asking them to look into one more person, and then he sent Hoseok’s latest scan to his doctor asking him to check if he needed any immediate care. The auction house would have told him if he did, but he still wanted to make sure.

“Well, no one will be whipping you as long as you belong to me,” Namjoon said as he closed his holoscreen, picking up a holoboard instead and pulling up Hoseok’s consent form.

“Really?” Hoseok’s brow furrowed, “but what if I do something wrong?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure?” Hoseok cocked his head, his ears twitching in unease.

“Very,” Namjoon put down the holoboard between them, “and I’ll show you right now.”

Hoseok’s entire body tightened, his ears flattening on top of his head, and he looked at him with wide scared eyes.

“Did- did I do something wrong?”

“Hmm,” Namjoon hummed, “not wrong per se. My guess is you were just trying to be a good pup in the way you’ve been taught to, but-”

Hoseok started trembling, and Namjoon hated that he was the cause of it, but it was necessary if he wanted to change Hoseok’s behavior.

“-you forgot that you have a new Master now, and tried to be good in a way your troupe leader would have liked.”

Hoseok eyes widened in understanding, “oh…” he leaned forward, an urgency to him, ”so how do I be good for you Master?”

Namjoon smiled and pushed the holoboard with the Consent questionnaire on it towards Hoseok, “by being honest.”

Hoseok looked down at the holoboard, his ears twitching as he took it.

“I don’t understand?” He studied Namjoon’s face, “Master please, what did I do wrong?”

“Pup,” Namjoon sighed gently, “you gave consent to every single thing listed in the form.”

“Of course,” Hoseok tilted his head, “if it’s something Master wants I’m okay with it. I want to be good.”

“That’s not the point of this form pup, and that’s not you being honest.”

“Really?” Hoseok furrowed his brow, “then how should I fill it out.”

“You need to fill it out according to what you like, what you want.”

Hoseok’s brow furrowed even further, and a small pout appeared on his lips.

“If you don’t know, you don’t have to fill it out yet, or you can mark everything as soft limits and change it as you figure out what you like and don’t like.”

“But,” Hoseok spoke through his pout, “what I like, what I want isn’t important.”

Namjoon wanted to throttle Hoseok’s troupe leader. He smiled and reached across the table, this time Hoseok didn’t flinch back at his touch.

“It is to me, pup. Just like I won’t touch you if your name isn’t on the list, I don’t want to do something you’d dislike or would hurt you when I’m with you.”

Hoseok deflated, looking lost and confused, “I’m sorry Master. I’m just a dumb dog aren’t I. I’ll do better. I’ll- I’ll fill out the form again in the way you told me to.”

“Pup,” Namjoon squeezed his hand gently, “you’re not a dumb dog.”

Hoseok blinked, tilting his head to the side, “I’m not?” he mumbled incredulously.

“No pup,” Namjoon leaned back in his chair, a ping alerting him to a message from his doctor. He sighed in relief when he read that Hoseok wouldn’t need any care, but he recommended some pain blockers since from what he could see, Hoseok appeared to be in a lot of pain.

Namjoon sighed, of course, he hadn’t said anything.

He stood, and Hoseok immediately jumped to his feet. He gestured for Hoseok to follow him, and he did, falling into step behind him. He sent a message to Sangjin asking for some pain blockers to be delivered to Hoseok’s room.

He walked through the lavish mansion, the sights familiar and not interesting to him, but small gasps kept escaping Hoseok, and when he glanced back at him, the hybrid looked around with wide sparkling eyes. Namjoon bit down a chuckle, but Hoseok still heard him, his head whipping towards him, and a blush spread on his cheeks.

“Sorry Master,” he mumbled, averting his eyes to the floor. Namjoon only shook his head with a small smile, leading Hoseok along to the room that would be his. He stopped in front of the door, gesturing for Hoseok to go through. Hoseok raised his brow at him, hesitating in front of the frosted glass sliding doors, before he stepped forward, his cuff beeping as the doors opened.

To Namjoon the room was nothing special. It offered a view of the gardens and had the necessities a person would need. A bed, adjacent bathroom, walk-in closet. Normal things you’d expect to see. However Hoseok turned around, tears streaming down his face, small sniffles escaping him, “this- this is mine?”

“Of course pup,” Namjoon walked into the room, heading for the bathroom to grab the pain blockers, “you can decide which IDs will be able to unlock your door, and this space is yours to do with what you want.”

Hoseok stood in the middle of the room, his body shaking as he looked around the room. He caught Namjoon’s eyes, “thank you,” he whispered, “Master I-”

The door beeped, and Jungkook stepped through the doors, his ears twitching on top of his head.

“Hyung,” he grinned, and seconds later he barreled into Hoseok’s side, and the two of them clutched onto each other, Hoseok sniffling in Jungkook’s arms, before he pushed away.

“Master says all of this is mine,” Hoseok said in complete disbelief, and Jungkook grinned.

“I know hyung, I got a room too.”

“You did?” Hoseok turned and looked at Namjoon with wide eyes, “Master, thank you so much.”

He fell onto his knees pressing his forehead to the ground, pulling a startled Jungkook down with him.

“Thank you,” he sniffled, Jungkook copying him seconds later.

Namjoon studied them for a second, then he sighed and crouched down in front of them.

“You don’t need to thank me for this you know. You’re mine. It’s my responsibility to take care of you,” he shifted his hand through Hoseok’s hair, smiling when he raised his head, tutting at the tears in his eyes.

“Jungkook,” the bunny looked up, his nose twitching as he sniffled. Namjoon pushed the bottle of pain blockers towards him.

“Make sure your hyung eats one,” Jungkook straightened, sitting back on his heels, as he eyed the bottle, his eyes alight with suspicion. Hoseok straightened as well, glancing between Namjoon, the bottle, and Jungkook.

Namjoon turned it around, showing Jungkook the label, “it’s pain blockers. He needs it. For his back.”

Hoseok stiffened, and Namjoon glanced at him, his brows rising in surprise when he saw panic, guilt, and shame flash across Hoseok’s features.

“His back,” Jungkook’s eyes went wide, and he looked at Hoseok, who refused to meet his eyes “what’s wrong with your back? Hyung don’t tell me...”

Hoseok didn’t answer, his eyes still glued to the ground, but his shoulders shook.

“Master,” Jungkook looked at him, “did- is he hurt?”

“You’ll have to ask him, bun.” Namjoon said, patting his hair, “now, have him eat one of these, and take care of him, okay?”

Jungkook took the bottle with a small nod of his head, and Namjoon stood.

“I’ll see you for dinner later. Make yourself at home and relax until then.”

With a sigh, Namjoon went back to his office, his talk with Hoseok and images of his scarred back churning around inside his head. Once again he’d been reminded of how much he hated humanity.

Chapter Text

Namjoon was supposed to be working.

To be fair, he had finished all the most pressing things on his list, and he’d delegated most of his workload over the next couple of days to his employees, deciding to make use of his privileges as the owner of the damn company and lord of the godforsaken district; not that the title meant much besides more work most days. He wanted to have as much time as possible to spend with his consorts over the next couple of days - preferably the whole week though that might be a naive dream.

Besides that he really hadn’t spent much time the last couple of hours on actual work.

In his defense he had a lot of reasons to be distracted.

6 exciting reasons to be exact.

His conversation with Hoseok kept replaying in the back of his mind, anger simmering in the depths of his stomach. The moment he managed to find any information on that waste of space troupe leader, he’d make sure to send the autorites after him and get everything shut down.

And get the lowlife put in jail.

He couldn’t help but browse the myriad of available clothing stores, adding article after article to his shopping basket, imagining how stunning his new consorts would look in them if they chose to wear them.

A report from his investigators flew into his mailbox and he spent a good hour going through it.

It pertained to Yoongi and his household - a lesser noble family that owned a luxury tea brand. Namjoon was more of a coffee drinker, so the name didn’t mean much to him, although he vaguely remembered hearing about the death of the previous head of the family, but he ordered a couple different variants, figuring it might make Yoongi feel more at home if he had some tea from home to chose from.

One note made him raise his brow in surprise, a low whistle of approval escaping him.

It would seem that the now deceased lord had entrusted Yoongi and his trueborn son with creating new tea brands, and managing their own branches of the company. Yoongi had done a phenomenal job, building a solid branch that stood on it’s own even now.

It made sense why he’d been recommended for the scribe class.

It did make him wonder why Yoongi had been put up for sale.

A typical case of sibling rivalry perhaps?

Not that it mattered much to him in the long run, unless of course Yoongi chose to share that part of himself with Namjoon one day. It did suggest that he could give him some responsibilities in his company if he should wish for it. Maybe even help Yoongi build and run a tea brand of his own if he should want to.

A call popped up on his screen, interrupting him from adding yet another piece of expensive jewelry to his shopping bag.

Namjoon stared at the callerID in complete disbelief.

Why would he be calling? Especially considering he’d ignored each and every attempt Namjoon had made to contact him over the years.

Whatever the reason he had to seize this change.

With his heart hammering in his chest, the importance of this call making his fingers shake, Namjoon accepted the call.

“Choi Minho, what an honor.”

------

Reluctantly Yoongi made his way into the dining hall, dragging his feet, tail swishing in annoyance behind him. He’d spent his free time this afternoon going through the virtual blueprints of Namjoon’s residence and reading every article he could find on his new master.

He scoffed.

Lord Kim.

A child from the gutter. A literal nobody. And he dared play at being a noble?

No wonder the lavish house and the ridiculously big grounds. Clearly, he was compensating, overdoing it in his desperation to be accepted like a real noble.

Not that he ever would.

Yoongi caught sight of the other consorts already seated at the table, his attention caught by the two other hybrids and his eyes narrowed.

Hoseok sat huddled against Jungkook, his ears droopy and small sniffles leaving him.

“Don’t tell me,” Yoongi drawled, one corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk, “you threw yourself at master like a bitch in heat and he made you cry?”

Hoseok’s entire body stiffened, his shoulders hunching forward as the rest of them whipped their heads toward Yoongi. Yoongi sat down on the nearest chair, opposite of the two hybrids, completely unimpressed by the glare Jungkook threw his way.

Jungkook wanted nothing more than to plant his fist in the middle of Yoongi’s haughty face and wipe off that intolerable smirk, but once again Hoseok held him back, placing a shaking hand on his wrist.

“Master didn’t touch me,” Hoseok mumbled, refusing to lift his eyes from the shiny surface of the table.

“Aww, and that’s why you’re crying,” Yoongi mocked him, “master didn’t want you, boohoo. Pathetic useless mutt.”

Hoseok visibly flinched, a high-pitched whine leaving him.

“That’s enough, Yoongi!” Namjoon snapped, staring down the cat hybrid as he whipped his head towards Namjoon, clearly startled by his sudden appearance. Namjoon had caught the beginning of Yoongi’s little speech from out in the hallway and decided to listen in to see where it’d go.

A flash of guilt then Yoongi’s eyes turned hard and his expression haughty, which only served to annoy Namjoon further. He glanced at Hoseok who hid against Jungkook’s side, his slender shoulders shaking, as he resolutely kept his gaze down. Jungkook on the other hand glared at Yoongi with unbridled anger in his eyes, and Namjoon couldn’t fault him.

“Mind telling me what prompted that little outburst of yours, Yoongi?” Namjoon asked as he sat down at the end of the table.

Yoongi crossed his arms defensively staring Namjoon down.

“No,” he simply said, his ears pulling back atop his head.

“He keeps attacking hyung for no reason master,” Jungkook said, glaring at the cat hybrid while holding Hoseok closer, “he did it at the auction center and when we just arrived here.”

Namjoon sighed as he gestured for his keep to bring in dinner, “I’m honestly disappointed in you Yoongi.”

Yoongi bristled, his tail standing rigid, but before he could protest Namjoon cut him off.

“I don’t expect for all of you to get along or even come to like each other. Though if you do grow to like each other I’d be pleased, especially since I have no plans of enforcing a ranking system amongst you.”

He saw how Yoongi’s eyes widened a fraction, noticed the barely-there smile on Taehyung’s face, the confused scrunch of Jungkook’s nose, the distrust on Seokjin’s face.

“However, I do expect you to be nice and if nothing else professional with each other. I will not tolerate you talking like that to someone else in this household.”

“As if you really care,” Yoongi huffed, his ears pulling back on his head, “you only care about this because that mutt is your little favorite! We all know why you asked him to come with you! Won’t touch us! Hah! I bet you couldn’t wait to get your hands on him, and he probably loved every second of it! Mutts like him are-”

“Enough!” Namjoon cut Yoongi off, fighting hard to keep his temper and his voice down. Hoseok had all but disappeared into Jungkook’s side, and the bunny looked like he was seconds away from vaulting over the table and strangling Yoongi.

Yoongi rolled his eyes at him, sitting back with a scowl, acting like a petulant child.

Well then, he’d get a child’s punishment.

“Go to your room,” Namjoon said, staring the cat down.

“Wha-” Yoongi sputtered, then he snapped, “I’m not a child!”

“Well you are behaving like one, so I’ll treat you like one,” Namjoon said, looking away from him, slowly starting to eat his food.

“You- you- you can’t just-”

“I can, and I will,” Namjoon raised his brow at Yoongi, “as you pointed out earlier I literally own you. Now, go to your room, and you can stay there until you decide to act like an adult and behave.”

Yoongi’s fair skin flushed a deep red. He sprung to his feet, his chair clattering behind him as it flipped over, the noise loud in the silent tense room. A low growl sounded in the back of his throat as he stared Namjoon down, but Namjoon ignored him, his attention on his plate of food.

“Treating me like a child, won’t change the fact that you’re the one pretending to be something you’re not!”

“Your room, Yoongi. Now.” Namjoon said as he took a bite of his steak.

Yoongi hissed, then he stormed off, a low beep of his ID cuff and then the sound of the sliding doors closing behind him. With a flick of his hand, Namjoon brought up a screen that hovered above the table. He made a couple of quick selections and a map of the house appeared with a little dot showing Yoongi’s placement.

“You- you didn’t have to do that, Master,” Hoseok said, his voice quiet and timid, his eyes wet despite his bright smile, “I don’t mind.”

“Well, I mind,” Namjoon said, glancing at the screen, closing it when he saw that Yoongi had indeed gone to his room, “he has a right to be angry at his situation, but I will not condone him lashing out at any of you. I will not condone any one of you lashing out at each other like that.”

He looked at them all in turn waiting for them to acknowledge what he’d said with small nods of their heads.

“Now, let's eat our food before it goes cold.”

Namjoon pointedly dug into his food, and soon the others followed along. It didn’t stay quiet for long.

“Did you mean it?”

Namjoon looked up, finding Taehyung studying him from across the table with those beautiful eyes of his, his head slightly tilted.

“Did I mean what?”

Taehyung smiled, “that you don’t plan on enforcing a ranking system.”

“Ah,” Namjoon took a sip of his wine, “I did.”

Taehyung’s eyes sparkled, “and why is that?”

“Because a ranking sparks competition amongst you, makes you unequal, and I have no interest in either. The world is unfair and those of a higher rank treat others horribly. I want none of that in my home. I want this home at least to be as fair as possible and for all to be treated right, no matter their rank.”

Namjoon leaned back, took another sip of wine, suppressing a chuckle at the wide-eyed stares directed at him.

“Does that answer your question, Taehyung?”

“It does,” Taehyung bowed his head, “thank you, Master.”

“For?”

“Everything.”

Namjoon raised a brow at him, but Taehyung only smiled widely, before going back to his food. They ate in silence for a while, Namjoon acutely aware of Seokjin’s eyes boring into him, but he ignored him. Whatever he had to say could wait until later. He’d already dealt with one unruly consort for the night.

Which reminded him.

He called Sangjin over, “bring some food up to Yoongi’s room later. He’ll probably be too proud to eat it, but I’d prefer it if he didn’t have to go hungry.”

“Very well Master,” Sangjin said, stepping back with a low bow.

He went back to his food, his mind wandering back to the invitation Choi Minho had extended to him earlier. He glanced at Jimin who ate his food in silence, eyes darting between them all, looking nervous. Could he really ask this of him?

“Hyung, you have to eat,” Jungkook’s hushed whisper caught his attention. Hoseok had his gaze fixed on his lap, his food sitting completely untouched on the table. Jungkook glanced at Namjoon, worry clear on his face.

“Pup,” Namjoon said.

Hoseok reluctantly looked up, his ears low and his eyes glassy.

“I know you probably don’t feel like it right now, and you don’t have to finish it all, but please eat something.”

Hoseok glanced down at his food, then back at Namjoon.

“I’m allowed?”

Silence fell on the table, and Namjoon’s brow furrowed.

“Of course you’re allowed pup,” Namjoon said, utterly confused. He glanced at Jungkook who looked heartbroken.

“Oh,” Hoseok said, turning his attention to his food, his voice slow and almost robotic, “thank you, Master.”

He grabbed his cutlery, his movements slow and without any feeling as he moved small pieces of food to his mouth.

“In the future, you don’t have to wait for my permission, pup,” Namjoon said carefully watching Hoseok, who barely acknowledged him, “you’re free to eat anything and any time you want.”

Hoseok gave a small nod, “I’ll make sure to remember that Master.”

Namjoon glanced at Jungkook, his brows furrowing at the expression of sadness on the bunny’s face as he watched Hoseok.

Hoseok took another languid bite of his food, and Namjoon decided to let it go for now, though he filed the knowledge away for later. The most important thing was that Hoseok was eating.

Namjoon took another sip of wine and leaned back in his chair.

“Tomorrow I’m taking you to get your marks,” Namjoon said, all five of them giving him their full attention, “and after that, we’ll go and get you an assortment of collars and ID bangles.”

“You’ll be joining us, Master?” Taehyung asked.

“Yes of course,” Namjoon said, “I’ve taken the week off to spend as much time as possible with all of you so I can get to know you.”

Seokjin’s brows rose, then he scoffed and rolled his eyes. Namjoon ignored him.

“I also plan on taking you shopping for clothes and anything else you might want or need. I know all your measurements have been registered to your ID’s, but going shopping for stuff is a lot more fun than just ordering it online I think.”

“An old-fashioned shopping spree,” Taehyung clapped his hands with glee, “how fun.”

Namjoon chuckled, “hopefully it will be.”

He glanced at Jimin, his urge to protect the boy fighting tooth and nail with the logical part of his brain that knew that he had to grasp this opportunity.

He sighed.

“Jimin, Taehyung, I have a specific favor that I want to ask of the two of you.”

Taehyung tilted his head; curious, while Jimin looked guarded.

“I know I promised you that the first week nothing would happen.”

Jimin immediately paled, his eyes widening in panic.

“NO! No, not like that,” Namjoon hurried to explain, “I still won’t touch you, don’t worry. I meant having you accompany me to events.”

Jimin exhaled in obvious relief, and color returned to his cheeks. Namjoon made a note of his reaction though, deciding then and there not to approach the boy the first couple of months, even if he found his name on the list.

“Oh, you need us to accompany you to an event, Master?”

“Yes and no,” Namjoon said smiling at Taehyung, “I need Jimin to accompany me,” Jimin startled with a low gasp, “and I need you to prepare him for it.”

“I see,” Taehyung furrowed his brow in thought, “it should be possible,” he ran his eyes over Jimin appraising the boy who looked uncomfortable under the level of scrutiny, “I’m sure I can teach him enough so that his behavior won’t reflect badly on you, Master. However, I’m not sure if he’s ready for this.”

“I know,” Namjoon had thought as much, and if the circumstances were different he wouldn't ask this of Jimin already, “and that’s why you’re free to say no, Jimin.”

Jimin worried at his full lower lip with his teeth, “I...Master why me? I’m sure Taehyung would be much more suited for this. I’ll just embarrass you,” he looked down, a flush on his cheeks.

“You could never embarrass me, angel,” Namjoon said gently, suppressing a chuckled when Jimin’s head snapped up, his cheeks heated to a delicious red, “and I would have taken Taehyung if not for the fact, that the noble who invited me specifically asked me to bring you.”

Jimin’s eyes went huge and he stammered, “m- me?”

Namjoon nodded.

“Would you tell me which noble, Master?” Taehyung asked, a myriad of different emotions running through his eyes. From what he’d learned about the consort so far, Namjoon was fairly sure that Taehyung wouldn’t like the answer.

“Choi Minho.”

Taehyung’s face settled into a blank mask, but not before Namjoon managed to catch a flash of repulsion. He didn’t blame him.

“Master, I apologize if what I’m about to say is out of line, but with all due respect, he’s a collector of consorts with a less-than-favorable reputation. If he’s asking for Jimin by name, I worry what his intentions are.”

Namjoon glanced at Jimin, who’d grown progressively paler with every word Taehyung spoke, his eyes wide and full of fear again.

“I know,” Namjoon said, “and as for his intentions I’m sure that he’ll offer me a trade to acquire Jimin.”

Jimin let out a low breathy, “what?”

“Which, of course, I won’t let happen,” Namjoon found Jimin’s eyes, and held his gaze, “I promised you that I’d take care of you. I plan to honor that promise, angel.”

“I apologize for saying this Master, but then why go?”

For the first time since he’d laid eyes on Taehyung, he now regarded Namjoon with a closed-off expression; something almost like disappointment in his eyes.

How much could he tell them? For now, the less they knew the better.

“Something happened to me in the past,” Namjoon said, his smile strained as memories of the past threatened to flood his mind, “and Choi has information that I need.”

Taehyung’s brows furrowed.

“I’ve been trying to get close to him for years, but he’s ignored me every single time. This is the first chance I’ve gotten,” Namjoon sighed and took another sip of his wine, “I don’t like the idea of using you as a tool Jimin,” he smiled at Jimin who tentatively returned it; although it was barely a small twitch of the corners of his lips, Namjoon still saw it as a small win, “but if I don’t grasp this opportunity I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to get the information I seek.”

“It’s this important to you, and yet you’re still giving him a choice?” Seokjin sounded incredulous, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Of course I am,” Namjoon leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, “I told you that I wouldn’t be taking you to events with me before Taehyung deemed you ready, and even then you would still be able to say no depending on the circumstances. I don’t like asking this of Jimin,” he sent the wide-eyed boy a quick smile, “especially before Taehyung has had the chance to train him, and I wouldn’t if not for the importance of it.”

Seokjin’s eyes narrowed even further, “you-”

“I’ll go,” Jimin’s low but clear voice cut Seokjin off. He stared right at Namjoon looking scared but determined. Namjoon felt a surge of warmth and gratitude for his beautiful angel.

“You’re sure?”

Jimin nodded.

“You don’t have to angel.”

“I understand Master, but I…you got me out of that place, and I’m grateful for that, so I want to do this.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon said, a broad smile making his dimples pop, “I promise that I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll keep you safe just like I promised you.”

“And when you don’t, that’ll show all of these fools exactly who you are,” Seokjin scoffed as he took a sip of his wine, a haughty smile on his lips.

If Namjoon was religious he might have prayed for patience, but he was not, so he had to make do with a long inhale and slow exhale of breath through his nose.

“And when I do, will you finally stop antagonizing me? It’s getting tiring really.”

Seokjin only huffed in reply, but honestly, Namjoon hadn’t expected an answer.

“How much time will I have to prepare him, Master,” Taehyung asked, the look of disappointment no longer present, which relieved Namjoon.

“The party is at 8 o’clock the day after tomorrow.”

“I see,” Taehyung's brows furrowed, “that is a lot faster than I would have liked, but it should be possible. Does it have a theme?”

“Yes,” Namjoon nodded, “it’s a costume ball. I’ll forward you the invitation and any information about the party I’ve been able to find,” Namjoon accessed his holoscreen, transferring the files to Taehyung's ID page.

“Then, if Master will excuse us, I wish to start Jimin's training immediately.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded, “of course, if Jimin is okay with starting training immediately.”

“I’m used to training hard all the time,” Jimin said with a tentative, “I’m okay with it.”

“Very well. You’re excused,” Namjoon said, “just don’t overdo it.”

“I’ll get him ready in time, without overdoing it Master. I promise.” Taehyung said as he stood, determination making his green eyes blaze.

Namjoon smiled, “thank you.”

Taehyung bowed gracefully, Jimin next to him startling and clumsily copying his movement. Taehyung straightened and the two of them walked from the room, Jimin scurrying along behind Taehyung, looking worried and a bit lost already.

Namjoon sighed.

He really hoped this worked out.

It surprised him that Taehyung wanted to work so hard for his sake, or maybe, it was for Jimin’s sake? Taehyung seemed to have taken a liking to the shy boy already. Just like Namjoon had. It made sense that two souls who’d been jaded by the life of the elites would be drawn to an innocent boy like Jimin.

“Well then,” Namjoon said, turning his attention back to the table and the three boys who were still seated with him, “dessert?”

He gestured for his keep, and several plates of small cakes were put on the table. It made him happy to see how Hoseok’s ears perked up at the sight of the small treats, a bit of life coming back to his eyes.

Seokjin didn’t touch the cakes, just sat with his arms crossed, glaring at Namjoon.

Hopefully, their talk could improve his behavior or Namjoon was going to run out of patience really soon.

“Master, can I ask you something?”

Namjoon looked up in surprise at Jungkook’s quiet question. Jungkook had an arm around Hoseok’s shoulders, the pup looking between the two of them, a cake he'd been in the middle of eating frozen against his lips.

“Of course, bun.”

“Will you allow hyung and me to keep dancing?”

Hoseok’s eyes widened, and he put down his cake, giving Namjoon his undivided attention.

Namjoon chuckled, “of course. You two and Jimin are so talented it would be a crime to keep you from dancing. Besides, it's something you clearly love. Why would I stop you from doing it?”

“Oh,” Jungkook said, his voice quiet, “I just thought maybe you wouldn’t like your consorts spending time on dance.”

“I want you to spend time on whatever makes you happy, bun,” Namjoon said, “I asked my staff to turn one of my empty buildings into a dance studio, so you’ll have a place to dance in a couple of days.”

“You, you did that? For us?” Jungkook asked, eyes wide.

“Yes, even the small snippets I saw at the auction house made me so impressed. I’d love to be able to see you dance one day.”

“We’ll dance for you Master,” Hoseok said, “it would be an honor to have Master watch us.”

Namjoon chuckled, “then I’ll make sure to come by and watch you practice as often as I can.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened, “no Master, you shouldn’t waste your time on that. We should only show you beautiful performances.”

“Pup,” Namjoon smiled, “coming by from time to time and just sitting in silence while watching you practice is more than enough for me. It would make me happy, and give me a chance to relax from my busy life. If you want to perform for me, I’d love to watch, but you don’t have to show me only perfection all the time.”

“Oh,” Hoseok’s brows furrowed, and he looked so adorable that Namjoon couldn’t help but smile.

“Don’t worry about impressing me so much, pup. It’s just nice having some company in this big empty house.”

Seokjin scoffed.

“You’re incredibly cynical, little scribe, and unless you have something positive to add to the conversation, please just stay quiet for now. You think you can do that?”

Seokjin puffed up his cheeks, looking every bit an angry hamster yet again. He turned his head away with a hmph, a flash of red on the tip of his ears.

Embarrassed, huh?

Cute.

“But,” Hoseok chewed on his lower lip, “I- we have to do something for you, right?” he wrung his hands, “you’re treating us so well, and I- we should do something for you in return…right?”

Hoseok looked almost pleading.

Clearly, Namjoon needed to give Hoseok something to do for him - his Master - if he wanted to help Hoseok feel more at ease in Namjoon’s home and in his new position.

“You will be, pup. I told you earlier, you’ll become a companion for me and join me at events when you’re ready. However, there is something only you could do for me.”

Hoseok tensed, leaning forward, his ears twitching atop his head, “really? Please tell me, Master.”

Namjoon hummed holding back a small grin, “I always have such a hard time calming down in the evenings. Watching tv, reading the news, nothing really works.”

Hoseok brows furrowed.

“I’ve heard that petting a dog really helps calm anxiety, and can greatly increase your mental health.”

Hoseok tilted his head to the side, clearly confused.

“Pup,” Namjoon asked, a gentle smile on his lips, “would you let me pet your hair and ears at night when I need help to calm down? It would help me a lot.”

“It would?” Hoseok perked up, his tail thumping against the chair.

“Yes, pup,” Namjoon chuckled, “you’d be helping me a lot. Jungkook can even join us sometimes if he wants to.”

“Okay, I’ll do it, Master. I want to help.”

“I know you do,” Namjoon hummed.

“Do you need to pet my hair tonight?” Hoseok asked, tail wagging behind him in excitement, and Namjoon had to hold back a giggle, a huge smile settling on his face.

“Maybe not tonight pup, I need to talk to Seokjin, and we might take a long time, but tomorrow I think I’d like to.”

Hoseok broke into a bright smile, “okay. I’ll do my best tomorrow, Master.”

“Thank you, pup,” Namjoon said, gesturing for the keep to clean away their plates, “now Seokjin, let’s go to my office and talk.”

“Finally,” Seokjin grumbled, pushing to his feet with a huff. Namjoon suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

“And the two of you are free to spend the night however you like. Maybe you can look into decorating your rooms?”

Pure excitement shone on the two hybrids' faces, and they eagerly chirped ‘yes, Master’, bowed, and then took off in a run towards their rooms, Namjoon happy to see Hoseok’s tail wagging as he went.

A scoff sounded from behind him, and Namjoon quickly decided that it was becoming one of the most annoying sounds he knew.

“Follow me,” he bit out, marching off without checking if Seokjin was following him. He knew he would be. When he entered his office, Namjoon went straight for the old school alcohol cabinet, fishing out one of his cheaper but stronger whiskeys. Most of the elite preferred alcohol patches and sipping on sugary drinks, but as with most everything else, Namjoon went his own way.

He poured a very generous glass of whiskey, half-heartedly offering Seokjin a glass.

He only got a glare in response.

Oh lord, he definitely needed alcohol to get through this conversation.

He sat down with a heavy sigh, taking a big gulp of the fiery liquid, groaning in content as it burned its way through his throat. Seokjin took his seat in the same chair Hoseok had sat in hours beforehand.

“So,” Namjoon said, ice clinking against the sides of his glass, “tell me, why do you think I killed your old master, little scribe.”

Seokjin’s brows furrowed, “is this a trick question?”

“No?”

“I don’t think you killed my Master, I know you did. Master Sejin told me and he has no reason to lie.”

“Is that so,” Namjoon had to work very hard to keep his anger down; it wasn’t Seokjin’s fault that he’d been lied to. Once Namjoon thought only good things about Sejin as well, “and pray tell, why would I kill Lord Bang?”

“You know why,” Seokjin scoffed, “he had power and money that you wanted for yourself.”

“That’s an interesting theory,” Namjoon took another big sip of whiskey and leaned back in his chair, “it has a big flaw though.”

Seokjin narrowed his eyes at him, “which flaw?”

“I didn’t get any of his power or money. Sejin did.”

Seokjin bristled, “only because he managed to prove that the accusations against my Master were bogus! If he hadn't, my Master's territory would have gone to you.”

“Maybe,” Namjoon sighed, “but look around Seokjin, does it look like I need more money?”

“Lots of people desire more money than they need.”

“That is very true,” Namjoon acknowledged with a small chuckle, “however if Sejin had clear evidence that I killed Lord Bang, why didn’t he go to the police?”

“Like the police would listen to the son of a Lord who at the time was under investigation for mismanaging his district! Especially when he’d be accusing you. You basically run all of Korea!”

So not true. He only ran about maybe one-third.

“If he truly had decisive evidence, the police would have no choice but to listen,” Namjoon countered.

“You cannot be that naive,” Seokjin scoffed, rolling his eyes, “he was already fighting against those baseless mismanagement accusations, and if he’d tried to go after you too, chances are he’d have lost the district for real. We both know that being guilty and being found guilty are two very different things,” Seokjin glared at him, and Namjoon just sighed.

“Look, I know you’re well educated, and you must know about me and how I came to be who I am today, no?”

Seokjin reluctantly nodded.

“Then you know that while I certainly haven’t always been the most diplomatic in my approach, I have never used framing, violence, extortion, or murder as means to advance.”

“Or you just weren't caught doing it.”

“If that was true, do you really think I would leave behind enough evidence for Sejin to not only prevent my attempt at taking his district but also to link me to the crime?”

Seokjin’s brows furrowed in thought.

“The answer is I wouldn’t, and you know that. Besides I have nothing to gain from acquiring Lord Bang’s territory. It’s well-run and peaceful, but it has nothing I need. No special resources, no trading hubs, nothing that could add value to my district. Lord Bang alive and well, had a lot more value to me than his district. He was a mentor to me and his passing hit me hard.”

“But Sejin wouldn’t lie to me,” Seokjin said, eyes hard and unflinching, “he has no reason to lie.”

Oh, I can think of a couple of reasons, Namjoon wanted to say, but instead, he said, “then let’s say that he didn’t. Let’s say that he truly believes that I killed Lord Bang. Maybe someone made him believe that I was behind it.”

It made Namjoon want to throw up, pretending that Sejin wasn’t a lying piece of crap, but if he wanted to get through to Seokjin, this was the best way.

“That makes no sense,” Seokjin said, standing up now, pacing around the room, throwing out his arms as he spoke, “no one would gain anything from that.”

“Oh on the contrary,” Namjoon said, and Seokjin paused, staring him down.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Namjoon said, taking another slow sip of his whiskey, holding back a grin at the annoyance on Seokjin’s face, “just like you saw on the video I sent you, I was close with Lord Bang, and he was helping me investigate some things that happened in my past. It’s connected to the information I’m trying to get from Lord Choi as well actually. So it would make a lot of sense for those involved to kill Lord Bang and at the same time alienating me from his son by making him believe that I killed his father, especially if they thought he was helping me as well.”

Seokjin stod frozen, only a subtle twitch in one of his eyebrows indicating that he was still alive.

Namjoon poured a glass of whiskey and pushed it across the table towards Seokjin. A shudder went through Seokjin, then he sat down with a heavy sigh, grabbing the offered glass and taking a huge gulp that immediately made him break down in coughs.

“My God, you drink actual alcohol?! Why would you do that to yourself?!”

“Because I have good taste and I like it,” Namjoon said with a shrug, feeling some sort of childish satisfaction as Seokjin kept coughing.

Once his coughs finally stopped, Seokjin went quiet, clearly lost in thought, and Namjoon let him be. Instead, he pulled up his map, feeling a bit like a creep but unable to help himself, as he checked up on the whereabouts of his consorts.

He felt a bit like a new dog owner anxiously checking up on his puppies.

Taehyung and Jimin were together in the room Taehyung had chosen for himself, and Jungkook was with Hoseok in his room - Namjoon had expected that.

It surprised him though, to see Yoongi still in his room.

He would have expected the cat hybrid to ignore his order out of pure spite. Apparently, he was wrong. How very curious.

Seokjin slammed down his glass on the table and Namjoon jumped, barely stopping himself from letting out an embarrassing squeak.

“I still don’t believe you,” Seokjin said, his eyes a bit unfocused and a blush on his cheeks.

Namjoon’s eyes widened.

Was he…drunk?

“And I also really don’t like you,” Seokjin continued, leaning back in his chair, a little hiccup leaving him, “you’re arrogant and mean and really handsome! So I don’t like you!”

“Is that so,” Namjoon hummed, biting his lip hard to keep from laughing.

“Yes!” Seokjin huffed, then tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and Namjoon startled, “I know you killed Master, I know you did! Sejin said so, and he wouldn’t lie because he loves me!”

Namjoon’s brows furrowed. Had the two of them been lovers? That complicated things… But if Sejin loved Seokjin, then why on earth would he put him up for sale?

“You ruined my life and I hate you! So why do you have to say things that make sense and make everything so confusing?!” Seokjin glared at him, his whole face and even his ears flushed, and Namjoon found him adorable, “if…if only Master Bang was still alive,” Seokjin sniffled, “I’d still- still be his scribe and,” his broad shoulders shook, then he broke into tears, “I’d still be with Sejin.”

Oh dear.

Seokjin pushed the glass towards Namjoon with an angry petulant pout, “give me more! Alcohol is supposed to make me feel good, so give me more!”

“I think you’ve had enough.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Seokjin snapped, “everything is your fault! So give me!!”

Namjoon sighed and rolled his eyes, but he gave in to Seokjin’s demands, pouring a small mouthful’s worth of whiskey into his glass. Seokjin made a happy sound, then promptly downed the liquid. An adorable pout settled on his lips when he peered into the glass and found it empty.

“It’s not making me feel any better,” he mumbled, his brows furrowing. He looked at Namjoon, his eyes shiny and more vulnerable than Namjoon had seen them before, “were you and Master really friends?”

“We were,” Namjoon nodded, discreetly moving the whiskey off the table.

“Friends can still kill each other,” Seokjin said, tipping his glass back as he tried to catch another few drops, pouting when he failed.

“They can,” Namjoon agreed easily.

He should know after all.

Seokjin was just accusing him of killing the wrong friend.

“But I promise you, I didn’t kill Lord Bang. He was like a father to me.”

Seokjin studied him, blinking heavily to keep his vision focused.

“I don’t trust you,” he said, “and Sejin said they found evidence that you killed Lord Bang. And I believe that.”

“Okay…”

“But,” Seokjin put the glass down, confusion settling on his face, “he also said that you and my Master hated each other and that you had tried to steal his district several times.”

Namjoon scoffed.

“The things you’ve said, the video you sent me, and the fact that Lord Bang transferred his ownership of me to you in his testament, indicate that maybe Sejin was misinformed.”

Misinformed my ass, Namjoon thought, but he kept quiet, letting Seokjin continue on to wherever he was going with this.

“So,” Seokjin caught Namjoon’s eyes, “I still don’t like you, and I still don’t trust you, but maybe, just maybe, someone lied to Sejin.”

“Maybe,” Namjoon said, “if you want to, I can give you access to the information my investigators uncovered.”

“Really?” Seokjin perked up.

Namjoon nodded, “of course. You might be able to see something we can’t because you have had access to some of the things Sejin knows that maybe we don’t. However, you might not like what you find, little scribe.”

Seokjin’s brows furrowed, and he looked affronted, “I trust Sejin.”

Namjoon smiled, “I never said you didn’t, just be prepared to discover things that you might wish were different.”

Seokjin scoffed, “and when I find evidence that you might not like?”

“Then you’re free to turn it over to the police and have me arrested.”

Seokjin’s eyes went huge, “what?”

“You heard me,” Namjoon chuckled, “if you find evidence that I murdered Lord Bang, please, turn me in.”

“Is this-” Seokjin blinked, “is this a trick?”

“No,” Namjoon shook his head, “this is my way of earning your trust. Whatever you find, you are free to act on it in whatever way you see fit.”

Seokjin studied him with eyes full of mistrust and disbelief.

“Why would you go this far?”

Namjoon smiled, “because Lord Bang loved you, and that makes you important to me. Even if you hate me and are a pain in my ass.”

A blush rose on Seokjin’s cheeks, and Namjoon had to keep down a coo, as the scribe stared. He recovered quickly, clearing his throat with a little cough, though his ears still burned red.

“I’ll turn you over to the police the first chance I get.”

Namjoon laughed, “I wasn’t expecting anything else.”

—-

Several hours later Namjoon walked into the living room with a heavy sigh. The world around him was asleep, and he wished he could be as well. Usually, when he had troubles sleeping, reading would help, so he headed for the bookcases, intent on finding a book on ancient history; interesting as it may be, it always managed to lull him to sleep.

“Burning the midnight oil, Master?”

Namjoon jumped with a yell, whipping around and finding Taehyung sitting in the dark with a crooked smile on his lips. For once Namjoon was grateful for his improved night vision.

“Taehyung,” Namjoon wheezed, struggling to draw breath as his heart hammered in his chest, “you scared me half to death.”

Taehyung giggled, “sorry master. I didn’t mean to.”

He stood, slowly walking over to Namjoon.

“Reading at this hour?” He raised a brow at him.

Namjoon shrugged, “it helps me sleep,” he reached out, pulling down a thick book on ancient Egypt. He’d read it before. It would do perfectly in lulling him to sleep.

“Oh,” Taehyung’s voice was soft, quiet, “you can’t sleep either?”

“Nope,” Namjoon said, making the p pop in a poor imitation of Jackson.

“Because of your mods?”

Namjoon turned to look at him, finding a vulnerable and understanding look on Taehyung's face. It would seem Taehyung understood. But of course he would. An S-class escort from Stigma would have been put through several modifications.

“Yeah,” Namjoon smiled despite himself, “I’m so heavily modded I’m not even sure I can call myself human anymore.”

Taehyung pressed close, “you seem plenty human to me, Master,” he rested his hands on the expanse of Namjoon’s chest, a beautiful smile making his eyes shine, “mods or not, you’re the most human person I’ve met in a long time.”

Namjoon could feel Taehyung’s warm breath against his lips, and he swallowed.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“You’re welcome Master,” Taehyung’s eyes flicked down to his mouth, when they came back up, a wicked grin spread his lips wide, and Namjoon shuddered.

“Since we’re both awake and need something to help us sleep, why don’t we do something a little more,” he leaned forward, his breath hitting the shell of Namjoon’s ear, “fun?”

A full-bodied shiver went through Namjoon.

Taehyung ran his hand down Namjoon’s chest and stomach, making his muscles jump.

“I bet I could help you…release all that energy. Tire you out,” he cupped Namjoon through his pants with a low purr and Namjoon groaned.

In the second it took Namjoon to collect himself, he also had time to register just how good Taehyung’s hand felt, and he cursed himself for what he was about to do.

“Taehyung,” Namjoon said, putting his hands on Taehyung’s shoulders and pushing him away, “no.”

Taehyung blinked, surprise coloring his features, “but-”

“No,” Namjoon shook his head, “I told you, I’m not touching any one of you for at least the first week.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened, then a sly smile appeared, “silly Master, you don’t have to keep that rule with me. I’m the one offering. I want you, Master.”

Namjoon wanted to die, and scream, maybe cry a little. Why, oh why, did he have to be a decent human being? He could have the time of his life with the most enchanting man he’d ever met, who’d no doubt fulfill his wildest sexual dreams, but no, he just had to have morals.

“I said no, Taehyung,” Namjoon stepped back and away from the warmth of Taehyung's body; missing him already, “you might be offering, but I told you to respect it if my name was not on the list. It’s not. Hell, the list isn’t even in use yet. So,” he took a step further back, “I’ll take myself and my book,” he raised the hand that still held the book, “and go to sleep. I suggest you do the same.”

And with that, he turned around, quickly running away leaving a flabbergasted Taehyung behind.

Yoongi gaped after Namjoon in complete astonishment as he left; he’d gone unnoticed by the two of them when he wandered into the small adjacent tea kitchen earlier on. He’d caught most of their conversation, watching in disbelief as Namjoon rejected Taehyung’s offer.

“You know, it’s not nice to peep.”

Taehyung’s voice made Yoongi jump, and he flushed at being caught.

“Well then maybe keep your bedroom conversations to the actual bedrooms!” he huffed and marched off, ignoring the swirling thoughts the exchange he’d witnessed had set into motion.

Taehyung chuckled at Yoongi as he stormed off, his tail swishing behind him in obvious agitation.

Taehyung looked down the hallway Namjoon had disappeared into, “a king in your own way indeed,” he muttered.

He’d never thought that Namjoon would actually pass his little test, but for once he was happy to have been proved wrong.

Taehyung fell into a graceful bow, “it’ll truly be an honor to be yours, Master Kim.”

Chapter Text

Namjoon waddled into the dining room with a yawn, smacking his lips as he scratched at his belly through his pajamas. The book had worked wonders, lulling him right to sleep within a couple of pages, and his sleep had mercifully been free of any dreams.

Blurry movement out the corner of his eye made him freeze.

Shit, had someone broken in?

He turned slowly and carefully, trying not to make a sound.

There in the adjacent kitchen, with his back to Namjoon stood a boy with silver hair, messy from sleep, dressed in an oversize sweater that slowly slipped over one shoulder as he stretched to his tip-toes trying to reach the tea kettle on the top shelf.

Recognition flooded through Namjoon.

The auction.

His bidding.

The six men that now lived with him.

And Jimin, his angel.

Namjoon relaxed with a small chuckle as Jimin struggled, too short to get his hands on the kettle that was placed at a comfortable height for Namjoon.

He walked over and reached for the kettle, “let me help you.”

Jimin startled violently, whirling around with a loud gasp of surprise. In his haste, he knocked over a teacup on the counter, and though he scrambled to catch it, it avoided his grasp and fell to the floor, the crash jarring in the quiet room as it broke into pieces.

“I’m sorry!” Jimin rambled as he fell to his knees, grasping at the broken pieces with shaking hands, “I didn’t mean to! I’m so sorr-”

“Jimin, stop,” Namjoon gasped as he dropped into a crouch. Namjoon grabbed Jimin’s wrists to halt his movements, and Jimin flinched, looking at him with wide scared eyes, his bottom lip trembling. Namjoon gently turned Jimin’s hands over, tsking when he found small lines of red had already been cut into his skin.

Jimin hunched at the sound, “I’m sorry,” he said, tears lining his eyes.

Namjoon smiled at him, “don’t apologize angel. I’m sorry for startling you.”

Jimin blinked, looking between Namjoon’s eyes and his wrists held gently in Namjoon’s hands.

“Up we go” Namjoon stood, carefully pulling Jimin to his feet, “now,” he pulled out a chair at the kitchen aisle behind them, “sit down.”

Jimin blinked again, his eyes huge and round, but he obediently sat down.

“Good,” Namjoon smiled at him, then he quickly rummaged through the top drawers, sidestepping the broken porcelain on the floor, until finally, he found what he was looking for.

“I knew it,” he grinned in triumph as he closed his hand around the small bottle of healing spray. He turned around with a huge smile, once again startling Jimin with his sudden movement.

“Sorry,” Namjoon mumbled sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand. He really sucked at this, didn’t he?

“Hold out your hands for me?” He asked, and Jimin quietly obeyed, still looking at him with those huge round eyes as he gnawed at his bottom lip.

Namjoon cradled one of Jimin’s small hands, “you hurt yourself, angel,” he murmured, holding up the bottle and gently spraying the cuts. A small hiss escaped Jimin.

“Yeah, it stings,” Namjoon chuckled as he took Jimin’s other hand, “I cut myself all the time, so I’m intimately familiar with this,” he held up the bottle and gave it a little shake, before spraying the rest of Jimin’s cuts.

He put the spray back in place, then he gave Jimin’s full cheek two soft pats, “there,” he said, “good as new.”

A flush rose to Jimin’s cheeks, “I- thank you, Master,” his eyes flicked down to the broken pieces on the floor and he stiffened, “I’m sorry I broke the cup.”

“Angel,” Namjoon chuckled, “it was an accident. You don’t have to apologize. Besides,” he winked at Jimin, “I’m rich, I can buy a new one.”

A small careful smile broke on Jimin’s face, and Namjoon felt like beaming with pride.

“But be more careful next time, yeah?” He took Jimin’s hands in his, “don’t hurt yourself like that.”

Namjoon traced the disappearing lines on one of Jimin’s fingers with his thumb, the spray working its miracles already.

“O- okay,” Jimin stammered, the flush on his cheeks deepening.

“Good boy,” Namjoon grinned, “now, why don’t we go to the table and I’ll call for some breakfast.”

Jimin nodded quietly, and Namjoon helped him to his feet, making sure that he didn’t get anywhere near the broken shards on the floor as he guided him to the dining table. Namjoon hadn’t noticed yesterday, but Jimin was small. Tiny almost. He fit so well against Namjoon’s side. The way the oversized sweater he wore dwarfed him, only made him look even smaller, softer.

Namjoon had the sudden urge to buy him a whole closet full of soft oversized sweaters.

No! He shook himself. Control yourself, Kim Namjoon!

Namjoon sat down at the end of the table, Jimin next to him, and pulled up a holoscreen. He quickly sent down a request for breakfast to be served, before sending off a message to the other consorts letting them know that breakfast would be on the table soon. He took a brief look at Hoseok’s profile, relieved to find notes from his doctor that Hoseok’s injuries had all but healed overnight, and that he shouldn’t feel more than slight discomfort.

Mere seconds later a quiet beep sounded and the glass doors opened with a silent whoosh.

“Morning Master,” Taehyung chirped, sitting down next to Jimin with a pleasant smile on his face. He looked gorgeous in an emerald green pullover, his long red hair hanging over his shoulder in a heavy braid. Taehyung ruffled Jimin’s hair, grinning when the other boy swatted his hand away with a low whine and a pout.

The conversation he’d had with Taehyung last night fluttered through Namjoon’s mind, and a wave of heat rushed through his body. He quickly dispersed the thoughts with a low cough, willing himself not to notice the small smirk on Taehyung’s lips when he caught him looking at him.

They were joined moments later by Hoseok and Jungkook, the two of them dressed in matching t-shirts and black jeans. Hoseok jumped into the chair to Namjoon’s left, his ears held high, his tail wagging, and a big heart-shaped smile on his lips. Namjoon couldn’t resist the urge to ruffle the soft hair between his ears, cooing when Hoseok pushed against his hand.

“Master,” Hoseok said, his eyes wide and sparkling, “there were so many clothes in my closet! Did you buy all that?”

Namjoon grinned, “yes pup, I did. I had it delivered by drone before you arrived.”

“Is it really all mine?”

“It is,” Namjoon said with a nod, smiling at Hoseok’s innocent enthusiasm.

“I told you so, hyung,” Jungkook said from his place beside Hoseok, with an endeared smile on his face as he gently nudged Hoseok.

“But there's so much of it. Of course I didn’t think I could keep all of it,” Hoseok pouted, half-heartedly hitting Jungkook’s shoulder, before he turned sparkling eyes back to Namjoon, “I’ll be the best pup for you tonight Master,” his tail wagged so fast behind him Namjoon worried it might fall off, “you can pet me for as long as you want!”

“Thank you pup,” Namjoon chuckled. It seemed like giving Hoseok something he could do, a task of sorts had been the right move. He’d have to think of other small tasks for him. “You’ll be a great help.”

Hoseok beamed.

A scoff sounded and Namjoon suppressed an annoyed groan.

At his side Hoseok stiffened, his smile dimming as Yoongi walked into the right side of Namjoon’s vision. He had his head and ears held high, tail raised, the tip of it giving lazy flicks as he walked by, pointedly ignoring them all.

“Oh, planning on acting like an adult today are we?” Namjoon said with a raised brow as Yoongi sat down next to Taehyung. Yoongi glared at him, before he turned away with a huff, completely ignoring him.

“Still a brat I see,” Namjoon chuckled. Yoongi didn’t react, besides his shoulders tightening briefly and an annoyed flick of his tail.

A low gasp sounded and Jimin’s whole body went rigid, his face blooming red. Before Namjoon could even think to ask, Taehyung had his arm around Jimin’s shoulders, helping him to his feet.

“If you’ll excuse us for a second,” Taehyung bowed his head with a brilliant smile, “we’ll hurry back.”

With that, he pulled a red-faced, stiff, and awkward Jimin with him. As they went past a waft of sweet jasmine tickled Namjoon’s nose. He inhaled gently, noticing how the three hybrids' noses twitched, how their eyes followed Taehyung and Jimin’s retreating forms.

Wait, could it be?

He glanced at the sleek leather surface of Jimin’s chair, noticing a small wet spot on the seat.

Oh.

Oh.

Namjoon swallowed, his mouth going dry as he realized. He shook his head, immediately banishing every thought of standard consort modifications and jasmine from his mind.

Luckily for him, his household slaves chose this very moment to arrive with their breakfast, providing sufficient distraction and banishing any lingering scent of jasmine in the air. The table quickly filled with plates of food, flasks of fresh juice, and still steaming bread. Seokjin quietly entered along with the household slaves, sitting down next to Jungkook without acknowledging any of them. He looked good considering how drunk he’d gotten yesterday, Namjoon thought, holding back a small chuckle.

Hoseok glanced between the food on the table and Namjoon’s eyes.

“You can eat, pup,” Namjoon said with a gentle smile, “remember you don’t have to wait for permission.”

“Thank you, Master,” Hoseok chirped, immediately digging into a basket of steaming pastries, stars in his eyes when he took the first bite.

Namjoon smiled, hoping that this would be the last time he’d find Hoseok asking for permission to eat.

Barely 5 minutes later Jimin and Taehyung came back, and Namjoon definitely didn't notice that Jimin had changed into a new pair of pants. Jimin’s cheeks still burned red, but the awkward stiffness had left his body. A gentle scent of jasmine swirled through Namjoon’s mind and he hurriedly took a large gulp of his coffee, the bitter taste chasing the floral scent away.

Quiet chatter between Hoseok, Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung filled the room. It looked like those four got along or were at least willing to get to know each other. Namjoon listened to the sound of their voices as he browsed through the morning news. He’d never realized how comforting the sound of voices could be. How silent his mornings usually were.

He’d thought he liked it.

The silence.

But now, he realized, he could get used to the sound of their voices as gentle music in his ears chasing the silence away.

Cutlery hitting the table with a loud clang startled Namjoon out of his quiet thoughts, to find Seokjin looking at him with furrowed brows and a hard gaze.

Great, what now?

“When do I get access to the information you promised?”

Namjoon wanted to scoff and roll his eyes. Of course. Seokjin was nothing if not consistent.

“Once I go to my office I’ll take you with me so you can look at the information I’ve gathered, Seokjin,” Namjoon answered with more patience than he thought he had. Huh, would you look at that, maybe he was a very patient man. “However, I’m spending this week at home so we all can get to know each other, so it probably won’t be until the end of the week.”

One of Seokjin’s brows ticked, “I’m not interested in getting to know any of them,” he threw out one arm gesturing at the other consorts, “or you for that matter. Not before I get proof that backs up your allegations.”

“Oh,” Namjoon raised a brow at him, getting annoyed now. Okay, maybe he wasn’t a patient man after all, “and why should I care about what you want, Seokjin?”

Seokjin opened his mouth to argue but Namjoon cut him off.

“No, I’m tired of you villainizing me. I’ve given you good arguments to back up my ‘allegations’ as you call them - which you even acknowledged yesterday. You on the other hand have given me none to back up your claim that I killed Bang Shi-hyuk, besides ‘that’s what I was told’.” Namjoon held Seokjin’s gaze staring him down, “be honest with me Seokjin, if I gave you access to the files right now and you found proof that you’d been lied to, would you even believe it?”

“Yes!” Seokjin snapped and crossed his arms over his chest, but his ears burned red and Namjoon knew he was lying.

“Right,” Namjoon snorted, “I figured.”

Seokjin glared at him, but the red of his ears wandered down to the long expanse of his neck.

“Look, Seokjin,” Namjoon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’m not keen on shoving you the files if you’re not interested in the truth but only in confirming your own bias. I’m willing to extend a great deal of trust, but I need to see some effort from you as well. So, spend time with us, and try to get to know us,” Namjoon leaned back in his chair, “hopefully, that’ll let you look at the files more objectively once I bring you to my company.”

“Fine,” Seokjin grumbled, “but you’ll show me the information by the end of the week?”

“If you make an effort I will,” Namjoon said.

“Effort, got it,” Seokjin snapped, his cheeks all puffed up, again reminding Namjoon of an angry hamster. He looked adorable, which helped lessen Namjoon’s annoyance. Though only slightly.

“And, Yoongi,” Namjoon figured he might as well tackle both his problematic consorts and get it over with. Yoongi reluctantly turned to face him. The almost bored expression he wore ticked Namjoon off to no end. Patience, he reminded himself. “I expect you to make an effort as well.”

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change. He just looked at him with that bored expression and a dead stare.

“I understand that you’re frustrated at your situation, and that is understandable. What is not understandable is lashing out at the 5 other people who’re in that same situation as you.”

That got a reaction. A small tick of Yoongi’s brow. A tightening of his jaw.

Interesting.

Namjoon turned his focus to all of them.

“I’ve been thinking,” Namjoon paused, making sure that he worded this correctly, “you’re all here because of a decision I made, so it’s only fair that you also get to make your own decision as well. In a couple of months, if you find that you are unhappy with the decision I made, if you feel that you do not want to be my consort, or want me as your Master, tell me.”

Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok’s eyes went wide. Seokjin and Yoongi looked at him with suspicion. Taehyung, well…Taehyung just smiled, moving pieces of strawberries to his lips, chewing away happily.

“Tell me, and you’ll get to make your decision. Whatever it is, I’ll respect it and do my best to help you. I’ll even pay off some of the amount it’ll take to buy yourselves free since I raised it to an unrealistic amount by buying you at the buy-out price.”

Even Taehyung looked mildly shocked now, and somehow Namjoon saw that as a win.

“Which is why I do expect all of you to make an effort, but if you still feel frustrated or don’t feel comfortable in a couple of months, come to me with your decision.”

He smiled at them, “okay?”

Stunned nods were his only reply.

“Good,” he pushed back his chair and stood, “finish your meals then let’s meet in the foyer in 1 hour. Remember we’re going to get your Embeds, so wear something that makes it easy to bear your sternum.”

Another round of nods. Two more reluctant, but as long as he didn’t hear one of those cursed scoffs he’d pay it no mind.

—

One hour later and dressed for going out, Namjoon walked into the foyer. Six heads snapped in his direction and he smiled. Seokjin and Yoongi stood off to the side together, dressed primarily in black business attire, coupled with shiny dress shoes and wool coats. The two of them seemed to have found a sort of silent camaraderie, or at the very least they were tolerating each other. The other four stood together, Taehyung sort of in the center, the other three circling him like little chicks would their mother.

“We’re ready, Master,” Taehyung said, with a low bow, the three around him startling before copying his bow. Namjoon had to bite back a chuckle. Taehyung and his little baby chicks huh?

“Then let’s get going,” Namjoon said, walking out the door, a lavish limousine already pulled up and waiting for them. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Taehyung fussing over his three baby chicks, straightening a collar, dusting off some specks from a shoulder. He’d probably been the one responsible for dressing them. Which of course, he’d done an impeccable job of.

Jungkook wore a tight black turtleneck with a tiny silver zipper in the front that showed off a broad chest and muscles Namjoon hadn’t been aware of, and wide blue dress pants with a belt that accentuated a tiny waist, paired with a long trench coat.

Jimin he’d dressed in soft silk and wool. Another cursed oversized sweater in fragile pink dwarfed his frame and soft black silk pants hugged muscular legs - tiny but strong it would appear - paired with a black flat cap atop his soft silver hair but no jacket. Long golden jewelry hung from his ears and glittered from his small hands.

Now Hoseok…Hoseok he’d dressed in leather pants that didn’t leave much to the imagination, his long lean legs on full display, paired with a startlingly red shirt littered with fragile silver chains and black détails, hidden underneath a black trenchcoat. It made him look sharp and intimidating until his eyes found Namjoon’s, and a sunshine smile stretched his mouth into a heart.

Compared to those three Taehyung hadn’t dressed himself to stand out, though with a visual like his it didn’t take much effort to do so. He wore simple black baggy dress pants, a dark green silk shirt, and a checkered trench coat, his red hair still in the heavy braid he’d worn during breakfast.

Damn, Namjoon would become the envy of every noble after this.

How wonderful.

Once they’d all gotten comfortable in the car and were on the way to the Embedder, Namjoon turned to Taehyung.

“So, how did the training go yesterday?”

Taehyung straightened, giving Namjoon his full attention, “it went well, Master. Jimin is a true natural.”

Sitting next to Taehyung, Jimin blushed.

“He’ll be fine as long as you support him.”

“Oh, of course, I won’t leave his side,” Namjoon smiled gently at Jimin who cautiously returned the smile.

“Nah, you’ll have to,” Taehyung said, waving his statement away, “and he’ll be able to handle that just fine. You and I both know though that Lord Minho will approach him when you do. So just make sure that you do what you have to quickly so he won’t have to be alone with Lord Minho for too long.”

Namjoon blinked, once, twice-

“You’re right,” he smiled, once again impressed by Taehyung’s refreshing bluntness, “I won’t need more than 10 minutes.”

“Alright,” Taehyung nodded, “he’ll be able to handle that by tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon said, and he meant it. He turned to Jimin, “and thank you as well, angel.”

Jimin flushed even further, squirming in his seat, “it’s nothing Master. Just doing what’s to be expected.”

“No Jimin,” Namjoon leaned forward and covered Jimin’s hand with his own. God, that size difference did things to him. “I’m so thankful you’re doing this for me.”

Jimin’s eyes widened.

“If it gets too much, remember that you can say no at any time, okay?” Namjoon kept eye contact until Jimin nodded.

“Good,” Namjoon turned his attention back to Taehyung, “if you don’t think he’s ready tomorrow, you tell me and we don’t go.”

“Understood Master,” Taehyung smiled, and put his arm around Jimin’s shoulders squeezing him gently, “but he will be.”

Before Namjoon could reply, the driver's voice came from the speakers.

“We’re here Lord Kim.”

“Thank you, Wooshik.”

The car pulled up next to a lavish storefront, and Wooshik held the door open for them to exit. An attendant immediately came to greet them, bowed deep for Namjoon and guided them into the store. His consorts trailed behind him, their shoulders pulled back and heads held high. They didn’t even react to the flashes that went off around them as a couple of nosy reporters hurried to snap pictures before guards could show up and remove them.

Taehyung again huh?

Namjoon chuckled.

Two staff members took their jackets with deep bows and their attendant led them through the welcome area. All chatter in the large room died out at Namjoon’s appearance. Namjoon recognized a couple of lesser nobles and a few people that would probably call themselves relatively powerful.

Rumors would definitely be spread.

Ah, there we go, Namjoon thought, as one of them tapped away at a holoscreen set to private view.

How very predictable.

The attendant led them to a private room, asked them to make themselves comfortable and promised that their best Embedder would be with them shortly. They sat down in comfortable chairs and couches that circled a slightly raised platform in the middle of the room, Taehyung’s three baby chicks especially eyed everything with interest.

Just like promised, the Embedder showed up barely two minutes later, stopping next to the platform.

Namjoon didn’t bother getting up and following his cue, his consorts stayed seated as well.

“Lord Kim,” the Embedder bowed down low, way beyond 90 degrees, “what an honor that a Lord as distinguished as you would choose our humble store.”

Humble my ass. Namjoon wanted to snort at the absurdity of that statement. Serendipity literally had the highest prices on the market because they only worked with the most precious of gemstones and the rarest of metals. It had no extra value besides the show of wealth. The very definition of a waste of money on unnecessary finery.

But if the nobles wanted him to play by their rules, oh he’d outdo them all and make them regret it.

“My name is Donghyun and I’ll serve as your Embedder today.”

He straightened, his eyes never lifting further than Namjoon’s chin.

Ah, one of those then.

Namjoon sighed.

This was going to be a long appointment.

“We’ll be in your care, Donghyun,” Namjoon said, crossing his legs and leaning back, “I’ve heard Serendipity employs the very best Embedders, so I’m trusting you with the care of my precious consorts.”

Donghyun visibly swallowed, and Namjoon smirked.

“Of course Lord, they’ll receive the best of care.”

“I should hope so with the prices you are comfortable charging your customers,” Namjoon huffed, “but enough of that, I trust you know my sigil.”

“Of course, Lord.”

“Very well, get to it then,” he gestured for Taehyung to stand. Having him go first would put his three lost chicks at ease, and he’d rather have Seokjin and Yoongi go last. Less of a chance of them causing a huge scene.

“But my Lord,” Donghyun wrung his hands, “you haven’t chosen the gemstones or the metal.”

“Oh, I thought that was obvious when I said I trusted you with their care?”

Namjoon knew he was being an ass, and sure, maybe, he should be feeling bad about it, but he wasn’t. On the contrary. He was having fun. Taehyung glanced at him from where he stood, shaking his head subtly at Namjoon with a barely-there smile. Of course, Taehyung knew he was being difficult on purpose.

“I, my Lord?” Donghyun almost looked up, but he caught himself at the last second, still averting his eyes. If Namjoon didn’t hate the worshiping practices of people from the Nobel Loyalist families he’d almost be impressed. He did, however, so he continued being difficult. He had a shit reputation anyway, so why not make use of it.

“This is not a very good start, I must say, Donghyun. Doesn’t leave me feeling very secure that I have to spell out the details for you like this. Use the most expensive Embedments you have, give my consorts the best Embeds of your career. The price is of no concern.”

Given a clear direction, Donghyun visibly perked up. Or of course, it could be the prospect of the money he’d be able to weasel out of Namjoon.

“I’ll give them the very best Lord Kim,” Donghyun bowed, “they’ll be the envy of every Lord and Consort.”

“Good, very good,” Namjoon said, “now we seem to be on the same page. Start with Taehyung here. He’s very dear to me, so do treat him gently.”

Namjoon bit down a laugh when Taehyung subtly rolled his eyes at him, as Donghyun hurried to make reassurances Namjoon didn’t bother listening to. Donghyun stepped closer to Taehyung, giving him a shallow bow, before he gestured towards the circular raised platform at the center of the room, “if you could step up onto the platform, esteemed consort.”

Taehyung didn’t answer him, but he stepped calmly and with his head held high onto the platform, a peaceful smile on his face. Donghyun pulled down a large holoscreen next to Taehyung, and the platform lit up, nimble robotic arms emerging from it.

Next to Namjoon, Hoseok whimpered, curling up against Jungkook as he watched Taehyung, his ears pulled back and his tail edging down between his legs. Taehyung must have heard, because he caught Hoseok’s eyes, miming: “it’s okay.”

It quieted Hoseok’s whimper, but his ears and tail stayed down.

“We just managed to acquire the most beautiful blue diamonds, my Lord, so rare that only a handful exists in the world.” A desk rose in front of Donghyun and he carefully pulled out a small glass box with black velvet in the bottom upon which a gemstone rested. He went to Namjoon and opened the box, showing him the glittering stone.

It looked like someone had taken the deep blue ocean and condensed it into a stone. It shimmered and moved under the light, beautiful and pure. Namjoon couldn’t help the smile that took over his face. His request for decadence might have started as a petty rebellion, but this stone would look beautiful on his consorts.

“It’s beautiful,” Namjoon said, “worthy of my consorts. Good choice.”

Donghyun smiled, “I knew you would appreciate the beauty of this stone, Lord Kim,” he walked back to the desk, returning the box to where he’d taken it from, “I’m thinking Iridium for the inscription,” Donghyun said, tapping away on the holo screens that hovered around him and the arms around Taehyung started to move, “and for texture some diamonds?”

“Sounds like the work of art I expected when I chose Serendipity,” Namjoon said, trying not to snort at the pleased yet smug expression that settled on Donghyun’s face. Most of the tech was from Namjoon’s own company. If not for the nobles and their obsessive focus on brand names, he could have done this at his firm. Actually, maybe he should look into opening an exclusive store for Embeds? Well, a thought for another day. Namjoon focused on Taehyung, “what do you think, Taehyung? Would you be proud of wearing this Embed?”

Taehyung smiled, his mesmerizing eyes sparkling, “I would Master. It’s finery beyond measure.”

Namjoon grinned, “then please, Donghyun, go ahead.”

Donghyun blinked, then startled into motion, “of course Lord Kim,” he turned to Taehyung, “if you would please bear your sternum, esteemed consort.”

Taehyung opened his shirt quietly, baring the top of his chest, and Namjoon tried very hard not to imagine how warm and soft that honey-colored skin would feel under his hands. From the mirth in Taehyung’s eyes, he probably wasn’t very successful.

It’d been a while, okay, and he was a perfectly healthy man with needs, so sue him.

The arms around Taehyung set into motion, first applying a numbing spray to Taehyung's chest. Taehyung watched the machinery move around him with an amused smile. He didn’t react when a small cut was made in his skin for the metal plate that would act as a socket for the Embed. He didn’t flinch when the plate disappeared under his skin, though Hoseok let out a low whimper. Namjoon glanced in Hoseok’s direction, smiling when he found him curled up in Jungkook’s lap watching Taehyung from between his fingers.

Donghyun picked up a shining blue oval crystal the size of a small flat chicken egg from the desk, studying it carefully before he held it up and one of the robotic arms took it from his hands. Seconds later the crystal sat glittering and proud on Taehyung’s sternum, resting a couple of centimeters below his clavicles.

“All done, Lord Kim,” Donghyun said as the arms disappeared into the platform, and he held out his hand to help Taehyung off the platform.

Finally, Namjoon stood.

He met Taehyung with a smile on his face, his eyes fixed on the blue crystal with his sigil decorating Taehyung’s chest. A full moon with two clouds lazily shrouding parts of it had been drawn unto the crystal in silver Iridium. Small white and black diamonds had been added to parts of the moon and the clouds, giving the marking layers and the illusion of life. Three bigger white diamonds acted as stars glittering around the moon.

Namjoon swallowed around the lump that had settled in his throat, the sight of his sigil made into a beautiful piece of art more touching than he would have expected.

“Do you like it, Master,” Taehyung asked him quietly, snapping Namjoon out of his reverie. He met Taehyung’s gaze, knowing that Taehyung must have read Namjoon’s turbulent feelings on his face.

“Yes, Taehyung, it’s beautiful,” Namjoon said with a genuine smile, “do you like it?”

“I do,” Taehyung hummed, “if for nothing else than it’s proof that I’m yours.”

A warm fuzzy feeling filled Namjoon’s chest, and he gently cupped Taehyung’s cheek, “yeah,” Namjoon murmured, running his thumb along Taehyung’s cheekbone, “you are mine aren’t you?”

Taehyung smiled, “for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Or until you decide to find yourself a better king,” Namjoon murmured, raising his other hand and gently trailing the scar that ran down the side of Taehyung’s face, chuckling at the way Taehyung's eyes widened with shock and the tremors that shook his body, “worthy of finery like you.”

For barely a second, Namjoon thought he’d finally managed to take Taehyung’s words away, but the shock in his eyes was quickly hidden away and Taehyung let a broad smile shine on his face, “you place too much value upon a finery, which, by it’s very nature, is destined to be replaced by grander and finer creations, Master.”

Namjoon’s brows furrowed as Taehyung stepped back, gently but indisputably ending the conversation. Seemed he’d found a sore spot without meaning to. Namjoon made a quick note of it as he followed Taehyung back to the couches, saving that talk for another day.

Namjoon stopped in front of Jimin and held out his hand.

“Will you go next, angel?”

Jimin swallowed, but he nevertheless nodded and let Namjoon help him to his feet. As Jimin made his way to the platform Namjoon sat back down. Taehyung sat beside Hoseok, and the nervous pup immediately started fussing, his worry for Taehyung clear on his face. Jungkook looked at the Embed with big sparkling eyes looking excited rather than nervous.

“I’m fine, hyung,” Taehyung reassured Hoseok gently. Namjoon noted the way of address and smiled. Seemed they’d gotten even closer than he thought. “It didn’t hurt at all,” Taehyung whispered, squeezing Hoseok’s shoulders as Jimin stepped onto the platform.

Without Donghyun having to say anything, Jimin pulled down the opening of his oversized sweater bearing the top of his chest. See, Namjoon didn’t have a specific thing for clavicles or anything, but first seeing Taehyung’s and now Jimin’s elegant clavicles and feeling hot under the collar both times, he might have to reconsider.

Jimin gnawed on his lower lip through the whole process, watching the robotic arms around him with wide eyes, but besides a small flinch when the cut was made on his skin, he made it through with no problem. Once the process was over Namjoon reached for him, and he stepped close, holding his sweater down to let Namjoon look at the Embed in his skin.

“Beautiful,” Namjoon murmured, pleased when it made Jimin’s cheeks flush.

Before Namjoon could call on his next consort, Jungkook sprung up, volunteering himself.

“It’ll be okay, hyung,” he said, gently patting the top of Hoseok’s head, the pup’s mouth turned into a pouty triangle, “if me and Jimin can do it, you can as well, okay?”

Hoseok reluctantly nodded, watching Jungkook with hawk-like eyes as he went through the embedding, a sigh of relief escaping him when Jungkook jumped off the platform with a huge smile.

“See, hyung, everything is completely fine,” Jungkook said as he returned, reaching for the zipper on his turtleneck. Namjoon held up his hand, pausing him.

“Let me see first?”

Jungkook’s eyes went wide, “of course, Master! I’m sorry.”

He jumped to Namjoon’s side, eagerly shoving off the crystal nested in his skin.

“I like it a lot Master, thank you,” Jungkook grinned, his nose scrunching adorably, and those soft long ears framing his face.

“You’re welcome, bun,” Namjoon murmured, chuckling when Jungkook flushed at the nickname, “it suits you.”

“I’ll work hard to be worthy of it,” Jungkook said with a low bow before Namjoon let him go back to his seat.

“Pup,” Namjoon said gently and Hoseok stiffened, “you think you’re ready? Or do you want to wait? Maybe go last?”

“I-” Hoseok’s eyes flicked between Namjoon and the platform, his otherwise honeyed skin growing pale, “I think,” he swallowed, catching Namjoon’s eyes, “if Master will allow, I’d like to wait.”

Namjoon smiled, “of course, pup,” he turned to Yoongi instead, and finding that same dead bored expression on his face, he said, “Yoongi, your turn.”

Without a word Yoongi got up, stepped to the platform, and opened the top of his shirt, revealing pale almost snowlike skin. He stared straight ahead, his eyes empty and far away. Namjoon felt a brief spike of worry at his expression, but he pushed it aside. Whatever it was Yoongi wouldn’t accept his help anyway.

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change at all during the procedure, and when he stepped down from the platform, he did a shallow bow, somehow managing to make it look mocking and sarcastic. Namjoon was honestly kinda impressed even though it pissed him off.

“Can I be excused to go to the bathroom, Master,” Yoongi said, and Namjoon chuckled even as his eyebrow twitched.

“Of course, you can, Yoongi.”

Yoongi promptly raised his head, marching out of the room without a backward glance.

Namjoon sighed. Well, he’d brought this on himself honestly. He knew the moment he saw Yoongi at the auction hall that he’d be a challenge. Which was part of the reason why he chose him. And he didn’t regret it. Not at all. Yoongi intrigued him, and truth be told Namjoon found his rebelliousness rather amusing. Though incredibly aggravating at the same time.

“Your turn then, Seokjin,” Namjoon said, and Seokjin stood with a displeased sigh.

—

Yoongi was going to be sick.

Nausea swirled in his stomach, lodging itself in his throat.

He hurried down the hallway, crashing through the door to the toilet. He barely made it in time to throw himself over the toilet bowl, before his body convulsed and he threw up. He gagged and sputtered, fighting to draw in air as another wave of sickness hit him. His whole body shook as he coughed and gasped pathetically, hollow sobs stealing whatever air he managed to draw in. His heart raced in his chest, his ears ringing.

The Embed burned against his skin.

Marked.

Just like her.

Another wave of nausea hit him, and his stomach clenched painfully, forcing another stream of sickness from him.

An Embed, just like the one she’d been so proud of.

Like the one that had killed her in the end.

Yoongi sobbed, his body clenching over and over forcing him to keep going even when only water and bile came up. He shook with exhaustion; tears, and spittle running down his face.

And the Embed burned.

Burned against his skin.

A brand.

A mark.

Just like hers.

He clasped his hands over his mouth fighting to keep down the cries wanting to escape him, holding the painful sobs within his chest.

‘Yoongi-yah, it’s beautiful, right?’ her gleeful voice floated through his mind ‘it’s a symbol of happiness’

Yoongi’s body convulsed, forcing him back over the bowl, throwing up bitter bile. He whimpered, curling up on himself as sobs racked through him.

It was no symbol of happiness.

It was a symbol of despair.

And the Embed burned.

Burned against his skin.

—

Seokjin stepped down from the platform, the Embed now shining on his chest. He immediately went to sit down, and Namjoon didn’t stop him. Next to him, Hoseok stood up, small tremors running through him, and his tail tucked between his legs. His ears were pulled down so low they almost disappeared. He held onto Jungkook’s hand, his grip so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Hyung,” Jungkook murmured, “it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt. I promise. You’ll be okay.”

He brought Hoseok’s hand up, gently running his nose along his wrist, scenting him. Hoseok visibly calmed, though his tail and ears stayed down.

“You can do it, hyung,” Jungkook said, grinning up at Hoseok, his ears twitching, “it’s not scary at all.”

“Eish, look at you, you’re making hyung look bad,” Hoseok joked, nudging Jungkook’s shoulder, “thank you, Koo, hyung’ll be fine.”

He pressed a quick kiss to Jungkook’s hand before he let go and turned around. It had been a nice display, but the second he let go of Jungkook, Hoseok’s shoulders tightened, and the small tremors returned. Namjoon wanted to wrap him in his arms and tell him he didn’t have to do this, which, yes in theory he could, but even though Hoseok was clearly scared, the look of determination in his eyes held Namjoon back.

Hoseok stepped onto the platform and opened his shirt. He jumped with a low whine when the robotic arms whirred into motion around him. He flinched when the numbing spray was applied, and his breathing skyrocketed as he waited for the cut on his chest to be laid. He looked terrified, but he kept himself still as the cut was made, only a twitch of his eyebrow displaying his discomfort. After that, he calmed, the fear all but leaving his body, though he still flinched when the metal plate disappeared under his skin.

Finally, he stepped down from the platform with a huge relieved smile, the glittering Embed sitting proudly on his chest.

Unable to control himself Namjoon got up and pulled Hoseok into a tight hug, cooing at the small tremors he could still feel running through the pup.

“You did so well, Hoseok,” Namjoon said, meaning every word, “I’m so proud of you.”

Fingers gripped onto Namjoon’s shirt, holding tight.

“Th- Thank you, Master,” Hoseok mumbled, looking flustered but happy when Namjoon stepped back, his ears finally back to their normal position and a slow wag moving his tail. Namjoon ruffled his hair, and Hoseok let out a low shy chuckle.

“I hope you’re satisfied with my service, Lord Kim,” Donghyun bowed low next to the platform, and Namjoon turned his attention to him, letting Hoseok return to Jungkook’s side with a small smile.

“I am, Donghyun; you’ve exceeded my expectations.”

“Oh! Thank you, Lord,” Donghyun all but jumped in excitement, “your approval means a lot to our humble store.”

Namjoon suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He noticed Taehyung hiding a giggle behind his hand. Well, at least someone was enjoying Namjoon’s annoyance.

“Lord Kim, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the counter for payment. Your consorts are welcome to stay here and wait for you.”

Straight to the money - but of course.

“Very well, Donghyun,” Namjoon said and to his consorts, he said, “I’ll be back quickly, and then let’s go shopping for collars and ID bangles. I expect you to try and spend my entire fortune.”

Taehyung and Seokjin both snorted.

“Even if we bought the whole downtown, we wouldn’t even scratch the surface of your bank account,” Taehyung chuckled. Jimin, Hoseok, and Jungkook gasped, staring at Taehyung with wide eyes.

“Really?” Jungkook said, glancing at Namjoon.

“Well,” Namjoon shrugged, “what can I say, I’m well off.”

Hoseok, Jungkook, and Jimin’s eyes went wide as saucers, and Namjoon chuckled, waving at them as he followed Donghyun out the door, “think about how you want to spend all my money while I’m gone, why don’t you?”

As the door closed behind Namjoon, the three baby chicks turned to Taehyung.

“Were you serious? He’s really that rich?” Jungkook asked as he pulled Hoseok against his side.

“He is,” Seokjin answered in Taehyung’s place, surprising the four of them, “he’s one of the richest, most powerful men in all of United Korea.”

The three shared a look of surprise.

“But…” Hoseok hesitated, but when encouraged by Taehyung he continued, “Master he,” Hoseok chewed on his lower lip, “he doesn’t act like a powerful noble. At least not the nobles that we’re used to.”

Jungkook’s body tightened, a low growl starting in his chest. Hoseok shushed him gently, putting his hand atop Jungkook’s and squeezing it.

“I agree,” Taehyung said, Jimin nodding as well, “I think Master is a very different type of noble.”

“Well, that’s because he used to be a commoner,” Seokjin said like it was obvious, “he’s no prober noble. Also, don’t let his saint act fool you. He’s just deceiving us all. I know what he’s like. Scheming murderer.”

His eyes darkened as he glared at the door Namjoon left through.

Taehyung sighed, “considering you have no evidence to back up that statement, just like Master said, we can’t just believe you Seokjin.”

Seokjin just huffed, “then you’re a fool.”

“Maybe,” Taehyung agreed easily with a small smile, “but I trust my instincts and they are telling me that Master is a good man.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Seokjin said with a shrug, turning away from them, effectively ending the conversation. Taehyung huffed out a laugh.

“You…” Hoseok’s low voice caught Taehyung’s attention, “you think he’s good? That…that he’s not like the others?”

Taehyung caught a pain in Hoseok’s eyes that he knew all too well. Next to him, Jimin gasped, recognizing pain in Hoseok’s eyes, though, unlike Taehyung, he didn’t know what it meant. Jimin watched as a small understanding smile warmed Taehyung’s face.

“I believe that he’s good, hyung,” Taehyung said, taking one of Hoseok’s hands into his own, “that he’s different. He’s proved that to me already.”

A myriad of emotions flashed through Hoseok’s eyes. Jungkook pulled him into his lap, wrapping his arms around his middle, gently scenting Hoseok’s hair. Jungkook looked up, catching Taehyung’s eyes.

“I hope you’re right, hyung. I really do,” Jungkook rested his chin atop Hoseok’s head, “but I don’t believe it yet.”

Taehyung smiled and reached over, running his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, “and that’s understandable. Give him time. Let him prove himself to us. And if he can't, he’ll respect it if we do not wish to stay as his consorts.”

Seokjin scoffed, unable to keep silent, “and you believe that?”

They couldn’t be serious! They were buying all that bullshit?!

“I do,” Taehyung nodded, “and I don’t believe people easily.”

“Sure doesn't seem that way,” Seokjin said with a raised eyebrow.

“Probably not,” Taehyung agreed, “but-”

Whatever he’d wanted to say got lost as Yoongi marched through the door. They all went quiet, noticing how he’d gone even paler than usual. Being hybrids with enhanced senses of smell, Hoseok and Jungkook picked up on the scent of sickness clinging to the hybrid. Hoseok and Jungkook glanced at each other. Jungkook noted the look of concern in Hoseok’s eyes and subtly shook his head, but Hoseok went ahead anyway.

“Yoongi, are you okay?” Hoseok asked quietly, and Yoongi startled as if he’d been hit. He glared at Hoseok who ducked down, averting his eyes.

“I don’t need your pity, stupid mongrel,” Yoongi growled, marching off to the furthest chair, turning his back on all of them. Jungkook’s whole body tightened with anger, and he itched to slam Yoongi to the ground and beat him senseless.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok muttered, bumping his back against Jungkook’s chest, “I’m okay.”

“Hyung, it’s not-” Jungkook sighed, burrowing his face in Hoseok’s hair, breathing him in and wincing at the sour undertone of sadness and hurt, “it’s not okay,” Jungkook mumbled, “he’s hurting you.”

“He’s probably hurting too, Koo,” Hoseok said, and sure maybe, but Jungkook didn’t care. Hoseok had done nothing to Yoongi. Nothing at all.

“I don't care. You haven’t done anything to deserve this.”

Hoseok just chuckled, gently petting Jungkook’s arm. But the sour scent stayed, no matter how okay Hoseok tried to act, and Jungkook would never forgive Yoongi for that, no matter what his hyung said. The other three wondered as well, why Yoongi displayed such animosity towards Hoseok. Even Seokjin, who didn’t particularly care for Hoseok, or any of them for that matter, found it odd. The dog hybrid had hardly done anything that warranted that type of behavior; he was honestly completely harmless, although a bit naive and slightly annoying.

Jimin leaned against Hoseok, joining his arms with Jungkook’s.

“I agree with Jungkook-ah, Hoseok-hyung. I don’t like how Yoongi’s acting.”

“Maybe just leave him alone for now, hyung, hmm?” Taehyung said, squeezing Hoseok’s hand.

Hoseok glanced towards the chair Yoongi sat in, studying him for a while.

“Sure,” he smiled at the others, “yeah, you’re probably right.”

Behind him, Jungkook’s brows furrowed at the spike in Hoseok’s scent. He wanted to sigh. Of course. His hyung’s heart had always been way too big.

Chapter Text

“So,” they all jumped as Namjoon stepped into the room, “I’ve just spent a criminal amount of money on the six of you. Why don’t we go spend some more?”

A glance around the room told Namjoon that something had happened between them while he’d been gone. Hoseok looking dejected in Jungkook’s lap, flanked by Taehyung and Jimin. Yoongi was off by himself with his back to everything, and Seokjin - well Seokjin was in the middle and far removed from anything.

Namjoon took a deep breath and chose to ignore it. They would have to figure things out on their own, he’d only make it worse if he interfered too much.

“What do you say?” Namjoon clapped his hands together, wiggling his eyebrows.

Taehyung chuckled as he stood up, pulling his chicks to their feet around him, “sounds like fun, Master.”

Namjoon glanced at Seokjin and Yoongi who showed no enthusiasm, but they’d at least gotten up from their chairs. Oh well, their attitudes probably couldn’t get any worse.

He hoped.

“Let’s get going then!”

They walked quickly to the car, Namjoon cursing internally at the amount of paparazzi gathered outside the perimeter the guards had set up. He’d expected some curiosity and attention but this was way more than he’d anticipated.

During the ride downtown, Namjoon joined in on the conversations between Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok. It pleased him that as the minutes passed they seemed to become more comfortable with his involvement.

Namjoon had decided to first take them to Yours, the store he’d found while browsing the internet yesterday that sold collars and ID bangles for consorts. He should probably have given his consorts the standard collars to wear this morning before they went out, but since consorts mostly wore collars for decoration he hadn’t bothered. At most it’d only lead to a few more articles written about him, so he didn’t care.

“I’m taking you to a store called Yours, where you can choose your collars and ID bangles,” Namjoon said, “I found this one yesterday and I like their designs, but if nothing is to your taste we can go somewhere else later.”

Taehyung smiled, gently resting one hand on Namjoon’s knee, “I’m sure we’ll be able to find something we’ll like. How many different pairs do you want us to choose?”

“I have no preference. You can choose whatever you want.”

Taehyung let out a small hum, “in that case,” he turned to the other three, “you should choose at least five different collars each and just as many ID bangles.”

“That many?” Hoseok’s eyes widened and he glanced at Namjoon, a worried tilt to his brow, “we shouldn’t ask for too much, Taehyung-ah.”

“Oh, that’s not too much,” Namjoon chuckled, waving Hoseok’s worry away, “actually, you know what, choose at least 7 pairs, one for each day of the week.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes at him with a smile, “as you wish, Master.”

Namjoon had said that he wanted them to spend all his money, so he might as well encourage them, he thought with a grin. Getting collars for a consort was already a waste of money since they didn’t truly need them. The Embeds served the function a collar would, so collars designed for consorts were truly just decadent chokers. The same could be said about ID bangles for consorts although at least they still served a function. Of course, the nobles' preference for luxury and decadence still shined through, which meant gemstones and precious metals, and lots of them.

Oh well, not like he didn’t have the money.

The car pulled into a private parking area, and an attendant came running out, breathless and frantic.

“Lord Kim,” she bowed low, startling pink hair all he could see, “what an honor,” she straightened, meeting his gaze, her eyes just as pink as her hair, and Namjoon instantly liked her, “please follow me.”

She held out her arm, guiding them towards the store, and they followed her through huge glass sliding doors. Glittering collars and shiny bangles lay on rows upon rows of shelves, holo screens next to them displaying the different models and sizes. All in all what you’d expect from a store, but the decor had a natural homey feel to it, and Namjoon felt relaxed here.

“We made sure to reserve the store for you and your consorts,” the attendant said as she guided him to a comfortable chair, “can I offer you anything while you wait?”

“A cup of coffee would be nice,” Namjoon said with a smile, not sitting down, but instead turning towards his consorts as she stepped away with a bow.

“Now, the store is ours for the next hour, so” he clapped his hands together with a grin, “go have fun.”

They all took off, Taehyung dragging Jimin and Jungkook along with him, a huge boxy smile on his face, while Hoseok followed along behind them, a cautious wag of his tail. Seokjin and Yoongi each went their separate ways. Namjoon couldn’t help but wonder what kind of items each of them would choose.

Namjoon didn’t stay still either, he strolled the rows of displayed items, browsing. The attendant showed up with a beautiful porcelain cup that held steaming hot coffee, and Namjoon thanked her with a huge smile. A low groan escaped him at the first taste. He needed a caffeine shot after dealing with Donghyun.

Namjoon browsed for a while, letting his consorts be. As he strolled around he couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Jimin’s giggles as Jungkook held up a collar for him to try, the pensive tilt to Taehyung’s brow while he compared two almost identical bangles. Hoseok stood alone to the side, shifting from foot to foot, his mouth pulled down into a small triangle, as he ran his eyes over the different options, but never reached for one.

Namjoon turned around and walked to a shelf on the other side of the room to pick up the bracelet he’d seen earlier. He walked to Hoseok’s side, gently calling his attention.

“Pup,” Hoseok immediately turned to him, giving him his full attention. Namjoon held out his hand palm up, “give me your hand?”

Hoseok laid his left hand in Namjoon’s without question, his ears twitching atop his head as he watched Namjoon curiously. His wrist seemed tiny in Namjoon’s hand, but it fit Hoseok’s slender hand and long slim fingers.

“Beautiful,” Namjoon murmured, running his thumb along the side of Hoseok’s hand. He smiled at Hoseok who watched him with wide eyes, “I’ve found the perfect bangle for such a beautiful wrist.”

He held up the bracelet he’d found, and Hoseok’s eyes went even wider. Namjoon quickly fastened the thin delicate silver around Hoseok’s wrist, the sunflower charm filled with glittering red sunstones looking gorgeous against Hoseok’s skin, before sliding the ring connected to the bracelet by thin silver chains threaded with small silver sunflowers onto Hoseok’s middle finger.

Namjoon held Hoseok’s now shaking hand in his, “a beautiful bangle for a beautiful pup,” he said, chuckling at Hoseok’s wide-eyed stare and the way his brows disappeared into his hair, “it suits you, Hoseok.”

“I- I-,” Hoseok stammered, his ears rising and falling atop his head, his gaze flickering from the bracelet on his wrist to Namjoon’s eyes, “Master this is too much.”

Namjoon tilted his head, “you don’t like it?”

“That’s not it!” Hoseok vigorously shook his head, “something beautiful like this is wasted on a branded worthless dog like me,” he looked away, his ears and tail pulling down.

“Nonsense,” Namjoon huffed and Hoseok flinched, cautiously looking up and meeting his gaze, “pup, you’re not worthless, and I already told you that I think your brand is a mark of honor,” he trailed two fingers down the stark black marking on the side of Hoseok’s face, and Hoseok drew in a sharp breath, “and beautiful jewelry isn’t wasted on you. You’re my consort, pup. I’m supposed to pamper you and give you beautiful things.”

Hoseok’s face scrunched up, his lower lip caught between his teeth, and he shook his head slowly, “but I’m not- You’ve already given me this,” he put his hand over the Embed, hidden under his shirt, “I don’t deserve any of this! I haven’t done anything for Master! I-”

He cut himself off, hanging his head. Namjoon gently slid his finger under his chin, raising his head.

“You don’t have to do anything, pup,” Namjoon said with a soft smile, holding Hoseok’s gaze, “I chose you as my consort, and being a consort to a Lord like me means that you’ll need expensive jewelry and fancy clothes. I’m just fulfilling my duties as your Master, pup.”

Hoseok’s gaze wavered, tears gathering in the corners, “Master shouldn’t keep me as his consort then,” he said quietly, “Master is just wasting money, buying expensive things for a useless dog.”

Namjoon could see in his eyes that he meant it. It broke his heart.

“You’re not useless, pup,” Namjoon said, cupping Hoseok’s face and holding his hand tight, not letting him look away, “and I’m keeping you as my consort.”

“I-,” Hoseok’s brows furrowed, his lower lip trembling, “you shouldn’t Mas-”

“Pup,” Namjoon cut him off, “I’m telling you, as your Master, that I want you as my consort. That you are not useless.”

“But-”

“I won’t change my opinion, pup,” Namjoon said as gently as he could, his anger for the people who’d broken down Hoseok’s self-esteem to this degree simmering in the back of his mind.

Hoseok’s lower lip trembled, tears starting to fall from his eyes, “but Master doesn’t know me yet. How could Master know wha-”

“It doesn’t matter, pup,” Namjoon said, holding eye contact with Hoseok, “and I’m good at judging people's worth. I wouldn’t have spent 150 million to get you as my consort if I didn’t think you were worth it.”

Hoseok’s eyes went wide as saucers, and he was shocked into complete silence, even his tears stilling.

“And you’re worth so much more than that, Hoseok-ah,” Namjoon squeezed Hoseok’s hand, the silver sparkling against Hoseok’s skin, “if you ask me, this bracelet is barely worthy of being worn by you; beautiful Hoseok, esteemed consort of Lord Kim”

Hoseok trembled, a myriad of different emotions flashing through his eyes.

Namjoon smiled gently, running his thumb along Hoseok’s branded cheekbone, “won't you let your Master treat you like the beautiful consort that you are? I want you to have fun with the others and choose beautiful things for yourself.”

“I-” Hoseok studied him intensely, chewing on his lower lip, “if…if that’s what Master wants…” he finally said, “but,” he hesitated, shifting on the spot. A fragile yet hopeful expression settled on his face as he caught Namjoon’s gaze, “you…spend that much to get me as your consort?” he asked in a barely-there whisper as if he was afraid to even ask.

“Yes pup,” Namjoon murmured gently.

“You…” Hoseok bit his lower lip, “Master really thinks I’m worth that much?”

Namjoon smiled and said with a hum, “I do pup, that and so much more.”

And he meant it. He’d spent more on things he valued less than he already valued Hoseok.

Hoseok’s eyes glazed over, “oh,” he looked down, a small sniffle escaping him. He gently pulled back the hand with the silver bracelet on, cradling it against his chest, “thank you, Master,” he bent down in a low bow, “I’ll work hard to repay you, Master. I promise!”

He sprung up, a look of determination on his face.

“You don’t have to, pup,” Namjoon ruffled his hair with a smile and a chuckle, “as I said, I’m just doing what I’m supposed to as a Master of a consort. Now, go find at least 6 other bangles that’ll be lucky enough to be worn on your pretty wrist.”

A wet chuckle escaped Hoseok, and he bowed once more, “I will Master,” he chirped, before turning around and escaping towards Jungkook. He barreled into the bunny’s side, startling him and making him jump with a little squeak. Hoseok held onto Jungkook like a koala, hiding his face against his chest. Namjoon chuckled, smiling at Jungkook when his confused gaze found him. Hoseok said something into Jungkook’s chest that Namjoon couldn’t hear, and held up the wrist that carried the sparkling silver, but Jungkook’s eyes went wide before a broad smile took over his face, and he enveloped Hoseok in a tight bear hug.

Namjoon chuckled, then turned towards the chair he’d been offered earlier. No longer distracted, Namjoon's anger spread to the forefront of his mind. God, how he hated humanity. How could someone hurt a sweet and trusting pup like Hoseok to such a degree?

Well, he knew how, and he could guess why. He sighed, sitting down in the chair, silently watching as Jungkook moved around the store, Hoseok still attached to his side.

Namjoon sighed again. He was getting too involved too fast. He could feel it happening.

But, he was the one who’d decided to take ownership over these 6 souls, so their care and their wellbeing were his responsibility. If he didn’t get involved to this degree, if he didn’t care as he did, he never should have bought them in the first place.

It’d be like those people who decide on getting a pet just because they are trendy or they like how they look, but they don’t want to spend time on them or take care of them.

Sure, he knew his 6 consorts were not pets, but it was the best comparison he could think of.

A broad smile made its way onto his face when Hoseok pointed out a collar on his own and Jungkook handed it to him. He put it on carefully and immediately searched for Namjoon. When he found him, a shy smile stretched his lips and he hurried over, coming to a stop in front of Namjoon.

“I found this,” Hoseok said, pointing to the collar. It was silver just like the bracelet, and a sunflower sat in the middle, resting against Hoseok’s throat, “it matches the bangle you found for me, Master.”

“It’s beautiful, pup,” Namjoon said with a smile, chuckling when Hoseok’s tail started wagging, “fit for my pretty consort. You should get it.”

“Okay,” Hoseok chirped, his ears perking up, and his sunshine-smile brightened up his face, “thank you, Master.”

He bowed and scurried back to Jungkook’s side, the heart-shaped smile staying on his lips, and it made Namjoon feel accomplished. Could he have handled it better? Probably. He’d done his best though. As long as Hoseok was smiling and having fun with the others while readily trying out collars and bangles, Namjoon felt like he’d done enough for now.

“Master?”

Taehyung’s voice next to him made him jump with a startled yelp.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you, Master,” Taehyung smiled, biting down on his lower lip to keep from laughing.

“Easy for you to say,” Namjoon grumbled, but a smile quickly stretched his lips.

“I wanted to ask you if I could have your permission to pick out collars and bangles for special occasions for all of us?”

“Of course Taehyung. You don’t even have to ask. You’ll need them sooner rather than later probably. Or at least some of you will,” Namjoon threw a glance in Yoongi and Seokjin’s direction, who surprisingly had been choosing items quietly without making a fuss.

Taehyung followed his gaze, “they’ll come around,” he said quietly, “just give them some time.”

Namjoon sighed, “I know. I’m not blaming them for acting as they do, and I knew what I got into when I chose to claim Yoongi the way I did. And Seokjin,” Namjoon shrugged, “he’ll have to face the truth eventually.”

Taehyung didn’t say anything, just watched him quietly.

“Which is that I didn’t kill Lord Bang if you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t,” Taehyung said with a smile and a subtle shake of his head, “but thank you for telling me, Master.”

Taehyung looked around the store, his gaze falling on his three chicks who talked animatedly together, different collars held up and judged, “you know,” he said quietly, sliding sideways into Namjoon’s lap with an elegance that left Namjoon stumped, “those three,” Taehyung titled his head in their direction, as Namjoon wrapped a hesitant arm around Taehyung’s waist, securing him, “they’re good people.”

Taehyung stared into his eyes, the gold flakes in those seas of green sparkling.

“They are,” Namjoon readily agreed.

Taehyung studied him, and Namjoon felt naked under his gaze like Taehyung looked into his very soul. Finally, a barely-there smile lifted one corner of Taehyung’s lips.

“Come,” he said as he stood, holding his hand out for Namjoon to take. A very confused Namjoon let Taehyung pull him to his feet and drag him across the store towards the three chicks.

Namjoon felt like he’d just been tested somehow. Whether he passed or not he had no idea.

Jimin, Hoseok, and Jungkook’s heads snapped up as they approached. Taehyung linked his arm with Namjoon’s not moving away from his side, effectively including him in their circle and their conversations. As the hour passed, the four of them eagerly showed off their choices to Namjoon, even modeling some of them for him, seeking his approval, which he readily gave. He barely noticed time passing, but the hurt in his cheeks betrayed how wide he’d been smiling when they crowded into his car a small fortune worth of bangles and collars in the back.

“That was a lot of fun,” Taehyung said with glee, a simple black gold collar with an emerald in the middle around his neck and a matching bangle around his wrist. It suited him.

“Well, let’s go have some more fun then,” Namjoon said, smiling at Taehyung’s enthusiasm.

“Where are we going now, Master?” Jungkook asked. He’d wrapped himself around Hoseok, resting his chin atop his head, so Hoseok’s ears framed Jungkook’s face. It was cute really how close the two of them were. Hoseok still wore the bracelet Namjoon had chosen for him and the matching collar he’d found himself, and it made Namjoon smile.

“To a store called ‘Euphoria’, they carry clothing and accessories for consorts. Apparently, they have the biggest selection and are the highest-rated, so,” he shrugged, “it seemed like a good place.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Taehyung said with a smile, “is there anything specific you want us to get?”

“No, if there’s anything you need later we can just order it, so just have fun, choose whatever you want.”

“Well, well, well,” Taehyung wiggled his eyebrows, “and here I thought you’d definitely want us to visit the lingerie department.”

Namjoon sputtered, his entire face heating up, as Taehyung cackled. He’d clearly gone over Namjoon’s listed preferences, and chosen to weaponize it against him. Kudos to him. Next to Taehyung, Jimin flushed, while Seokjin rolled his eyes at them. Yoongi just stared out the window, blocking out their conversation.

“Oh,” Hoseok’s ears twitched as he peeked up, “is that something you’d like us to wear, Master?”

“I- Oh god,” Namjoon hid behind his hands with a groan.

“Yes, Hoseokie-hyung,” Taehyung grinned, “Master Kim likes his partners in pretty lingerie. Which, taste. I approve,” Taehyung gave Namjoon two thumbs up, “especially since wearing it makes me really pretty.”

Namjoon’s mind came to a screeching stop, images of Taehyung wearing nothing but lace lingerie, hugging his shapes, and putting all that golden skin on display. Wait, no, no! Hold up! He shook his head, shooing away the tantalizing images.

“Oh, you like wearing them?” Jungkook asked Taehyung, one of his ears rising in interest.

“Yeah, they make me feel powerful,” Taehyung said, “I can help you choose some?”

Oh god, Namjoon groaned, not even allowing himself to imagine how Jungkook’s tiny waist and big muscles would look wrapped in frilly silk. Nope, not imagining it at all.

“Ma- maybe me too,” Hoseok leaned forward towards Taehyung, “help me too?”

And that’s it!

“Can we please…talk about something else?” Namjoon begged, willing the heat in his stomach to go away, ignoring the flush in his cheeks, “my sanity cannot handle this conversation right now.”

“Well then,” Taehyung smirked, utter mischief in his eyes, “we’ll just have to pin it until the week is up,” he leaned forward cupping his mouth with one hand and whispered theatrically at the other three, “I’ll still help you buy some, just don’t tell Master.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes with a groan.

Menace.

Taehyung was an utter menace.

—

They spent hours at Euphoria.

Each of his consorts got their own attendant and shopping pod, the piles of boxes with tried clothes growing into small mountains around each of them. Namjoon circled between their pods, smiling at the continuously growing list of items added to his cart. Calls for his attention came often from Taehyung’s baby chicks, and Namjoon went happily, giving them the approval they asked for every time.

Hoseok had taken a bit of convincing but Namjoon was happy to hear his loud giggles mixed with Jungkook’s from the pod they shared. The two of them seemed especially ecstatic trying out several different styles with Taehyung and their attendants’ help, their list of ‘yes’ items growing much slower than their reject pile.

At one point he’d caught Taehyung encouraging Jimin.

“It looks great on you, Jiminie,” he’d said, “you should buy it for sure.”

Jimin didn’t seem to agree, his voice low and unsure, “I- I don’t know Taehyungie it’s-”

“Let’s ask Master!” Taehyung said, his arm shooting out of the shopping pod, somehow aware that Namjoon was lurking outside, and pulled him into the spacious pod.

See, Namjoon wanted to say that he played it cool, but nothing could be further from the truth.

A blushing Jimin peeked up at him from behind his lashes, lower lip caught between his teeth and Namjoon? Namjoon just stared, his brain filled with static and his mouth dry.

Jimin wore a white shirt, the top unbuttoned showing off the glittering Embed and the start of his pecs. Over that, he wore a harness. A damn leather harness. A collection of straps and buckles hugged his waist, small delicate silver chains and details hanging off them. Two straps went from the harness and over his shoulders. Around his neck sat a black gold collar like Taehyung’s, but with draped silver chains threaded with small diamonds. His shirt had been tucked into tight leather pants, a red belt holding them on Jimin’s hips. Slashes in his pants showed off patches of smooth skin, and a delicate lace garter sat snug around his left thigh.

Namjoon swallowed, a memory of the scent of jasmine floating through his head.

“Turn around Jimine,” Taehyung said, his eyes sparkling with laughter, “show Master your back.”

Jimin flushed even deeper, but he obeyed, turning around.

A pained whimper almost left Namjoon, but he managed to hold it back at the last second.

The back of Jimin’s shirt was open, showing off the bottom of his strong shoulders. Thin silver chains draped down his back swaying softly as he moved. The pants hugged his shapes, very comely and voluptuous shapes, and Namjoon burned, his mouth as dry as the surface of the Sahara desert.

“What do you think?” Taehyung asked, and Namjoon forced his gaze away from Jimin’s…curves. A knowing look shone in Taehyung’s eyes and an infernal smirk stretched his lips. The little menace knew exactly what this was doing to Namjoon.

Namjoon cleared his throat, pushing back the heat in his stomach.

“You- you look gorgeous, angel,” he managed, his voice pitched a bit higher than normal, and Taehyung hid a snigger behind his hand. Jimin turned to face him, allowing Namjoon to breathe just a little bit easier.

“Really?” he asked, shifting a bit on the spot, “you don’t think it looks strange?”

Namjoon let out an incredulous laugh, “Jimin, angel, I’d be the envy of every noble in United Korea if I brought you to a party dressed like that.”

Jimin’s eyes widened and his whole face and neck colored red, “oh, I- tha- thank you, Master,” he stammered, flustered.

“See, I told you, Jiminie,” Taehyung said triumphantly, “and now you,” he put his hands on Namjoon’s shoulders, “shoo,” he gave a strong push to Namjoon’s shoulders, sending him stumbling back out of the pod.

It took Namjoon an embarrassingly long time to cool down after that. He walked around grumbling under his breath about disrespectful consorts and whatnot, trying and mostly failing to banish the image of Jimin in that sinful outfit glancing at him over his shoulder with insecure innocent eyes.

Once Jimin gained more confidence Namjoon was sure Jimin would be the death of him. But, he’d die a very happy man.

Namjoon occasionally caught glimpses of both Seokjin and Yoongi, although they stayed behind the curtains of their pods, never calling out for him. Seokjin chose high-end classic outfits alongside pink sweaters and t-shirts with fluffy cartoon animals which endeared Namjoon to no end. Yoongi chose items in all shades of black, and occasionally a colorful item made it onto the list. Namjoon caught a glance of Yoongi’s face once, and he looked pale; frail almost.

It had made Namjoon pull up Yoongi’s profile, his brows rising in surprise when the readings from his bangle showed elevated heart rate and violent fluctuations during their time at the Embedder. He sent a quick message to his doctor, asking him to take a look at the readings.

Later as they all sat comfortably in the limousine, Taehyung and his baby chicks chatting away happily, their purchases sent to Namjoon’s home separately by drone, a message from Namjoon’s doctor pinged.

Namjoon let out a low gasp as he read through the message.

From the readings, his doctor had concluded that Yoongi most likely had a panic attack after he’d gotten his Embed. Namjoon glanced in Yoongi’s direction. He still looked tired and pale, the black satin collar around his neck looking stark against the pale white of his skin, and Namjoon felt a twinge of guilt. He’d noticed that something was wrong back then and he should have acted on it. There was nothing he could do about it now, but he promised himself to do better. He knew his concerns wouldn’t be welcome, so the best he could do was set up a notification, that’d let him know if another panic attack hit.

They came home to a late lunch already on the table, and Seokjin surprised Namjoon pleasantly by engaging in a bit of small talk with Jungkook and Hoseok. Namjoon hadn’t needed to prompt Hoseok to eat, the eager pup had dug in on his own, which made a ball of warmth settle in Namjoon’s chest. Yoongi stayed quiet, and he didn’t cause a scene, although Namjoon caught him glaring in Hoseok’s direction on several occasions.

They spend the afternoon walking along the walls that circled his property, enjoying the warm sunny weather. Jungkook and Hoseok were balls of energy running and chasing each other, peals of laughter in the air around them. Taehyung and Jimin walked on either side of Namjoon, Taehyung driving the conversation while Jimin mostly listened. Yoongi and Seokjin trailed behind them, Namjoon pleased to hear the occasional quiet conversation between them. Eventually, Jungkook and Hoseok roped Jimin into their games, the three of them running circles around Taehyung and Namjoon, chasing each other up and down the length of the wall.

Namjoon took them to a small pavilion, tea, and tiny cakes waiting for them on small tables next to comfortable garden couches. Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok crowded together on one couch, oohing and aahing at the sweet creations. They stayed there for a while, the sun warming their skin and a gentle breeze playing with their hair. The three baby chicks snoozed gently all wrapped up in each other. Jin sat leaned back with closed eyes, delicate golden chains threaded with sparkling crystals glittered on his neck, the wind playing with strands of his blonde hair, and Yoongi had curled up in a chair, his chest rising and falling slowly in sleep. Taehyung sat next to Namjoon, cautiously leaning against him. Namjoon wrapped an arm around him, and Taehyung relaxed against him, his body eventually growing heavy with sleep.

Namjoon leaned back, looking up at the blue sky.

He hadn’t felt this content in ages.

—

Dinner passed without incident and Namjoon was in a great mood.

“So,” Namjoon addressed the six of them as his household slaves cleared the table, “I’m going to the living room to read, and you’re welcome to join me.”

“Jimin and I need to continue preparing for tomorrow, Master,” Taehyung said, “if you’ll excuse us?”

“Of course Taehyung. You’re all free to do what you want tonight.”

Yoongi immediately stood up, “then I’ll go to bed…Master.”

Namjoon suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, “good night then, Yoongi.”

Yoongi turned with a flick of his tail, walking briskly from the room. Seokjin stood without a word, quietly following Yoongi out of the room.

“Well then,” Taehyung laughed, gently pulling Jimin to his feet with him, “we’ll get going as well.”

The two of them bowed, Jimin not needing Taehyung to prompt him this time before they left the room as well.

“Don’t overdo it,” Namjoon called after them, echoing himself from yesterday.

“We won’t,” Taehyung called back just as the glass doors closed behind them, leaving Namjoon alone with Jungkook and Hoseok.

“Will the two of you join me then?” Namjoon asked with a smile.

Just as Jungkook opened his mouth to answer, Hoseok cut him off.

“I’ll join you so you can pet me, Master,” he said, dull thumps sounding as his tail wagged against the back of his chair. Next to him, Jungkook’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t say anything.

“Sounds nice, pup,” Namjoon said as he stood, “will you go to your room then, Jungkook?”

Jungkook glanced at Hoseok, who gave a subtle nod.

“I will,” Jungkook said.

“Okay,” Namjoon said, glancing between the two of them, wondering what that had been about, “I hope you had fun today, bun?”

“I did, Master,” Jungkook nodded his ears swaying, “it was fun getting to choose so many pretty things,” he touched the soft leather collar with silver engravings that sat on his neck with a huge smile, “hyung and I have never been inside such fancy stores before.”

Namjoon chuckled, reaching over and ruffling the hair between Jungkook’s ears, “well, get used to it, bun. We’ll go to a lot of fancy places from now on.”

Jungkook grinned and scrunched up his nose, “sounds fun Master.”

“Good,” Namjoon said, slowly walking from the room, the two of them trailing behind him, silent whispers exchanged between the two of them. Namjoon turned towards the living room, pausing and looking back when he noticed that Hoseok hadn’t followed him. Hoseok still stood with Jungkook at the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. Jungkook’s brows were furrowed, the corners of his mouth pulled down as he held onto Hoseok’s hand. Hoseok nudged him towards the stairs, trying to pull his hand free, a complicated look on his face Namjoon couldn’t read.

“Everything okay?” Namjoon asked, and they both startled, “you can go with Jungkook if you want to Hoseok.”

“No,” Hoseok turned away from Jungkook, a smile on his face, “I’ll come with you,” he pulled his hand from Jungkook’s grasp, ignoring the low whispered “hyung,” that even Namjoon heard, jumping to Namjoon’s side. Namjoon glanced between Hoseok’s smiling face and Jungkook who stood at the stairs gnawing at his lower lip a conflicted look in his eyes.

“Are you sure?” Namjoon asked Hoseok who smiled and nodded.

“Of course Master,” he chirped, and there was nothing more for Namjoon to say, so he gave up with a small sigh.

“Okay then, let’s go.”

The two of them turned away from Jungkook, Namjoon leading them to the living room. It was one of Namjoon’s favorite rooms, three of the walls made up of glass, showing off the beautiful gardens outside. Bookcases lined the back wall on either side of the door, the middle of the room lowered with three couches circling a coffee table. Plants hung from the ceiling and stood scattered around the room, the lowered area surrounded by a line of water, four glass bridges making it possible to cross.

“Go sit down,” Namjoon said to Hoseok gesturing towards the couches, “I’ll join you once I’ve picked out a book. Unless you want to read as well?”

“It’s okay, I’ll just go sit down, Master,” Hoseok said with a smile, though his ears pulled down a little. He almost looked nervous. Before Namjoon could say anything, he turned and walked to the couches, cautiously stepping over the glass while eyeing the water, making Namjoon chuckle silently. Namjoon quickly picked up a book he’d been meaning to read for a while, before joining Hoseok on the middle couch.

“You want to pet me while you read, Master?” Hoseok asked, his head tilted and ears twitching gently atop his head.

“Sure, pup,” Namjoon said, then startled as Hoseok slid to the floor next to him.

“Pup, what are you doing?” Namjoon asked body tightening as Hoseok crawled between his legs, resting his head just above Namjoon’s right knee, “why are you on the floor?”

Hoseok’s brows furrowed, “you want me to sit somewhere else?”

“I don’t mind, but,” Namjoon reached his hand down, brushing back Hoseok’s hair, “you don’t have to be on the floor. Unless you’re more comfortable like this?”

“I’m fine Master,” Hoseok smiled up at him, nuzzling his cheek against Namjoon’s leg, and Namjoon’s whole body tightened, his brain itching to go down lanes Namjoon wouldn’t allow it to.

“Okay,” Namjoon managed, forcing himself to draw in a couple of deep breaths, “okay, pup.”

Namjoon threaded his fingers through Hoseok’s hair, smiling when he released a pleased little hum. It seemed Hoseok was more comfortable like this, so Namjoon forced himself to relax, and after a couple of minutes, he raised his book, turning onto the front page. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through Hoseok’s hair, gently scratching behind his ears as he read, his lips pulling up into small smiles when Hoseok pushed against his fingers.

Namjoon’s fingers found a sensitive spot behind Hoseok’s right ear, and the pup let out low pleased rumbles. He shifted against Namjoon’s leg, his head moving up Namjoon’s thigh, until he rested on the swell of Namjoon’s inner thigh, uncomfortably close.

“Erhm, pup,” Namjoon shifted, flustered and his body rigid, “could you erhm..”

“Of course Master,” Hoseok mumbled, but instead of moving away, he nuzzled closer, running his nose over Namjoon’s crotch. Namjoon sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body tightening.

“Pup, what are you-” his voice cut off with a low gasp, as Hoseok mouthed at his clothed cock, sending pleasure zinging up Namjoon’s spine, one of Hoseok’s hands reaching for Namjoon’s belt buckle.

“Wait!” Namjoon grabbed hold of Hoseok’s shoulders, showing him away, his book falling to the floor beside Hoseok with a dull thud.

Hoseok blinked, his brows furrowed in confusion, “what’s wrong Master?”

“What’s-” Namjoon’s voice shook, “pup, what are you doing?”

Hoseok’s eyes widened, then he averted his gaze, hunching in on himself, small tremors making his shoulders shake in Namjoon’s grasp “did- did I do something wrong Master?” his voice shook, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” Hoseok looked up, tears lining his eyes filled with desperation, “I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll be a good pup for you.”

He reached for Namjoon’s belt buckle with trembling hands, and Namjoon gently but resolutely pushed him back again. Hoseok’s lower lip started trembling and he looked at Namjoon almost pleadingly

“Master, I- I don’t understand,” Hoseok’s voice trembled just as bad as his hands, “you- you asked to pet me. I just… I wanted to be good and do what you asked for.”

“What I asked for?” Namjoon’s mind churned, a horrifying realization slowly dawning on him, “pup, I didn’t ask for this.”

“But- but,” Hoseok stammered, his body shaking so badly it worried Namjoon, “when the troupe leader asked to pet me, this is what he wanted.”

Namjoon’s whole body froze, anger roaring into life in his chest.

“What?” Namjoon growled, and Hoseok flinched back with a high-pitched whine.

“I’m sorry, Master, I’m so sorry. I thought,” Hoseok started sobbing, his words slurred by his cries, “I thought that’s what you wanted too. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bad pup,” he curled in on himself, arms hugging his chest, “I’m sorry,” he cried, and Namjoon finally reacted, guilt racking through his body.

“No, shh, pup, shh,” Namjoon shushed Hoseok gently as he pulled him into his lap and held him tight. Hoseok clutched onto his shirt, hiding his face against Namjoon’s chest, sobbing ‘I’m sorry’ again and again and again, his slender body shaking like a leaf in a storm.

“Shh, pup, shh, I’m sorry,” Namjoon tried, desperate to calm Hoseok’s cries, his heart breaking apart at every tremor and every sob. He’d caused this reaction. Curse you, Kim Namjoon, why couldn’t you have handled this better!

“Pup, please, I’m sorry, you didn't do anything wrong,” Namjoon begged against Hoseok’s hair, rocking their bodies from side to side, “pup, Hoseok-ah,” Namjoon gently cupped Hoseok’s face, “look at me.”

Hoseok reluctantly let him tilt his head back, teary gaze meeting Namjoon’s.

“Aww, pup,” Namjoon murmured and Hoseok’s lower lip wobbled, sniffles escaping him, “you’re not a bad pup, Hoseok-ah. Master isn’t angry at you.”

Hoseok trembled a high whine escaping him along with a slew of tears, his grip on Namjoon's shirt tightening.

Namjoon thumbed at his tears, “I’m so so sorry pup,” Namjoon murmured, “you’re not a bad pup. I promise.”

He leaned back, catching Hoseok’s gaze, “okay?”

Hoseok sniffled, “you- you pro- promise?” he stammered, hiccuping breaths making his body shake.

“I promise,” Namjoon hurried to confirm, aching to comfort and fix the hurt he’d caused, “I promise, Hoseok-ah. You’re my good pup.”

Hoseok’s eyes welled with tears, and Namjoon drew him back against his chest, holding him close as he sniffled. He ran his hand along the shaking expanse of Hoseok’s back, humming gently in the back of his throat, rocking them from side to side.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok’s voice was barely a whisper, muffled against the fabric of Namjoon’s sweater.

“Shh, pup, you don’t need to apologize,” Namjoon rested his chin on the top of Hoseok’s head, “you did nothing wrong. Master did wrong for making you think that.”

Hoseok leaned back, rubbing at his eyes with the end of his sleeves, “I didn’t?”

“No pup,” Namjoon ruffled Hoseok’s hair, “you only did what you thought I wanted.”

Hoseok nodded.

“When I asked you to pet you yesterday, this was what you thought I wanted?”

Again, Hoseok nodded.

“This was why you didn’t want Jungkook to join us wasn’t it?” Namjoon asked, the exchange between the two of them earlier making sense now.

Hoseok’s entire body went rigid and his eyes went wide with panic, “no! No, of course not Master. I would neve-.”

“Hey, shh,” Namjoon gently cut Hoseok off, “it’s okay. You were just being a good hyung,” Namjoon looked into Hoseok’s eyes, “you’ve been looking out for him for a long time, haven’t you? Protecting him?”

Pain, so much pain filled Hoseok’s eyes, and Namjoon’s chest hurt.

“Yes,” Hoseok whispered, then his eyes widened as he realized what he’d said, “no, I didn’t try to protect him from you, Master. Of course not! You-”

“Shh,” Namjoon cut him off again, smiling gently, “it’s okay. I understand why you don’t trust me; why you would try to protect Jungkook from me.”

Hoseok shook his head, “no Master I trust you! I wouldn’t do that.”

“It’s okay. You did the right thing pup,” Namjoon said, smiling when Hoseok’s eyes widened in surprise, “it must have been hard,” he cupped Hoseok’s marked cheek.

Tears welled in Hoseok’s eyes again, and a small whimper escaped him.

“You don’t have to anymore, pup,” Namjoon murmured, running his thumb over Hoseok’s cheekbone in a gentle caress, “Jungkook is safe now. I promise you.”

Hoseok drew in a sharp breath, his lower lip trembling.

“And so are you.”

Another whimper escaped Hoseok. Then his expression closed off and Hoseok turned his head away, looking down, hunching in on himself.

Hoseok didn’t believe him, did he? Well, Namjoon could hardly expect him to.

“Jungkook doesn’t know, does he?”

Hoseok’s shoulders tightened. He glanced up, the same look of shame, panic, and guilt on his face as he’d had when Namjoon told Jungkook about the injuries on Hoseok’s back, “please don’t tell him.”

“I won’t, pup,” Namjoon murmured, though he was fairly sure that Jungkook already knew.

Hoseok’s lips twitched into a shadow of a smile, relief taking some of the tension out of his shoulders.

“Did,” Namjoon hesitated, “did the troupe leader ask to pet you often?”

Hoseok nodded, and anger blazed through Namjoon’s body, “the troupe leader let his friends pet me that way all the time, too.”

Namjoon clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt.

“He always praised me when I did that. Would give me and Jungkook extra food.”

Namjoon saw red, his ears ringing.

“Master?” Hoseok asked quietly, and Namjoon drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon said, meeting Hoseok’s gaze with a soft smile, “it must have scared you when I asked for that.”

Hoseok’s shoulders went tight with tension again.

“No, of course not Master,” Hoseok said, with a broad smile that didn’t reach his eyes, his hands shaking in his lap, “I wanted to be a good pup for you.”

Yeah, Hoseok had been scared. Of course he had. Namjoon knew he couldn’t blame himself, he hadn’t known, yet still, guilt made his stomach hurt.

“From now on,” Namjoon said quietly, “if I ask you for something that the troupe leader used to ask of you, will you tell me?”

Hoseok raised a brow, “if Master wants me too, but why?”

“Because I want to make sure that I don’t mistakenly ask you for something I didn’t mean to,” Namjoon said with a smile, brushing back a strand of Hoseok’s hair.

Hoseok studied him for a bit, then, “okay,” he said, “I can do that.”

“Thank you pup,” Namjoon said, ruffling his hair, “now, will you let me show you what I meant to ask of you?”

Hoseok’s body tightened briefly, but then he nodded.

“Okay,” Namjoon said, slowly helping Hoseok off his lap, gesturing for him to lay down on the couch next to him, and to rest his head on Namjoon’s thigh. Hoseok’s whole body was stiff with tension.

“Relax pup,” Namjoon murmured, threading his fingers through Hoseok’s hair, going for the spot behind Hoseok’s right ear that had made him rumble in content earlier. It worked wonders. Hoseok let out a low, almost purring rumble, melting into the couch and pushing his head against Namjoon’s hand.

“There you go,” Namjoon chuckled quietly, scratching at the back of Hoseok’s head, causing another rumbling purr to escape Hoseok. They stayed like that for a while in silence, Namjoon running his fingers through Hoseok’s hair, as he watched his face for reactions, taking note whenever he found a particularly good spot.

“This was all I was asking for, pup, when I asked to pet you,” Namjoon murmured when the quiet between them had stretched on.

“Really?” Hoseok asked, his voice slightly slurred.

“Yes, really,” Namjoon said, chuckling when Hoseok pushed against his hand with a low whine, the second he paused his fingers.

“But-” a yawn escaped Hoseok, and he nuzzled against Namjoon’s thigh, curling up on the couch, “I’m not doing anything.”

“You are pup,” Namjoon murmured, feeling how Hoseok was growing heavier, his breath relaxing, “you’re here, keeping me company. Helping me relax.”

“Okay,” Hoseok slurred, “I want to- want to be a good pup.”

Namjoon chuckled, scratching behind Hoseok’s ear, “you are, pup. You are.”

A low breathy snore was his only response and Namjoon chuckled, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile.

“Good pup,” Namjoon whispered, brushing back his hair, his heart warming at the relaxed blissed-out expression on Hoseok’s face. He sat for a while just running his fingers through Hoseok’s hair, listening to his slow breathing and occasional soft snores.

Silently he pulled up a holo screen from his bangle, calling up Jackson. He glanced down at Hoseok, while he waited for Jackson to answer. He ran his fingers through his hair, smiling gently when Hoseok nuzzled against him.

“Now, that’s the look of a man who’s absolutely smitten.”

Namjoon chuckled, “hello Jackson.”

His friend grinned. By the looks of him he was in his office, one of the few times he’d bother to put on a suit.

“Spending time at home with the new consorts are we?” Jackson asked, wiggling his brows, “having fun?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Namjoon said with a smile.

“I knew it!” Jackson leaned back in his chair, doing a small fist pump, “no matter how much of a lone wolf you pretend to be, you like having people around you.”

“Yes, Jackson, you were right. Thank you for pushing me, and so on and so forth. Happy?”

“Very,” Jackson grinned, “now, tell me why you called me.”

“Oh,” Namjoon raised a brow, “can’t I call my friend to talk.”

“Sure you can,” Jackson shrugged, “but you don’t. Especially not when you’re reading in your favorite room and with one of your new gorgeous consorts sleeping with his head in your lap.”

Jackson raised his brow at Namjoon, daring him to refute him.

“Fine,” Namjoon chuckled, rolling his eyes, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“I thought so,” Jackson said, his expression smoothing into seriousness, “what is it?”

Namjoon sighed, glancing down at Hoseok, “when you bought Bambam…” his fingers hit that spot Hoseok loved, and a low rumble escaped the pup, making Namjoon smile, “he’d been hurt, right?”

Namjoon looked up to see Jackson’s brows furrowing, his eyes flicking down to Hoseok.

“He had,” Jackson said with a nod, his jaw tightening, “why? Has your hybrid been hurt?”

“Yes,” Namjoon answered simply, feeling anger burning in his stomach again, “the troupe leader Hoseok and the bunny hybrid Jungkook worked for before abused him.”

Jackson’s eyes widened before they narrowed, old anger making them burn, “badly?”

“Unfortunately,” Namjoon said, freezing when Hoseok shifted against him. He quickly settled though, and Namjoon quietly told Jackson what had happened earlier and in his office yesterday.

“Shit,” Jackson cursed, springing from his chair to pace around his office, “he rented him out?”

“It would appear so,” Namjoon said.

“And he wasn’t an escort slave or anything before?” Jackson asked, picking up a flask of whiskey from his minibar pouring himself a hearty glass.

“No, he was a normal performer.”

“That fucker!” Jackson cursed, downing his glass and pouring himself a new one, “why is it so difficult for people to follow the damn laws!”

“I don’t know,” Namjoon said, feeling anger burning bright, “but I’m looking for him, and believe me when I say when I find him, he’ll pay for what he’s done.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it,” Jackson huffed, downing his second glass, “let me know if you need help getting him into an inhumane working camp somewhere in the ruins of North China.”

“Might take you up on that,” Namjoon smiled, his anger not abiding even at the thought of sending that man to a place worse than hell.

“Good, good,” Jackson mumbled, sitting back down in his chair with his third glass of whiskey. Just like Namjoon he had mods that neutralized toxins at a high speed, meaning that getting drunk was near to impossible.

“So, why did you ask about Bambam?”

“I wanted to know how you helped him,” Namjoon said, looking down at Hoseok, “I’m scared I might end up hurting him again like I did today.”

“You probably will,” Jackson said quietly, and Namjoon’s head snapped up, “hey, don’t look at me like that,” Jackson held his hands up palms out, “it’ll happen, no matter how much you try to prevent it. He has too many hidden triggers connected to his trauma. You will end up knocking into them from time to time.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Namjoon leaned back with a long exhale, “I suppose I want to know how to handle it better when I do knock into them.”

“Now that is something you can learn,” Jackson smiled, “I can send you some books and video seminars that helped me.”

“That would help a lot. Thank you.”

“Of course. You should probably also consider getting him a psychiatrist,” Jackson said, pulling up another holo screen, “I can send you the name of the one Bambam used. She helped him a lot and they still talk occasionally.”

“Please do,” Namjoon said, holding back a grin when Hoseok’s ears and body twitched in his sleep, a low mumble escaping him, “I might send Jungkook to talk with her as well. Even if Hoseok sheltered him as best he could, I suspect he didn’t go completely free either.”

“Probably not,” Jackson sighed as he closed his holoscreen, a message with the contact information popping up in the corner of Namjoon’s, “but you probably shouldn’t send them yet.”

“Why not?” Namjoon asked, “she can help right?”

“She can,” Jackson nodded, “but right now Hoseok doesn’t even feel secure with you does he?”

Namjoon looked down, “no,” he mumbled, “and I don’t blame him.”

“Me neither,” Jackson scoffed, “considering the people who abused him were probably nobles like us.”

Namjoon’s body tightened. As if he needed another reason to hate the elite. They had escort slaves and their consorts they could go to for their needs. Slaves in the system were protected by laws and ensured certain protection and living standard. But of course, following the rules doesn’t give as much of a thrill as breaking them. And why should they bother with following the laws? Abusing a poor hybrid performer would have no consequences for them. After all, what could a hybrid like Hoseok do? Who would listen to him if he accused a group of nobles and his troupe leader of rape and abuse?

They had a system. A system that did its best to make sure that even the most unfortunate were treated as fairly as possible, but of course the nobles and the elite thought themselves above the system didn’t they?

“The point is,” Jackson continued, interrupting Namjoon’s thoughts, “Hoseok is in a new environment. He’s become a slave. He doesn't know or trust you. He’s probably scared and desperate to figure you out. As bad as the troupe leader was, Hoseok knew how he thought, knew what he wanted, how to act to keep him from getting angry or hurting him. With you, he doesn't.”

“He has been trying to find ways to do things for me. Which is why I asked him to let me pet him. Give him something to do. You know how that turned out.”

Jackson grimaced.

“You had the right idea though,” Jackson said with a smile, “I think he needs a new set of rules so to say, to help him get comfortable with you and his new situation. Things he can do for you to make him feel secure that he’s pleasing you, and clear things not to do. Even if you don’t have things that’d make you angry at him, make up a few things that he shouldn’t do, but make it clear that there won’t be a punishment for breaking those rules. That you’ll pull him aside to talk if he breaks the rules.”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes he might want to tell you something that he doesn’t know how to bring up or he might want to try and push you to react because he believes that you’ll one day stop your act and behave just like the troupe leader did. Giving him clear rules to break can help him to do that safely and controlled, and it’ll give you a chance to prove to him that you’re not going to behave like the asshole that abused him did. Doing this helped Bambam a lot.”

“I see,” Namjoon mumbled, thoughts already swirling around his head. It made sense; a lot of sense.

“You should call the psychiatrist yourself tomorrow, and have her help you if you need advice, however, don’t take Hoseok there until he starts feeling secure with you. And unless - Jungkook, was it? The bunny hybrid?”

Namjoon nodded.

“Unless Jungkook displays worrying behavior, you shouldn’t have him go before Hoseok is ready to go. That’s what I think at least, but make a plan with her when you call her tomorrow, she can guide you better than I can.”

“Thank you, Jackson. Really,” Namjoon smiled at his friend. As much as Jackson pissed him off, he was grateful for their friendship.

“Master?”

Jungkook’s quiet voice in the hallway startled Namjoon and made him jump, rustling Hoseok, who luckily settled back down after giving a disgruntled grumble.

“Oh, sounds like the talk is over,” Jackson grinned, “talk to you later Joon.”

He hung up, and Namjoon was alone with Jungkook, who watched him curiously from the hallway. He held the end of one ear in his hand, the other stood straight, twitching slightly. His eyes flicked from Hoseok sleeping soundly on the couch and Namjoon’s face.

“Hey bun,” Namjoon smiled, noticing how Jungkook narrowed in on his fingers in Hoseok’s hair, “something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook hesitated, gnawing on his lower lip, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Ah.

Namjoon smiled.

“Were you worried about your hyung, bun?”

Jungkook startled, both of his ears standing straight and his round eyes growing huge, “I, no-”

“It’s okay Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon chuckled and Jungkook’s cheeks flushed, “come join us?”

He patted the spot on the couch next to him, and Jungkook slowly walked over, catching his ear in his hand again.

“Ah, actually,” Namjoon said and Jungkook froze, “could you pick my book up for me before you sit down?” Namjoon asked, pointing down at the book he’d dropped earlier, “I can’t reach it, and I don't want to wake Hoseok-ah.”

Jungkook immediately relaxed, “of course Master.”

He picked up the book and handed it to Namjoon who took it with a quiet thank you. Jungkook sat down next to Namjoon, keeping a bit of distance between them.

“So,” Namjoon turned towards Jungkook, catching his gaze, “let me start by saying I didn’t touch Hoseok-ah.”

Jungkook’s gaze flicked down to Namjoon’s fingers still threaded in Hoseok’s hair.

“Okay,” Namjoon snorted, “I did touch him, but only like this. Okay?”

Jungkook studied his face intently.

Jungkook knew. He definitely knew what the troupe leader had asked of Hoseok when he’d asked to pet him.

“This was all I asked for when I asked to pet Hoseok-ah, I promise,” Namjoon continued when Jungkook stayed quiet, “and this was all I did. Okay?”

Jungkook nodded, his other ear flopping down to rest against his head.

“Good,” Namjoon smiled, chuckling when a low rumble escaped Hoseok, “he really likes having his hair pet doesn't he.”

“He does,” Jungkook said with a smile, “helps him fall asleep.”

Namjoon chuckled, “yeah I noticed.”

Jungkook’s smile slowly vanished and he tilted his head, watching Namjoon.

Namjoon sat still, waiting.

Jungkook gave a little nod as if he’d decided something, then he moved closer, leaning against Namjoon’s side. Namjoon held his breath, didn’t even dare to move.

Jungkook nuzzled against him, shifting to get comfortable, and Namjoon slowly moved his arm and wrapped it around Jungkook, helping him get comfortable. Jungkook let out a little hum as he settled against him.

They sat in silence for a while, the sound of their breathing joining the quiet sound of the stream in the garden outside. Namjoon watched Jungkook out of the corner of his eyes. His ears lay flat against the side of his head, giving an occasional twitch. Ever so slowly Namjoon lifted his hand from Jungkook’s shoulder, and gently threaded his fingers through his hair. Jungkook let out a small sigh, a gentle hum in the back of his throat.

They sat for a long time in silence after that, so long that Namjoon thought Jungkook had fallen asleep. A silent whisper sounded, so quiet that Namjoon almost missed it.

“Thank you, Master.”

Namjoon didn’t know what Jungkook was thanking him for, but it didn’t matter in the end.

“No need to thank me, bun,” Namjoon hummed, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile, “now, should we help Hoseok-ah to bed?”

Chapter Text

With a groan, Namjoon pushed aside his duvet and got up from bed. Lying awake in the middle of the night, tossing and turning as sleep eluded him, had unfortunately become a familiar experience for Namjoon. It was an unfortunate side effect of some of his mods. This time, though, his thoughts had been what kept him awake. He turned on the light in his bedroom with a defeated sigh, already resigned to the fact that he would get no further sleep tonight. Even if he sorely needed it so he could be as sharp as possible when meeting with Choi Minho. He started the familiar trek through his room, circling it as he tried to sort through his thoughts. What had happened with Hoseok earlier had rattled him more than he wanted to admit. While the knowledge of what had happened to the poor pup had been infuriating, what really bothered Namjoon was the fact that he had unintentionally hurt Hoseok and could very well do so again.

Hoseok had looked so small and fragile alone on the huge bed. Jungkook had crawled into bed with him, gently curling around Hoseok. A small whine had escaped the pup, and he’d clung onto Jungkook, mumbling a low ‘I’m sorry’ under his breath; Namjoon had immediately fled the room, guilt swirling in his stomach.

He’d already assigned his Center of Information - or his spy network as Jackson liked to call them - with finding the troupe leader and, if possible, the nobles who’d been involved in this. Since the bastard wasn’t a noble but just an ordinary person living in a less developed part, finding him would, unfortunately, be difficult. Especially since the Ulsan police force had technically sold Hoseok and Jungkook. He had faith in his people, though. They’d find him. And if they didn’t, Namjoon would just have to pay a visit to the lord of the Ulsan District. He’d rather not, though. The bastard might be involved himself; in that case, a visit would only warn those involved of Namjoon’s intentions.

Namjoon sat at his desk, a small workstation lighting up with a silent electrical hum. The screen flashed to life, the homepage of the doctor Jackson had recommended appearing before him. He’d researched her before bed and had only found praise for Doctor Moonbyul and her methods, but had decided not to contact her before morning. Now, a green dot in the uppermost corner of the site indicated that the doctor was online, and instead of questioning why on earth someone other than him would be at their computer in the middle of the night, he pressed the call button.

—-

Jimin let out a sigh as he dragged himself towards the dining room. He’d thought learning choreography was hard, but it was nothing compared to the complicated workings of the nobles. Taehyung had assured him he would do great, but he didn’t feel so sure.

“Hyung”

Jimin barely had time to register the loud voice before several kilos of overexcited, very tactile bunny dumped itself onto his back.

“Kookie, be careful,” Hoseok laughed, steadying Jimin with a soft hand on his shoulder before the added weight of Jungkook, who was undeniably heavier and larger than Jimin, could send him face-first onto the floor.

“Thank yo-” Jimin paused, his brows furrowing. Hoseok’s eyes were red-rimmed, and shadows lay heavy underneath them. “Hyung, are you okay?”

Hoseok’s smile dimmed, and his ears lowered.

“Yeah,” Hoseok said, not meeting Jimin’s eyes, “I’m okay.”

Jimin narrowed his eyes, “did he hurt you?”

Jungkook’s arms around Jimin’s shoulders tightened as Hoseok snapped his head up, wide eyes meeting Jimin’s.

“He did, didn’t he?” Jimin said, feeling fear and anger mingling inside his chest.

Hoseok hurriedly shook his head, “no, no, master didn’t hurt me.”

“Hyung, you don’t have to defend him,” Jimin grabbed Hoseok’s hands, squeezing them.

“No, I- I’m not. It’s- the master didn’t-” Hoseok looked at Jungkook, desperate for help, and Jungkook’s eyes softened. It had been mortifying for Hoseok when he woke up next to Jungkook, and the bunny softly confessed to how much he knew of what Hoseok had gone through at the hands of the troupe leader. Hoseok wasn’t stupid. He knew that Jungkook would be somewhat aware, but he’d tried his best to hide it all from Jungkook. It would seem he’d mostly failed. Even if Jungkook didn’t know the exact details, he knew enough, and Hoseok felt an uncomfortable mix of shame and guilt that he’d have to work through.

Jungkook rested his chin on Jimin’s head, holding Hoseok’s gaze as he spoke.

“Hoseok-hyung and I didn’t have an easy life, Jimin-hyung,” Jungkook’s eyes filled with a sadness that Hoseok wished with all his might that he could erase, “Hoseok-hyung especially because he tried to shield me.”

Hoseok looked away from Jungkook’s gaze, settling on Jimin’s face instead. Jimin watched him intently as he listened to Jungkook, his grip on Hoseok’s hands warm and grounding.

“Hyung suffered a lot,” Jungkook said, his voice growing low and soft, “the things that bastard forced hyung to do,” a growl of anger escaped Jungkook, and Jimin winced as his grip around him tightened.

“Wha- what things?” Jimin asked, his voice barely there.

Before Jungkook could answer, Hoseok averted his eyes and begged silently, “don’t. Please.”

Jungkook stayed silent, then softly sighed and continued, “things that left scars mentally and physically.”

“I- I see,” Jimin gently squeezed Hoseok’s hands, and he raised his head to meet Jimin’s soft gaze and gentle smile, “and that’s somehow connected to the fact that Hoseok-hyung has been crying?”

“I- I misunderstood master,” Hoseok said, his ears drooping, “he, erhm, asked me for something that the troupe leader used to ask of me…”

Jimin’s brows furrowed, “you mean how he asked to pet you?”

Hoseok’s frame stiffened, and a soft rumble escaped Jungkook.

“Yeah, erhm, that,” Hoseok’s gaze flickered until it settled on the floor, “so I thought Master wanted the same thing, but, erhm, he didn’t.”

“Isn’t that a good thing, though?” Jimin asked, his confusion evident in his voice.

“Yeah,” Hoseok smiled tentatively, and Jimin felt a protective surge at the vulnerability on the hybrid’s face, “Master was really good to me. He didn’t even get mad at me for trying to-”

He cut himself off with a low cough, and Jimin squeezed his hands again.

“It confused me so much,” Hoseok said, curling in on himself, “I thought I only did what he wanted. I thought I could finally be good for him, but he pushed me away, and I was so scared. I thought I did bad. That I was a bad dog.”

Hoseok’s body started shaking, and Jimin’s heart broke at the sight of him. He’d seen glimpses of Hoseok like this before - when Yoongi was being an ass to him and at dinner when he’d asked for permission to eat. He looked small and scared, almost broken. It scared Jimin to think of what they had been through to scar Hoseok like this.

“I thought he would punish me. That he’d discipline me like I deserved.”

Jungkook’s grip around Jimin tightened as Jimin let out a low gasp. Before either of them could voice their protest, Hoseok continued.

“But he didn’t. He- he comforted me.” Hoseok looked up, his eyes wide and full of tears, “he- master even apologized to me.”

Hoseok looked incredulous like he couldn’t believe he deserved an apology.

“But that’s why I cried Jiminie,” Hoseok said, a smile taking over his face, “not because of the master, but because of something the troupe leader used to do.”

“I-” Jimin didn’t know what to say. Mostly, he felt terrible for Hoseok; he felt bad for making him share this when Hoseok clearly didn’t like to talk about what he’d gone through. “I’m sorry.”

Hosek sniffled, then giggled, “silly Jiminie, you shouldn't apologize for being worried for your hyung.” He turned around, starting towards the dining room, gently pulling Jimin along with him, “now let's go eat breakfast before the monster in Jungkook’s stomach starts roaring.”

“Aish hyung,” Jungkook whined as he released his grip on Jimin and draped himself over Hoseok’s side, “my stomach isn’t a monster.”

Jimin watched them smile and giggle as they bickered goodheartedly. He’d thought his lot in life had been heavy and unfair when he decided to sell himself as a slave to save his father and his dance academy from debt. He’d been a sheltered fool for even thinking like that.

—--

Namjoon hid his fifth yawn behind his coffee cup, and Taehyung chuckled gently beside him.

“You might catch a fly soon if you keep that up, master,” Taehyung said with a wide grin.

Namjoon shrugged, “might do me good with some extra protein.”

Taehyung’s smile turned mischievous as he shook his head gently, “with the muscles hiding under your clothes, I don’t think you need more protein, master.”

“Why, thank you for noticing,” Namjoon grinned before another yawn pushed past his lips. Taehyung’s smile became endeared.

“Maybe you should take a nap before the event tonight, master. You’ll need your full capacity tonight, won’t you?” Taehyung glanced in Jimin’s direction, “we wouldn’t want something to go wrong.”

“Don’t worry,” Namjoon appreciated Taehyung for worrying, even if it was mostly Jimin he was concerned about, “I’ll take a quick nap before lunch.”

“Good,” Taehyung smiled, “and Jimin is more than ready,” he threw his arm around Jimin, who visibly startled, “he’s been a quick study, master. You’ll be proud of him.”

Jimin averted his eyes with a flush high on his cheeks, and Namjoon smiled, “oh, I’m sure I will be. Thank you, both of you.” Namjoon ran his gaze across the six of them, contemplating whether to bring up the talk he’d had with Moonbyul in the middle of the night. She’d suggested giving his consorts the opportunity to consult her independently if needed, and Namjoon wholeheartedly approved of the idea. He just didn’t know how to bring it up in a way that would feel natural and, more importantly, make them feel safe to confide in her. Although getting them to feel safe was her job, not his, he supposed.

Well, he might as well just get it over with.

“I acquired the services of a skilled therapist yesterday,” he said to no one in particular, yet all his consorts turned their attention towards him.

Seokjin snorted, “good for you, I guess. No need to announce it to the class.”

“There is if it concerns the class,” Namjoon retorted, waving away one of his household slaves as she went to fill up his coffee. He really didn’t need any more caffeine. “I’ve added her direct line to each of your profiles, and you’re free to contact her at any time should you need it.”

“Right,” Seokjin rolled his eyes, “so she can run right to you and tell you all our weaknesses and triggers; no thank you.”

Namjoon fought back the deep sigh that wanted to emerge. He knew most of them would react like that.

“She wouldn’t be allowed to do that,” Taehyung supplied, surprising Namjoon slightly, “she’d lose her license if one of us reported her for it.”

“You can’t be so naive,” Seokjin narrowed his eyes at Taehyung, “you, of all people, should know all the shit that nobles can get away with.”

“Sure,” Taehyung shrugged, “Master wouldn’t be punished, but she would, so she wouldn’t risk it. Especially not after the last time it happened,” Taehyung took a bite of a strawberry, gently chewing before he continued, “that therapist got sold into slavery as punishment for disclosing private information about a consort to the media, and the laws have gotten even stricter since then.” Taehyung popped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth and hummed happily as he chewed.

Seokjin stared at Taehyung, irritation clear on his face.

“Anyway,” Namjoon hurried to add before Seokjin could turn this into a longer argument, “it’s there for you to use if you need it. As your Master, I want to take care of your mental health as well, and as Taehyung said, it’s safe; she won’t be disclosing any of your private information to me.”

A general air of suspension and disbelief met him, and Namjoon couldn’t say he blamed them. But as Moonbyul had argued, even if they didn’t trust him enough to use her services immediately, it would be better that he informed them of the possibility so they’d know of the option should a day come when they truly needed it.

He glanced in Hoseok’s direction. The pup looked mildly confused but not directly suspicious like Seokjin and Yoongi. He’d dumped many of his worries about Hoseok on Moonbyul, even though he’d only planned to get a feel for her and maybe hash out how he’d use her services. She’d felt his worries through the screen, and a light prompt from her was all it took. Her guidance had certainly been…enlightening and showed Namjoon how terribly unprepared he was to care for someone else, especially hybrids. He had some serious reading to do. But for now, he could do what Jackson had suggested and what Moonbyul had readily agreed to.

“Also, after talking to Doctor Moonbyul, I’ve decided to establish some very simple rules.”

“Going back on your own words already,” Seokjin said, raising a brow.

“Yes, but on the advice of a professional who knows much more about maintaining healthy relationships between masters and their consorts than I do,” Namjoon shot back, and Seokjin begrudgingly fell silent.

“I’ll send the list to your profiles, so please go over them when you have the time,” Namjoon said as he stood, “now I’ll go prepare for tonight. See you all at lunch.”

And with that, he turned around and left.

—--

Yoongi glanced over the list of ten rules Namjoon had sent them.

“He cannot be serious,” Yoongi scoffed, “he seriously made ‘cleaning up after yourself after using common areas’ into a rule?!”

“Considering he also made ‘talk politely and behave cordially with members of the household’ a rule, I can see why you’d complain,” Jungkook said with a broad, smug grin.

Yoongi’s ears pulled back as he let a low growl rumble in his chest.

“See, breaking the rules already,” Jungkook leaned against Hoseok’s side, nuzzling his nose against the dog hybrid’s temple, “can’t wait to have you punished for breaking the rules next time you act like a prick.”

“Why, you little-” Yoongi bared his teeth at Jungkook, but before he could continue, Taehyung firmly interrupted.

“Breaking the rules doesn't mean you’ll be punished, Kook-ah,” Taehyung said, “though your behavior right now would also be breaking the rule you taunted Yoongi with.”

Jungkook deflated a little at Taehyung’s words, and Yoongi felt a brief sense of satisfaction.

Lowly bunny street kid lecturing him. He should know better.

“But you really should know better, Yoongi,” Taheyung turned towards him, and Yoongi bristled at having his thoughts echoed back at him.

“Oh, do enlighten me, honorable teacher,” Taehyung’s eyes narrowed, but Yoongi didn’t care, “how should I know better?”

Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Acting out like this will only serve to make you miserable. You might as well accept and make the best of your situation.”

A burst of cold, humorless laughter erupted from Yoongi’s chest as anger and dread flooded his entire body.

“Well, some of us know our worth and won’t gleefully accept a life as an empty-headed toy for perverted wannabe nobles, unlike low-class dirty escorts like you.”

Gasps erupted around the table as Taehyung’s eyes widened. Yoongi saw a brief flash of hurt move across his perfect face before Taehyung’s eyes went hard. Taehyung held out his hand, pausing Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook in whatever they’d been about to say in his defense. Even Seokjin, whom Yoongi had found a quiet comradery in, looked at him with wide, surprised eyes.

Yoongi wasn't wrong. He wasn’t. He’d only told the brutal truth.

“Well,” Taehyung said, something that sounded almost like disappointment in his voice, not even looking at Yoongi as he tapped away on his holoscreen, “some of us know how to be decent human beings and make the most of our situation, unlike haughty, prideful nobles like you who only know how to put others down and whine like pampered babies.”

“Wha- don’t you dare speak to me like that!” Yoongi growled. Taehyung appeared unimpressed.

“I’ve alerted the Master to your behavior, and you can either confine yourself to your room until he contacts you, or I can have the guards remove you.”

“So you couldn’t handle the truth and tattled on me like some child?” Yoongi stared Taehyung down, but Taehyung didn’t respond, just met his gaze head-on.

“Fine!” Yoongi snapped, rolling his eyes, “I don’t want to spend more time with the lot of you than I have to.”

With a flick of his tail, he turned around and stomped out of the room, grumbling under his breath.

—-

As the doors closed behind Yoongi, Jungkook snapped his gaze to Taehyung. The other consort let out a low sigh, loud in the otherwise silent room.

“What did you do?” Seokjin asked, staring at Taehyung with eyes full of suspicion.

“I reported his behavior to the Master and took disciplinary action,” Taehyung said, putting another strawberry in his mouth.

“You can do that?” Jungkook asked in awe.

“It’s my duty as your teacher, actually,” Taehyung said, popping another strawberry into his mouth, though it didn’t look like he enjoyed it the same as earlier, “though I didn’t want to, since I’m a consort like the rest of you.” Taehyung sighed and placed the strawberry he’d been about to eat down on his plate, “and I shouldn’t have. It was a lapse in judgment from my side, but I’ve made the report, so I can’t take it back now.” Taehyung bowed his head slightly, “I promise I won’t do it again.”

“He deserved it,” Jimin said quietly, startling when they all turned their attention to him, “I- I mean-” he stammered, “what he said was really hurtful, and he broke the master's new rule.”

Taehyung smiled, “he did, but still, I shouldn’t have done it.”

Personally, Jungkook agreed with Jimin, but if Taehyung regretted doing so, who was he to tell him otherwise? He did hope Yoongi would think twice before being mean to Hoseok again.

—-

Namjoon looked at his reflection in the mirror. He’d let Taehyung handle finding costumes for him and Jimin, but now he slightly regretted his decision. He had confidence in his own body, but still having his whole chest and stomach exposed wouldn’t have been his first choice.

He looked good, though. Really good.

Taehyung had chosen well despite the exposed skin. Around his hips, a golden sash held a pair of loose, wide-legged, golden-embroidered black pants in place. Right below his knee, the pants met with high, soft black leather boots with golden threads that wrapped tightly around his calves. A soft, wide-sleeved dark blue silk robe with elaborate golden embroidery rested on his shoulders, the hems almost touching the floor. Several golden bangles and rings with precious stones shone on his wrists and fingers. Long, delicate gold chains moved against his bare chest, and a chain around his head held a gemstone in the center of his forehead under his hairline. Taehyung had also insisted on lining his eyes with heavy black, making his own features appear foreign to Namjoon.

He gave his reflection one last one-over before turning around and heading for the lobby.

He’d overslept, and by the time he awoke, his consorts had already finished lunch. Waking up to a report from Taehyung about the disciplinary action he’d taken against Yoongi had only made him sigh. Just like Dr. Moonbyul had specified, Namjoon had only asked Yoongi if he wanted to talk about why he’d broken the rules - no punishment or judgment, just a chance to talk. Yoongi had declined with a curt no, and Namjoon had let it go, absolving his confinement. Then he’d ordered afternoon tea and invited them all to join him. Unsurprisingly, Seokjin and Yoongi had declined, but so had Jimin and Taehyung because ‘perfection takes time, master’ - whatever the hell that meant. So he’d had a comfortable and amenable afternoon tea with Hoseok and Jungkook. He’d been happy to see that Hoseok’s eyes had lost their redness and that the pup didn’t act differently with him. He’d told them the new dance studio would be finished in a day or two, and their bright smiles and earnest thank-yous made his dimples pop.

After that, he’d begrudgingly gone through Taehyung’s prescribed ‘beautification ritual’ as he called it. Which basically meant picking the spa setting for his shower and letting his hygiene station apply a peeling mask and rub down his skin until it was red and soft.

Now here he was, on his way to the entrance hall, smelling like he’d dropped a whole rack of perfumes over his head and dressed like a character from Aladdin. If not for the fact that he knew this was his only chance to get close to Choi Minho, he would never participate in a fucking costume ball.

The sliding doors to the entrance hall slid open in front of him, and Namjoon paused in his tracks, struck dumb by this sight in front of him. Jimin turned towards him at the sound of the door opening, a soft white fabric billowing around his legs, shifting as he moved, offering a glimpse of his legs through the open slits that ran from his hips down to the floor. Delicate chains with precious stones peeked through the slits, sitting prettily against the skin of Jimin’s thighs and ankles. Mirroring Namjoon’s outfit, Jimin’s midriff was bare, more chains circling a slender waist that made Namjoon want to hold it. A heavy golden neckpiece sat against Jimin’s skin, holding up Jimin’s top made of two pieces of white fabric concealing his pecs before wrapping around his sides, ending in a knot on his back. Above the neckpiece sat a simple band of gold - almost too simple of a choker, but it matched the multiple round bangles shining on Jimin’s wrists and upper arms. Jimin’s embed shone like a delectable piece of jewelry on his upper sternum, showing the whole world who he belonged to.

Namjoon swallowed his mouth suddenly as dry as the surface of the Sahara desert.

Saying a quick prayer, he raised his gaze to Jimin’s face.

A beautiful sheen painted Jimin’s mouth, highlighting his lush pillow lips. Crystals lined the underside of his eyes, making the silver in his irises sparkle, even as Jimin shifted his eyes shyly away. Mirroring Namjoon, a chain around his head held a crystal in place on Jimin’s forehead. However, Taehyung didn’t stop there. He’d given Jimin extensions - fucking long extensions, making Jimin’s beautiful silver hair kiss his waist. The front had been pulled back, fastened with more crystals and delicate chains, framing his face beautifully.

Namjoon was so fucked.

How in the living hell was he supposed to leave Jimin’s side, let alone concentrate on what he was supposed to do tonight? How could he when Jimin looked like that?

Jimin shifted nervously under Namjoon’s continued stare, revealing those damned chains on his plush thigh, making Namjoon’s gaze move to them almost like on command.

A low chuckle disturbed Namjoon in his revering.

“I think you’ve broken Master, Jiminie.”

“Taehyung,” Namjoon managed, painfully aware of how strained his voice sounded, as he finally shifted his gaze away from Jimin and settled on Taehyung, who was barely concealing a shit-eating grin, “have you made it your own personal mission to torment me?”

Taehyung stopped trying to conceal his grin, openly laughing at Namjoon’s plight, as Jimin shifted a nervous gaze between them.

“Why yes, in fact, I find great amusement in it.”

The nerve of that cheeky bastard.

“You needed him to be a distraction, didn’t you?” Taehyung said, putting a calming hand on Jimin’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well, mission accomplished. Looking like he does, he'll draw the eyes of every freaking person at that ball.”

Jimin’s wide-eyed gaze snapped to Namjoon’s face.

“He,” Namjoon stammered, “fucking hell, Taehyung, he looks like a dream.”

A delicious blush spread across Jimin’s cheeks, and oh no, that only made him look even better. Fuck. Namjon wanted to keep flustering him, repeatedly making that blush appear on his cheeks. To see him squirm in embarrassment at Namjoon’s lavish compliments. And…no, focus! Namjoon mentally shook himself, scowling as he noticed Taehyung’s knowing grin.

“Lord Choi will be so distracted by our Jiminie that he’ll forget all about you, master.” Taehyung said, his eyes growing serious, “he’s not going to be able to leave him alone, and that will give you the chance you need.”

Namjoon sighed. Taehyung was right, of course. But he needed to leave Jimin’s side for the plan to work. Which would be incredibly hard.

“You’re right, Taehyung. You did well.”

“I know,” Taehyung grinned, “now, tell Jiminie how good he looks while I go fetch his shawl.”

And with that, Taehyung left them alone, throwing one last knowing look in Namjoon’s direction.

Jimin had his gaze fixed on his bare feet, shifting nervously. With a smile, Namjoon stepped closer, noticing how Jimin stiffened. Not good. He’d have to help Jimin relax and get comfortable with him before they left.

Namjoon stopped right in front of Jimin, who resolutely kept his gaze down.

“Angel,” Namjoon said quietly, smiling at the slight shiver that ran through Jimin’s body, “could you look at me?”

Jimin barely shifted his face, gazing up at Namjoon through his lashes. Namjoon chuckled. He raised his hand, pausing it just below Jimin’s chin.

“Can I touch you, Angel?”

A sharp intake of breath, then Jimin nodded.

Namjoon placed a gentle finger under Jimin’s chin, smiling when Jimin let him tilt his head back.

“There you are,” Namjoon whispered, chuckling when Jimin blushed and averted his gaze. “You look…” Namjoon paused, drawing in a deep breath, “you truly look like a celestial being.”

Jimin shifted his gaze back, meeting Namjoon’s.

“Thank you for doing this for me,” Namjoon said, gently cupping Jimin’s full cheek, “my beautiful Angel.”

“You…you don’t have to thank me, Master,” Jimin said, looking everywhere but at Namjoon, “you got me away from that horrible auction house and from those…” he shivered, “...horrible people.”

Remembering the bits and pieces of conversations he’d heard from the crowd around Jimin made Namjoon’s jaw clench

“Besides,” Jimin continued fiddling with some of his bangles, “I’m your consort now. This is what I’m supposed to do for you.”

“Angel,” Namjoon said, pausing until Jimin looked at him, “I told you before I bought you that I wouldn’t force you.”

Jimin’s eyes widened.

“You’re not supposed to do anything for me unless it’s something you’ve agreed to yourself. None of you are.”

Jimin didn’t say anything; just looked at him with those wide eyes. Before Namjoon could say something else to break the tension, Taehyung returned holding a big, soft white woolen shawl.

“Here you go,” he said, gently wrapping the shawl around Jimin’s shoulders. “You better get going, Master. I know fashionably late is a thing, but we shouldn’t give Lord Choi a reason to be irritated with you today.”

“You’re right,” Namjoon said, offering Jimin his arm, “last chance, Angel.”

Jimin briefly stood frozen, then linked his arm with Namjoon’s.

“Let’s go, Master,” he said, looking up at Namjoon with a brilliant smile that made his eyes disappear into crescents.

“Sure, Angel,” Namjoon said, “let’s go.”

—-

The high-speed rail trip to Lord Choi’s mansion barely took an hour. Namjoon always disliked the speed with which everything moved as rails transported the car down the lane at 500 km/h; however, Jimin’s awed expression and eager puppy-like excitement had made him tell his driver not to dim the windows.

He regretted that decision once they drove off the rail, his head swimming at the sudden drop in speed. He should look into getting a mod that negated car sickness. He had so many already, so what difference would one more make?

By the time they arrived, a line had formed in front of the lavish entrance to the ground of Lord Choi’s mansion, but Namjoon’s sigil on the car's license plate had the guards waving them past the lines and through the gates.

They drove down a long road lined by giant old trees, gardens on both sides inspired by the gardens at Versailles, just like Choi’s mansion had been modeled after French castles.

As they approached Lord Choi’s estate, Jimin started fidgeting, repeatedly moving his hand towards his mouth as if to bite a nail, only to catch himself and forcefully lower his hand back to his lap. The fifth time, Namjoon gently grabbed Jimin’s hand and held it in his own.

“It’ll be okay, Angel.” Namjoon soothed, gently running his thumb along Jimin’s skin, as Choi’s mansion finally appeared before them. Huge projectors made the white walls sparkle, and the vast estate shone like a diamond in the approaching twilight. A small line of cars waited for their turns as, one by one, the elites embarked from their vehicles and entered up the marble stairs and through the open mahogany doors.

Namjoon already wanted to go home.

So did Jimin, judging by the tremors in his hand.

“I know. I- I can do this, Master,” Jimin said, fierce determination shining in his silver eyes, even as his hand shook in Namjoon’s grip.

Namjoon wanted to turn around and keep Jimin safe within the walls of his estate. He wanted to guard him like a possessive dragon would a hoard of gold, preventing anyone from ever laying eyes on or touching him ever again.

His therapist would probably tell him these were unhealthy thoughts and that he shouldn’t indulge them, but by God, if the idea wasn’t tempting.

It became their turn to embark, and an impeccably dressed slave hurried to open their door while bowing low. Namjoon exited the car and offered his hand to Jimin, helping him leave the vehicle. Immediately, he felt eyes on them, the nobles waiting around on the stairs and in the foyer, eyeing them with excitement as they slowly ascended the stairs. Jimin pressed himself close to Namjoon’s side.

As they entered the foyer lit by old-style candlelight, the floral scent from the numerous flower arrangements on every surface permeated the air. A slave appeared at their side, offering to take Jimin’s shawl. Namjoon had half a mind to ask Jimin to keep it on, but he nevertheless stepped behind Jimin, gently removing the soft wool from his shoulders. Excited whispers erupted around them as Namjoon handed the shawl to the waiting slave. He already knew the reaction would be like this. The elusive Kim Namjoon showing up to a huge social event, not in the company of Jackson Wang, but instead with a new consort with a shining embed on his sternum worth more than the estate of a lesser noble would, of course, garner a reaction. If the response had been less, Namjoon might have felt offended.

Offering his arm to Jimin with a smile, he led them into the mansion and toward the answers he craved.

—-

Jimin swallowed through the lump in his throat as Namjoon guided them deeper into the mansion.

He’d never been near a place like this. In every direction he looked, everything screamed wealth, from the glittering chandeliers lit with live candles to the gilded decorations on the walls to the dozens upon dozens of flower arrangements. The people weren’t much different. Jewels and finery dripped off them as they tried to fill out their costumes. Their heavy gazes raked over Jimin’s exposed skin as they walked past them, and their loud whispers brushed against his ears. His chest constricted, making it hard for him to breathe, as he felt himself teleported back to that auction hall, to that cold chair with chains wrapped around his wrists.

‘It’s just a performance, Jiminie.’

Taehyung’s voice floated through his mind, and the tight feeling in his chest lessened.

‘Just remember how you feel during a performance, and you’ll be fine.’

Jimin drew in a deep breath.

That’s right, he would be fine. He’d performed in front of more people than this. He’d even performed in less clothing before. He could do this. It was just another performance. He straightened his back, forcing calm to settle in his body. He let years of training take over his body and felt his movements become more controlled, making him look light and graceful. He moved just right so the loose fabric around his legs moved with his steps, showing off his legs and the glittering jewelry Taehyung had fussed over for ages.

Instead of shying away from the eyes on him, he smiled coyly, doing his very best to draw every single person to the performance he was putting on. Despite how flustered hearing his Master’s praise had made him, he knew he looked good and how his performance aura could draw people in.

Next to him, he felt a tension he hadn’t noticed seep out of Namjoon’s body.

He glanced up at Namjoon and found him already smiling at him.

Namjoon put his hands over Jimin’s and squeezed it.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and Jimin blinked in confusion. Namjoon didn't elaborate but led them into the ball hall instead. Live classical music flowed through the room, along with the buzz of several conversations. Numerous costumed people filled the area, some in groups, others lone wallflowers. Several round pedestals broke out the room into different spaces. Scantily clad slaves graced the top of the pedestals, frozen into various graceful dance-like poses. In the middle of the room, rows of people moved together in a choreographed dance called the Quadrille. Taehyung had told him about this dance type and even taught him some variants. Apparently, it had been a common thing amongst high society in Europe. Everyone knew these predetermined dances and joined in together during events. Jimin found the idea peculiar, but the dances Taehyung had taught him had been surprisingly fun. Close to where they entered, a bar space saw lots of activity, people flocking to it to get their drinks of expensive alcohol. At the far end of the room was a small stage-like podium where a group of musicians sat. Behind the podium, a large screen showed idyllic landscapes from before the war. Archways in the wall to their right led to a smaller room that looked filled with soft chairs and couches arranged in small half circles facing a wall of windows with a view over the vast gardens.

What stood out to Jimin the most was the number of slaves in the room. Of course, he’d noticed the dozen or so slaves posing on the pedestals first - and he’d watched with apprehension as guests walked up to them and led them away towards closed doors on the left side of the room, their space immediately filled by a new slave. He’d never seen sex slaves before, and seeing them displayed and used so openly like this left him feeling queasy. Taehyung had warned him that they’d be there and had told him that it was common in noble gatherings, yet it still surprised him. On the floor, several house slaves milled about, offering refreshments and keeping the space clean. Beautifully clad slaves who hung off the arms of men and women alike, laughing brightly and engaging enthusiastically in conversations, would most likely be escort slaves. Jimin wondered if Taehyung had gone to many gatherings like this, dressed in finery just like those beautiful slaves, laughing and flirting with nobles, keeping them company - not because he found them delightful, but because he had to.

Jimin had never thought about what it meant to be a slave or wondered about the fate of the slaves he encountered. Still, now, being one himself, he couldn’t help but wonder about their lives and what had happened to them that had led to them being here in this very room.

“Lord Kim!” A loud voice interrupted Jimin’s thoughts, making him flinch in surprise.

“Lord Choi,” Namjoon replied, turning them towards the approaching man, then dipping into a bow, which Jimin readily followed, making sure that he bowed lower and stayed down longer.

“I’m so glad you chose to attend,” Choi continued as Jimin slowly straightened, “and you brought your lovely new consort.”

Jimin supposed that Lord Choi would be described as charming and good-looking. He had straight brown hair, clear brown eyes, and symmetric features; some might even call a man like him handsome.

However, when Choi’s gaze and pleased smile fell on Jimin, he felt far from charmed; no, what he felt was more like repulsion as Choi let his eyes run up and down his body. When his gaze finally settled on Jimin’s face, he saw the same greedy possessive shine as he’d seen on countless others at the auction house.

It seemed fitting that a man like that had chosen to dress as Caesar - the golden circle of laurel resting on his hair glittering with precious stones and the leather armor adorned with glittering thread and sparkling golden buckles.

Jimin pressed himself closer to Namjoon, trying not to show his discomfort. Namjoon tightened his hold on his arm in response, and Jimin felt safer for it.

“It’s an honor to attend one of your gatherings, Lord Choi, and may I just say your reputation as a true maestro of extravagant parties fails to do you justice.”

Jimin cringed at Namjoon’s overdone flattery, but it seemed to work as Lord Choi stood straighter, puffing up his feathers.

“And I’m delighted to show off my dear Jiminie, one of my new six treasured crown jewels.”

“A treasure indeed,” Choi agreed, his dark eyes raking over Jimin’s body. He extended his hand, “allow me to greet you properly, dear Jimin.”

Jimin suppressed a shiver as he put his hand in Choi’s.

“I’m beyond honored to receive your greeting, Lord Choi,” Jimin said, remembering to smile and avert his gaze coyly as Lord Choi raised Jimin’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

“Oh no,” Choi purred, gaze burning, “the honor is all mine.”

He kept Jimin’s hand in his grip for far longer than was polite, especially considering Jimin’s master was beside him. When he finally let go, Jimin resisted the urge to wipe the traces of Choi’s lips away against his clothes.

“Say, Lord Kim, why don’t I give your lovely consort a tour of the place,” Choi said, barely shifting his gaze to Namjoon as he spoke, “it would give you a chance to explore and enjoy all that my extravagant party has to offer.”

This was the perfect opportunity for Namjoon to slip away and for Jimin to keep Choi distracted.

Yet Namjoon hesitated.

“I couldn’t possibly inconvenience the host of the party like that,” Namjoon said with a brief bow of his head, “people would think you’re playing favorites.”

Jimin looked up at Namjoon, trying to catch his gaze. Was Namjoon hesitating because he’d sensed how uncomfortable the lord made him?

Choi laughed, “Oh my dear Lord Kim, I am playing favorites, but as the host, I’m allowed to do so,” he held out his arm, clearly offering it for Jimin to take, “come, dear Jimin, let me show you around.”

“I-” Namjoon began but paused as Jimin let go of his arm and instead took Choi’s.

“If it pleases you, my lord,” Jimin said, looking up at Choi through his lashes with a shy smile before he turned to Namjoon, “please allow it, Master,” he pleaded in a sugar-sweet voice, “we shouldn’t turn down the lord’s kindness.”

Namjoon blinked, then seemed to gather himself, “you’re right, my dear,” he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Jimin’s cheek, “have fun on your little tour.”

Jimin stared at Namjoon in shock as he straightened, the skin where his lips had been burning.

“I’ll make sure he has a wonderful time,” Lord Choi said, promptly turning them around and away from Namjoon. Jimin pressed himself close to Choi’s side, looking up at him with a brilliant smile as he guided them towards the dance floor.

“How do you like my party, Jimin?” Lord Choi asked him, squeezing Jimin’s arm.

“It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, my lord,” Jimin said, letting amazement color his voice.

A grin appeared on the lord's face, “I’m glad. Now that you’ve become a consort, you’ll get to go to parties like these often.”

Lord Choi walked them down the side of the dance floor, smiling and nodding in acknowledgment at the many people who greeted him. The sounds of merriment from the couples in the Quadrille and their bright smiles made Jimin ache to participate.

“If my Master wants me to,” Jimin said, and Lord Choi patted his hand.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, sweet thing; with how you look, your master will show you off every chance he gets.”

Jimin giggled and fluttered his lashes coyly as he leaned against Choi, “my lord, no need to compliment me so.”

“Oh, but I disagree,” Lord Choi grinned as he brought them to a stop near the podium, “there is always a need to compliment beautiful boys.”

Ugh, this man was giving Jimin the creeps.

“Lord Choi,” a loud voice saved Jimin from replying as an older man dressed in some form of Naval uniform made his way over, a stunning panda hybrid on his arm. Jimin supposed he looked just like her to onlookers. The only difference between them was the embed on his sternum. He was a consort, she an escort.

“Lord Kang,” Choi held out his arm, grabbing Kang's forearm in greeting. Taehyung had made Jimin memorize the most influential lords that would attend the ball, but he didn’t remember learning about Lord Kang.

Lord Kang’s eyes fell on Jimin.

“And who’s this lovely creature on your arm? A recent aquisition?”

Jimin shivered. The way these men thought scared him.

“Oh no,” Lord Choi laughed, “this is Lord Kim’s consort, the lovely Jimin.”

Jimin made sure to bow low, “greetings, my lord. It’s an honor.”

He flashed his most brilliant smile as he straightened. Lord Kang looked at him with wide, curious eyes before turning to Choi. The panda hybrid standing at Lord Kang’s side studied him unabashedly, surprise on her features.

“The Lord Kim?” Kang asked, disbelief in his voice, “the owner of Crystal Moon?”

“The very same,” Lord Choi put his hand on Jimin’s shoulder, pulling him closer, almost possessively, “I’m showing him around while Lord Kim enjoys all my party has to offer.”

Kang’s gaze went to the embed on Jimin’s sternum, “oh dear,” he mumbled before catching Jimin’s gaze, “do you know the name of the stone used for your embed, Jimin?”

“Yes, lord,” Jimin smiled, “my Master wanted the best, so he got blue diamonds for all six of us. We were told that only a dozen or so of this stone has been mined.”

Lord Kang looked faint, “well if anyone could afford stones like those, it would be Lord Kim. There’s six of you, you said?”

“Yes, my lord, he acquired all of us barely a week ago.”

“Well,” Lord Kang held his hand out for Jimin to take and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, “I must say he’s found himself a precious stone rarer than the one on your sternum.”

Jimin made himself giggle, “such smooth words, my lord.”

Kang let go of his hand, sending Choi a croaked grin, “you must be terribly upset that Lord Kim got to this one before you.”

Choi’s smile turned stiff, “well, you cannot win every time. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” Choi gave a curt nod of his head, effectively ending the conversation. The hybrid girl kept staring at him as Lord Choi guided Jimin past the two of them. Her unwavering stare unnerved Jimin.

“Do you know the steps to Les Lanciers, Jimin dear?”

Jimin forced his attention back to Choi.

“I’m terribly embarrassed to say that I don’t, my lord,” Jimin said, glancing at the dancing couples as they walked back towards the bar. He didn’t recognize the steps, which was probably for the best. He didn’t particularly feel like dancing with Choi.

“What a shame,” Choi said as he paused at the bar and waved down the bartender, “you’ll have to learn before next time.”

“Of course, my lord,” Jimin readily agreed. He really hoped there wouldn’t be a next time.

“The Japanese whiskey for me,” Choi said to the bartender, “and something sweet for my pretty boy.”

Ugh, Jimin wanted to hurl.

“Oh, Lord Choi,” Jimin giggled, holding his hand in front of his mouth to look bashful, “you truly flatter me too much.”

“Impossible,” Choi said with a smile, as the bartender placed two drinks in front of them, one plain whiskey and the other some elaborate pink concoction Jimin would have never ordered for himself - he’d much prefer the whiskey, “as I said before beautiful boys should be complimented. And a boy as pretty as you needs to be drowned in flattery.”

He pushed the pink monstrosity into Jimin’s free hand.

“Does your Master not smother you in compliments?” Choi asked as he guided Jimin towards the sofa arrangements, one of them miraculously emptying as they made their way over.

Jimin laughed, “Master does his best, but I fear his flattery isn’t up to par with yours, my lord.”

Lies, all lies. Jimin much preferred Namjoon’s sweet but sincere compliments and gentle actions to Lord Choi’s intolerable cocky and grandstanding behavior.

“Such a terrible shame,” Choi said as he sat on the couch, pulling Jimin down beside him. He slid his arm around Jimin’s waist, his gloved hand resting on Jimin’s bare side. Jimin had never before been so thankful for a pair of gloves.

“If you were mine,” Choi said, turning his body slightly towards Jimin, “you’d never go an hour without a word of praise.”

Jimin giggled like a smitten schoolgirl, “my lord, don’t jest. Someone might hear you and think you were serious.”

“I am serious, Jimin,” Choi said, his gaze fixed on Jimin’s face. It seemed like Taehyung and Namjoon had been right. Choi wanted to own him. Jimin waved Choi’s words away with a shy smile as he averted his eyes.

He deserved a medal for his acting at this point.

“Oh, but you are a joker, Lord Choi,” Jimin said, sipping his nauseatingly sweet drink to win some time.

“Minho.”

“Hmm, what did you say?” Jimin couldn’t possibly have heard that right, could he?

Lord Choi smiled at him, his gaze still dark and unnerving.

“Call me Minho, Jimin dear; I want to hear you say my name.”

Oh, for the love of-

“But- but my lord, I- I couldn't possibly,” Jimin said, averting his gaze, fidgeting nervously with his drink.

“Jimin,” Choi put his drink on the sofa table. Then, to Jimin’s surprise, Choi grabbed Jimin’s chin and forcefully turned his head back to face him, “say my name.”

His eyes were dark like pure obsidian, void of feelings, and Jimin hurried to obey.

“L- Lord Minho,” Jimin heard the way his voice wavered, but Minho didn’t seem to notice. He closed his eyes, joy and pleasure smoothing out his features.

“Again,” Minho commanded, his grip on Jimin’s chin tightening.

“Lord Minho,” Jimin repeated, his voice surer. This time, a shiver went through Minho. He opened his eyes, his dark gaze locking on Jimin again.

“I’ve wanted to hear you say my name like that since I first saw you.”

Jimin had to remind himself to stay where he was, to not flinch away, to not flee, and to not run straight to Namjoon.

“I- I’m honored to know you’ve been thinking of me, my lord.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Minho laughed, voice low and dark with want, “you haven’t left my mind since I first saw you dance. I knew I had to have you.”

“My lord,” Jimin gasped, not needing to fake his reaction this time, “you cannot say such things. I have a master.”

“That can be fixed, my dear, “Minho smiled, “I’m sure Lord Kim will be more than happy to let me become your master if presented with enough money.”

Jimin sure as hell hoped not. Also, what did Lord Choi mean when he said he’d been wanting him since the first time he saw him dance? When had he seen him dance?

“Besides, you were supposed to be mine,” Minho said as he let go of Jimin’s chin, cupping his cheek instead, “Namjoon put his hands on something that he never should have touched.”

Minho’s eyes flicked down to the embed on Jimin’s sternum, and disgust twisted his face.

“I assume he took you already?” Minho said, his eyes finding Jimin’s again.

“My lord?!” Jimin gasped, scandalized and highly uncomfortable.

“It’s regretful, truly, that I don’t get you pure, but I’ll make you forget his touch soon enough,” Minho ran his thumb across Jimin’s lower lip, pausing on the middle and putting pressure on it. Jimin shivered at the look of arousal on Minho’s face. He needed to get away.

He abruptly stood, “I- I need to go find my master,” Jimin stammered and turned around. Away, he needed to get away. He needed to find Namjoon!

A hand closed around his wrist.

“Not so fast, Jimin dear.”

A strong pull on his wrist made him stumble back until his back collided with Minho’s front. Minho’s arms locked around Jimin’s waist, keeping him in place before he could even think of escaping.

“Don’t make a scene now, pretty thing.”

Goosebumps erupted across Jimin’s skin at the feeling of Minho’s lips grazing his ear and the warm puffs of his breath.

“Please, my lord,” Jimin could barely keep his voice from shaking. He closed his eyes with a low whine as Minho’s fingers played with the delicate chain on his waist. “Please, let me go. I want to go to my Master.”

Jimin had partially agreed to go with Namjoon to this event as a stupid test. Jimin’d figured he’d test Namjoon and see if he would actually keep his word if he could trust him like Taehyung said. He’d figured it wouldn’t matter if Minho ended up being his master if Namjoon wasn’t to be trusted anyway. He’d been wrong. So so wrong. Even a Namjoon who’d broken his promise would be better than Lord Choi.

“Don’t make me angry, Jiminie,” Minho’s voice turned hard and cold, and Jimin stiffened in fear, “it won’t end well for you or Namjoon if you don’t do as I say.”

“What won’t end well for me?”

At the sound of Namjoon’s voice, Jimin’s eyes flew open. Namjoon stood before them, smiling politely, but anger shone in his eyes. Jimin launched forward, breaking free of Minho’s grasp and barreling into Namjoon’s side.

Namjoon huffed at the impact, then chuckled, “hey there.”

He pressed a kiss to the crown of Jimin’s head, and Jimin repressed a sob as he burrowed his face against Namjoon’s chest.

—-

“It seems my Angel missed me terribly,” Namjoon said, holding Jimin close with an arm securely around his waist as he stared Minho down, “I’m grateful you took the time to accompany him, but it seems Jimin has had enough partying for the evening.” He bowed curtly, “we’ll be taking our leave.”

Namjoon turned them around, worried by how much Jimin’s whole body shook.

“Just a moment, Lord Kim,” Minho called behind them. Namjoon knew he couldn't ignore him. Not here. Not with so many eyes on them. Not when Minho could grow suspicious of him if he didn’t act the part.

“Yes?” Namjoon turned halfway towards Minho, keeping his own body between Minho and Jimin.

“I originally invited you because I wanted to propose a deal to you, Lord Kim,” Minho said, his eyes hostile even if he still appeared polite, “won’t you come to my office before you leave?”

Namjoon couldn’t really say no in this circumstance.

“A deal, you say,” Namjoon squeezed Jimin tighter, “how intriguing. Of course, I can’t leave after such an interesting offer.”

“I thought so,” Minho said as he turned around and gestured for them to follow him.

“Don’t worry,” Namjoon whispered against the top of Jimin’s head, “I’m going to turn him down, and then we’re leaving.”

Jimin didn't reply, but his hold on Namjoon loosened, and as they walked through the ball hall, he slowly straightened until he walked with his back straight, confident and beautiful with his arm in Namjoon’s.

“Okay,” Jimin simply said as Minho opened a door next to the small stage, “I’ll trust you, Master.”

Namjoon didn’t know what he’d done to make Jimin trust him, but he’d make damn sure not to betray his trust.

“I’m sorry about how I behaved before Master,” Jimin said, lowering his voice as they neared the door, “I should have done better.”

One of Minho’s slaves held the door open for them, and they entered a lavish office. With Minho now within earshot, Namjoon didn’t get to tell Jimin that he had no reason to apologize; from what he’d heard, Minho had been a disgusting pig, but he made sure to make a mental note of it to tell him later.

“Please, sit down,” Minho gestured to the one office chair across from him. Lavish and expensive looking. The room was the same size as Namjoon’s office in his company building, but it appeared much smaller, filled to the brim with finery and huge bookcases filled with books that looked like they’d never been touched.

Namjoon eyed the one chair, trying not to let his annoyance show. Jimin gave his arm a soft squeeze, and Namjoon relented.

“So, tell me all about this deal you wanted to propose,” Namjoon said, sitting in the plush chair, crossing one leg over the other, “I’m terribly curious.”

—-

Jimin silently moved to stand behind Namjoon’s right shoulder. Taehyung had warned him that if Lord Choi got them alone to talk about buying Jimin off Namjoon, he would be treated like most nobles treated slaves - like an object with no rights. He’d felt Namjoon tense when he realized Choi didn’t intend to offer Jimin a chair. It somehow warmed his heart. If nothing else, Namjoon’s actions so far tonight had shown him how fundamentally different he was compared to nobles like Choi. So Jimin watched, heart hammering in his chest and bile in his throat, as he tried to remind himself that he’d decided to trust his master, just like he did at the auction house.

“I think you already know which deal I want to make, Lord Kim,” Lord Choi said, his eyes flicking to Jimin, “my invitation wasn't exactly subtle.”

Jimin turned his gaze down. He didn’t want to see how Choi’s eyes darkened every time he looked at him; he didn’t want to remember his lips brushing against his ear. Even though he knew he shouldn't, he put his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. It helped; the heat from Namjoon’s body against his skin immediately calmed him.

Namjoon hummed, “I have an inkling, but I’d like to hear it directly from you if you don’t mind.”

The leather of Lord Choi’s chair creaked as he leaned back, a broad smile on his face, “very well, I’ll indulge you.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Namjoon said, resting his hand atop Jimin’s, stroking his skin with his thumb. Jimin tried to focus on the feeling of Namjoon’s skin against his to drown out the rising panic in his stomach.

Please, please, please, don’t leave me here.

“To put it simply,” Choi said, pulling up a holoscreen, “I want to propose a trade of sorts.”

He pushed a couple of buttons on his screen, then closed it again.

“A trade for dear Jimin.”

Ice traveled down Jimin’s spine at the mention of his name.

“You see, I saw him dancing a couple of months ago, and I knew I had to add him to my collection.”

Jimin felt sick. Was that how Lord Choi saw him? As a pretty collectible to display on a shelf? And he still didn’t know when Choi had seen him dance. A noble like him in the audience would have caused a stir. There's just no way Jimin wouldn’t have been told. They were always informed in advance when a bigshot visited the theater.

“I was quite distraught when I learned you’d bought him, Lord Kim. Not that it’s any of your fault, of course,” Choi hurried to add, a broad, slippery smile on his face, “if I’d known someone would choose to buy him immediately, I would have done so myself.” Choi paused, and Jimin felt his eyes on him, burning against his skin. Jimin refused to acknowledge him, gaze stubbornly locked on the wall behind Lord Choi.

“You see,” Choi said, leaning forward, planting his elbows on the table and intertwining his fingers, “his father put him up for sale for me.”

The ground opened up underneath Jimin’s feet.

“What?” He gasped, gaze flicking from Namjoon to Choi’s smug smile.

“In exchange for Jimin, I’d annul his considerable debt,” Choi continued, his smile looking cruel and mocking in Jimin’s eyes. “The man has terrible luck with cards, yet he seems unable to stay away from my casinos.”

No. No, that couldn’t- Jimin’s father didn’t gamble anymore. He’d promised Jimin he would never touch a deck of cards ever again after they almost lost the academy.

“You’re lying,” Jimin heard himself whisper, “my father doesn’t gamble anymore.”

“Jimin, my dear boy,” Choi narrowed his eyes at him, “a consort is to be seen, not heard in my office.”

Jimin recoiled, a weird cocktail of fear, anger, and disgust mixing with the dread pumping through his body. Namjoon held his hand tighter, and Jimin managed to draw in a deep breath.

“I see you haven’t managed to train him yet,” Choi said to Namjoon, childlike joy on his face.

“Well,” Namjoon said, his voice low and rumbling with anger, “I think you and I have different views on managing our consorts.”

“Perhaps,” Choi said, “he’ll be trained well once he’s mine.”

“Assuming I’m willing to sell him, of course,” Namjoon interjected, his grip on Jimin’s hand turning almost painful. Jimin welcomed the feeling. It distracted him from the whirlwind in his mind.

“Well, since he was never meant to be yours to begin with, I’d assume you’d be understanding,” Lord Choi said, his smile growing sharp as he leaned back in his chair again.

“You assume too much,” Namjoon said, “I’ve grown quite fond of Jimin, you see.”

“I’m sure,” Choi grinned, “he’s an intriguing creature, but as I said before, I don’t plan on just buying him from you; I plan to trade.”

He pushed a button, then grinned at Namjoon as the door opened, “a beautiful dancer in exchange for another.”

“No,” Jimin whimpered, his hands flying up to cover his mouth as a familiar figure walked through the door. It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t be here.

“You called for me, master,” the newcomer said, kneeling next to Lord Choi, his head bowed and gaze fixed on the floor.

Jimin knew that voice. It belonged to his best friend, who was supposed to be in Japan, studying at Nagoya Royal Dance Academy.

“Tae- Taemin?” Jimin’s voice shook, just like the rest of him. He felt Namjoon turning in his chair, but he only had eyes on Taemin. He saw his body tense at the sound of his voice. Saw how his head lifted the tiniest bid before a tremor went through his body, and his head went down again. He stayed still, not acknowledging Jimin at all.

“Taemin, please, I don’t understand-” Jimin rushed towards his kneeling friend, but Namjoon’s arm wrapped around his middle, holding him close against his body.

“Jiminie, what’s going on?” Namjoon asked, holding him close, keeping him from shattering into pieces.

“I would assume they used to be friends,” Choi said, his eyes fixed on Jimin, “before his father sold him to me to pay off his last gambling debt.”

“No!” Jimin shouted, “father wouldn’t do that. Taemin- Taemin left to dance in Japan! He- he left to follow his dream.”

“As you can see,” Lord Choi said, holding his hand out and gesturing to the still kneeling Taemin, “Taemin was sold to me, just like you should have been.”

Jimin sobbed, his tears blurring his vision. Had that been how his father managed to save the academy? He’d sold Taemin to this- this creature of a man. And Jimin- Jimin hadn’t known. He’d gone on with his life, happy and pampered, as Taemin went through whatever sick training that had reduced his headstrong friend to kneeling on the floor like a subservient dog.

“So Lord Kim, here’s my proposal,” Choi said, “you give me ownership of Jimin, and I’ll pay what you paid for him at the auction house, and as a nice little bonus, you’ll get Taemin on top.”

Jimin didn’t know what to do. He felt paralyzed as he realized he could only save Taemin by taking his place. He should. He should make Namjoon leave him here and take Taemin with him instead.

“He’s very well trained. I’m sure you’ll come to appreciate my view on training after owning him for a while,” Choi grinned, “he’s the perfect pretty little thing and a sublime fuck. He’s been thoroughly trained in that department as well.”

Oh god, Jimin was going to be sick.

“You can raise your head and answer when spoken to, Taemin.”

“Yes, Master,” Taemin said and raised his head. Jimin could barely recognize his voice. It sounded lifeless. Jimin sobbed at the sight of Taemin’s eyes; they were void of feeling - non-seeing and far away. Jimin tried desperately to catch his gaze, to see even the slightest sign that his friend was still in there, but Taemin’s gaze was focused on something far away from this room.

“A pretty little thing, isn’t he,” Choi said, looking proud of what he’d done to Taemin, how he’d turned a beautiful, vibrant boy into an empty husk. Would that be Jimin’s fate if he stayed here? Horror almost choked him. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t survive. But he had to. He had to! He couldn’t leave Taemin here.

“He’s beautiful, yes, and your offer is generous,” Namjoon said, his voice sounding strange to Jimin. Cold almost. “But I’m not selling Jimin to you.”

Relief flooded Jimin’s body seconds before guilt crashed into him, making him feel sick.

“No,” Jimin turned around in Namjoon’s hold, his trembling hands settling on Namjoon’s bare chest as he caught his eyes, “you- you can’t, I can’t leave him here.”

Namjoon’s face looked like a marble statue, and his usually kind eyes were dark, so sharp and ice-cold Jimin could barely hold his gaze. He’d never seen Namjoon like that before.

A gentle smile softened Namjoon’s statuelike mask and thawed his frozen eyes. He hugged Jimin tight, whispering against his ear, low enough for only the two of them to hear, “don’t worry, I’ll get him out of here. I promise.”

Jimin gasped and drew back, studying Namjoon’s face. His eyes were his own again, warm and sure.

“Promise me,” Jimin whispered.

“On my life,” Namjoon mimed, and Jimin decided to trust him once more. Namjoon turned his gaze back to Lord Choi, and Jimin saw the mask falling back into place, the ice turning his eyes dark and sharp.

“If that’s all, we’ll be leaving,” Namjoon said with a curt bow of his head. Jimin tried to catch Taemin’s gaze again, to make him know he wasn’t leaving him here. That he would be back for him. But his friend's gaze stayed empty.

“Making an enemy out of me won’t do you any good, Namjoon,” Lord Choi said, all pleasantries gone from his voice, and his smile turned downwards into a scowl.

Jimin froze.

“Master, maybe we shouldn’t-” he started, but Namjoon just drew him in and turned him towards the door. Jimin burrowed himself into Namjoon’s side as he gently guided him out of the room.

Home, they were going home. Namjoon didn’t leave him here, and he would rescue Taemin. Because he promised. He’d promised he would.

Just before the door closed behind them, Namjoon paused. Jimin peered up at Namjoon’s face as he turned his head around and smiled at Choi.

“I’m used to having enemies, Lord Choi,” Namjoon said, “and I never show them any mercy.”

Chapter Text

Fury burned like wildfire through Namjoon’s body.

Jimin sat curled against him, sobbing quietly as the high-speed rail transported them back towards Suwon. Namjoon hadn’t paused to grab Jimin’s shawl, so he’d wrapped his robe around Jimin’s shoulders. Jimin had it wrapped around his body like a shield, cocooning himself against Namjoon’s side.

Each sob felt like a stab to Namjoon’s heart, fueling the rage that burned in his chest.

He’d only planned to extract information about the Dawn project from Minho’s system, but now? Now Namjoon was going to burn everything he owned.

He tapped the bangle on his left wrist and drew up his holoscreen, remotely accessing the small driver he’d inserted into one of the internal network routers in Minho’s house. With a few clicks on his screen, he’d cloned Minho’s entire internal system.

He’d know everything.

Every illegal trade. Every single speck of dirt.

It would truly be such a shame if someone leaked all that information to the press. It would also be such an unfortunate coincidence if the owner of the most used online platform - Namjoon - just so happened to pin all those articles to the front page.

What a terrible, terrible shame that would be.

He’d have to call up one of his associates - maybe Soohyun, she’d made her dislike of Minho crystal clear - and have them swoop in and buy out Minho’s entire estate once the scandals had ruined him. Then Taemin could be freed. If Minho had even the tiniest bit of sense, he would try to contact Namjoon before that with an offer to free Taemin in exchange for pulling back all the articles on him. If that happened, Namjoon would take the deal of course - he could just have new articles released later.

“Master.”

Namjoon immediately closed his holoscreen at the sound of Jimin’s soft whisper.

“What’s wrong, angel?”

“Was he telling the truth?” Namjoon could barely hear Jimin’s question, his voice so thin and fragile.

Namjoon hesitated. Minho had no reason to lie, but that probably wasn’t the answer Jimin needed to hear right now.

“I don’t know, angel.” Namjoon said, gently running his hand in circles against Jimin’s back, “but I can find out if you want me to.”

Jimin tensed, and for a long time, he said nothing. Namjoon didn’t press for an answer; he just kept rubbing circles against Jimin’s back.

“Please,” Jimin whispered eventually, warm drops falling on Namjoon’s skin, “I need to know.”

“Okay,” Namjoon pulled up his holoscreen, sending a quick message to his Center of Information, “I’ll see what I can find. But angel,” Namjoon gently squeezed Jimin’s middle, “you might not like the answer.”

“I know,” Jimin’s voice cracked, his whole body shaking as he cried.

—-

Seokjin walked into the entrance hall, determined to be there once Namjoon returned alone. He wanted to witness the moment Namjoon proved who he was once and for all.

Sure, he might have made some points when they talked in his office, but Seokjin didn’t trust him. The man had power beyond belief was clever, charismatic, and with no conscience - the worst possible combination.

Seokjin clicked his tongue in annoyance when he noticed he wasn’t alone.

Taehyung, Jungkook, and Hoseok sat on the raised stone edge around one of the water installations in the middle of the hall. Hoseok sat between the other two, his gaze glued to the front door. Typical dog hybrid behavior, Seokjin thought, waiting eagerly for his master's return. Seokjin had nothing against hybrids per se, except he found most of them simple and driven by instinct that was below human logic and reasoning. At least it seemed like the two hybrids had bonded with poor Jimin, so even they wouldn’t stay loyal to a master who abandoned their friend.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that they were also here to witness Namjoon’s betrayal.

Hoseok’s ear twitched as Seokjin moved closer, but he didn’t acknowledge Seokjin’s presence. Unease swirled in Hoseok’s abdomen. Without Jimin here, his pack wasn’t complete, and his instincts didn’t like that one bit. Seokjin sat down on the far end of the stone edge with a slight huff, crossing his arms over his chest. Hoseok didn’t know what to think of Seokjin. He seemed so angry all the time, but he wasn’t lashing out at them the same way Yoongi was at least.

Jungkook snaked his arm around Hoseok’s middle, leaning his head on his shoulder as he yawned.

“If you’re tired, you should go sleep,” Hoseok said, jumping his shoulder teasingly, making Jungkook grunt, “you don’t have to stay here and wait with me.”

“Shush, hyung,” Jungkook grumbled, nuzzling his cheek against Hoseok’s bony shoulder, “I’m staying here with you.”

Hoseok chuckled, ruffling Jungkook’s hair, “okay, bunbun.”

“It might be a while before they return,” Taehyung said, his gaze fixed on the door as well. Hoseok had been surprised to find Taehyung already there when he and Jungkook had entered the foyer half an hour ago. Just like the two of them, he’d changed into soft indoor clothes, his long hair in a messy bun. Taehyung tried to hide it, but Hoseok could feel the nervous tension in his body. Even if Taehyung had reassured them that Namjoon was a good master, it seemed that he was still worried.

“Maybe, but we’ll wait until they do,” Hoseok put an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders and hugged him close to his side.

Taehyung relaxed ever so slightly against his body, “thank you, hyung,” he murmured.

Seokjin scoffed, but the three of them ignored him.

They sat silently for a while, then a sound reached Hoseok from outside, and he straightened, staring impatiently at the front door, ears lifting as he tried to catch even the tiniest of sounds.

Hoseok sprung to his feet, startling both Taehyung and Jungkook.

“They’re back!” Hoseok said, and Jungkook jumped to his feet next to him.

“Wait, both of them?” Hoseok ignored Seokjin, straining his ears. He could hear them walking from the car, but there was something-

“Something’s wrong,” Jungkook said, bunny ears standing straight, “Jimin’s crying.”

“What?” Taehyung jumped to his feet as well just as the front door opened to reveal Namjoon and Jimin.

Worry pulsed in Hoseok’s stomach at the sight of them. Jimin pressed to Namjoon’s side, huddled in a robe way too big for him. He could hear the small sniffles he let out, and his scent was all wrong. Namjoon noticed them first, his gaze locking with Taehyung, and something passed between them. He whispered softly to Jimin, and his head snapped up, his gaze finding the three of them.

Hoseok wished Jimin would have come home smiling instead, telling them of the wonderful night he’d had. He wished he could have the chance to tell him how stunning he looked; their master as well. Reality wasn’t as kind, though, and Hoseok watched with a hurting heart as tears emerged in Jimin’s eyes, his whole face twisted by sadness.

“Hyung,” he whimpered and lunged forward, barreling into Hoseok’s open arms. Hoseok huffed at the impact, but Jungkook’s steady hand on his lower back kept him from falling over. Hoseok whined softly, nuzzling against Jimin’s head as he cried, his whole body shaking in Hoseok’s hold.

“What happened?!”

Hoseok glanced at Taehyung, surprised by his hard and demanding tone.

Namjoon didn’t answer immediately, wrapping an arm around himself like his own nakedness made him uncomfortable.

“Can I tell them, angel?”

Jimin stiffened against Hoseok’s side, but he nodded.

Namjoon drew in a deep breath, letting it out as he said, “just as I suspected Minho wanted to buy Jimin-”

“And you let him, didn't you?” Seokjin cut in, a self-righteous grin on his face, shoulders all puffed up in his pink fluffy nightwear.

Namjoon gave him a stern glare, “no, Seokjin, I did not. And I don’t appreciate you trying to turn Jimin’s pain into some sort of victory for yourself.”

Seokjin huffed and rolled his eyes, “well, why is he crying then?”

“Because Minho is an even worse bastard than I thought,” Namjoon said, nodding thankfully at a household slave as they handed him a sweater. He pulled it over his head, looking more comfortable now. “He proposed not only to buy Jimin but also to trade.”

A deep shuddering sob left Jimin, and his grip around Hoseok’s waist turned almost painful.

“He brought out one of Jimin’s old friends. Purposefully humiliating him in front of us and hurting Jimin as much as he could,” Namjoon’s face turned hard, “and he heavily implied that Jimin’s father had been behind the sale then as well as Jimin’s now to pay off his gambling debt.”

Silence filled the room as Jimin sniffled against Hoseok’s neck.

“Oh, Jiminie-hyung, I’m so sorry,” Jungkook mumbled, wrapping himself around Jimin, cocooning him between Hoseok and himself.

“What happens now?” Taehyung asked into the silence.

“I burn him to the ground,” Namjoon said, his eyes blazing, “that’s what happens now.”

—-

Yoongi stared absentmindedly into thin air paused in his track as he waited for the rice cooker to finish. Usually, he’d be using this time to prepare vegetables to make fried rice, but the loud thoughts in his head had taken over. He hadn’t wanted to eat dinner with the other 4. He especially didn’t want to be confronted with Taehyung again. Not that he felt guilty about what he’d said earlier or anything. Instead, he’d requested for ingredients to be brought to the kitchen. Namjoon had his own separate kitchen from the one his household slaves used, even though it looked like he’d never used it. When Yoongi left his room to make himself some dinner, he passed Jimin’s room. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d overheard bits of conversation between him, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jungkook.

Jimin had been crying as he told the others of what had happened, how Minho had turned his best friend into a husk of himself that Jimin could barely recognize, that Jimin hadn’t known. How his father had most likely been behind it.

It hit a little too close to home for Yoongi. So he’d hurried past the open door, hoping they wouldn’t notice him.

But he couldn’t get the sound of Jimin crying out of his mind.

The rice cooker beeped, and Yoongi jumped in surprise.

Shaking himself out of it, he silenced the rice cooker and rummaged through the kitchen for the ingredients he would need. A calm settled within him as he went through the familiar motions, chopping up garlic and onions before throwing them into a pan to simmer in copious amounts of melted butter.

“That smells really good.”

Yoongi jumped with a loud curse, almost flinging the pan across the room.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!”

Yoongi whipped around, narrowing his eyes at Jimin, who stood on the other side of the large kitchen island. He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, small body dressed in soft pyjamas, and his eyes were red and puffy from crying. He looked miserable, and Yoongi didn’t have it in him to reprimand him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked instead.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Jimin said with a shrug of his shoulders, “thought a walk would help, then smelled food and followed my nose.”

Jimin smiled, but it looked sad, with his eyes so swollen.

“Yeah, well, why don’t you continue walking then,” Yoongi brushed him off as he turned back to his fried rice. He just needed to add rice and seasoning, and it’d be done. His stomach growled in anticipation.

The sound of a chair being pulled out made him turn around. Jimin sat at the island counter, elbows on the countertop and face in his hands, looking at him.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi just wanted to cook and eat in peace. He didn’t need Jimin and all his sadness anywhere near him.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Jimin said quietly, a shadow falling over his face.

Yoongi turned away from him, “yeah, well, that’s not my problem.”

Yoongi added the rice onto the pan, mouth watering at the smell. He was so hungry!

“Can I ask you something?”

Yoongi sighed, not even bothering to turn around this time, “only if you leave me alone afterward.”

He felt like he would regret this, but if it made Jimin leave him alone, then… Yoongi took a small bite of the fried rice, checking if it needed more seasoning. Humming happily at the taste, he turned off the heat.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but…” Jimin paused. Yoongi rummaged through the cupboards, looking for bowls.

“But what?” he prompted despite himself.

Jimin drew in a breath, “I was just wondering why you were sold?”

Yoongi froze, his entire body going rigid.

“So- sorry, I- I shouldn’t have asked,” Jimin said.

“No,” Yoongi could barely keep his voice from shaking, “you really shouldn’t.”

“It’s- it’s just,” Jimin sighed, and Yoongi could hear and smell his sadness,” I found out my father lied to me. He said an investment had gone wrong and convinced me to put myself up for sale to save the academy. But it was all a lie. He just had gambling debt!”

Yoongi’s shoulders dropped, and he sighed. He really didn’t want to have this conversation. He grabbed two bowls, hurriedly filling them with fried rice, trying to ignore Jimin’s sniffles.

“Here,” Yoongi grumbled, throwing down a bowl in front of Jimin, who startled and looked up at Yoongi with wide, wet eyes.

“Eat.” Yoongi sat down across from Jimin, digging into his food. Jimin sniffled, looking down at the bowl like he’d forgotten how to eat. With a small sniffle, he picked up his chopsticks and dug in. His eyes widened, and he looked up at Yoongi.

“This is really good!” He stuffed another bite into his mouth. Cheeks full and round like a chipmunk.

Yoongi huffed, unable to keep a small smile off his face, “this is nothing special, kid.”

Jimin didn’t answer; he just hummed and rocked happily from side to side as he ate.

Yoongi swallowed his last bite. Then, with a sigh, he gave in.

“My older half-brother sold me.”

Across from him, Jimin paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth.

Anger and hatred burned inside Yoongi. He really didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t really know why he was.

“My father died, you see,” Yoongi stod his bowl in hand and turned around to get himself more food, “it happened pretty suddenly.” Yoongi paused, suddenly not hungry anymore. He put his bowl in the sink. A household slave would probably clean it for him.

“My father had given us both small companies to run. He said whoever developed their company better would be named heir.” Yoongi kept his back to Jimin.

“Your father chose your older brother?” Jimin asked.

“Half brother,” Yoongi growled, tail flicking, “and no, he died before he could choose either of us. But my company did much better than his. I should have been chosen!”

Yoongi turned back towards Jimin, “but because my half-brother is the legitimate child, my father's board of directors chose him as the heir. However, that bastard knows I’m more capable, so to get rid of me, he sold me. My mother was a consort, and he had full ownership of me since I never got acknowledged as a legitimate heir.”

Jimin watched him with wide eyes, his food forgotten. “I’m so sorry.”

“Save it,” Yoongi turned away. He didn’t want to see the pity in Jimin’s eyes. It made him angry. He rummaged through the cupboards to distract himself; maybe he could find some decent tea somewhere. “He didn’t get to take the company away from me, though,” Yoongi grinned as he searched for the tea, “I never handed over the master code to the company's internal system, so I still have full control.”

“So you still own the company?”

Yoongi paused, a humorless burst of laughter leaving him

“Well, technically, I do, but I’m not allowed to.” Yoongi opened the last cupboard. He’d found the tea - every version of the brand from Yoongi’s own company. That fucking-

“What do you mean?”

“Consorts aren’t allowed to own companies,” Yoongi growled as he slammed the cupboard shut. He turned around, leaning against the countertop, his upper lip pulling back in a snarl, “but that wannabe noble just had to make me his consort.”

“Is- is that why you’re so angry?” Jimin asked quietly, ducking his head when Yoongi glared at him.

“That’s part of it, yeah. I was supposed to be a scribe! I would have been able to run my company and buy myself free within a year. I could have ruined my bastard half-brother, but our oh-so-amazing master ruined all of that!”

Yoongi reminded himself to take a deep breath.

“I’m sure Master didn’t know that,” Jimin murmured.

“I don’t really care, Jimin. That bastard chose to make me a consort as a childish challenge. I saw that look in his eyes. He just wanted to tame me and make me submit.” Yoongi growled, “I’ll never submit to him. Not in a million years.”

Jimin looked shocked. Yoongi turned away with a sigh, forcefully calming himself down.

“I’ve answered your question, so if you’re done eating, please leave me alone.”

He could feel Jimin hesitate, but eventually, his chair scraped across the floor as he stood.

“I don’t know what happened at the auction house, but from what I’ve learned about our Master, I think he would find a way to let you run your company if you wanted to,” Jimin said.

“Hah!” Yoongi huffed, “I’m sure he would rather force me to give up the company code and take it over than he would let me run it.” A thought struck Yoongi, and he whirled around, staring Jimin down, “don’t you dare tell him!”

Jimin smiled, “it’s not my story to tell,” he bowed, “thank you for the food and for answering my question.”

He turned around and left down the hall towards the living room. Yoongi just stared after him, suddenly extremely exhausted.

—-

Namjoon looked up from his holoscreens as the doors to his office opened. Taehyung stood in the open door, his hair still in the bun from earlier, but he now wore a long sweater that reached his mid-thigh, his long legs bare.

“Can I come in?” He asked, bending in a shallow bow.

“Of course,” Namjoon said, watching Taehyung as he walked closer. He didn’t bother to close any of the documents on his screens. It was all related to Minho, anyway. It didn’t matter if Taehyung saw.

Taehyung paused in front of his desk. He looked angry and exhausted in equal measure.

“How is he?” Namjoon asked quietly, and Taehyung let out a long breath of air.

“Honestly, not good,” Taehyung walked around the desk and sat on the corner, crossing his long bare legs. Namjoon tried not to run his gaze appreciatively along the long expanse of them, but he failed miserably. “But Jimin is strong. He’ll be okay. And he’s with Hoseok and Jungkook right now; they’ll take good care of him.”

“That’s good,” Namjoon caught Taehyung’s gaze, and the two of them just looked at each other for a while.

“Please tell me, you at least got what you came for?” Taehyung whispered, and Namjoon nodded.

“I did, and I cloned his entire system. I’m taking him down, Taehyung.”

A broad grin spread on Taehyung's face, and he stood, walking behind Namjoon’s chair. He put his hands on Namjoon’s shoulders, leaning forward to peer at the information on Namjoon’s screens.

“Let me know if I can help,” Taehuyng said, his low voice tickling Namjoon’s ear.

“I have some of my people helping me, but once we’ve combed through all the information, there’ll be a list of names involved in Minho’s shady dealings. I’m sure you know most nobles better than I do?”

Taehyung hummed in agreement, thumbs pressing into the sore muscles in Namjoon’s back and shoulders.

“You can help me identify who we should ruin along with Minho and who might be better kept as allies or blackmailed?”

“I can do that,” Taehyung said, fingers moving deftly against Namjoon’s back.

It felt amazing, but it was also very distracting.

“Taehyung, what are you-”

“Shh,” Taehyung pressed against a particularly sore spot, and Namjoon groaned, “please let me do this; I need to feel useful right now.”

A certain note of desperation clung to Taehyung’s voice, so Namjoon mumbled a quiet agreement and returned to his documents. They worked like this for hours, Namjoon going through document after document and Taehyung offering input whenever he recognized a name or a place, his hands never stilling on Namjoon’s shoulders. When the list of names landed in Namjoon’s mailbox, they painstakingly went through it, putting down which nobles should take the fall alongside Minho, who should be used instead, and those few they needed to look further into.

Namjoon leaned back in his chair, sighing, “a lot of people are going to be very unhappy tomorrow.”

Taehyung chuckled, his arms wrapping around Namjoon, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“You were a lot of help, Taehyung,” Namjoon said, mindful of how eager his consort had been to feel useful.

“I’m glad,” Taehyung mumbled. Plump lips pressed against Namjoon’s temple, making him shiver. He would have let it go, but Taehyung brought his hand down, cupping Namjoon’s right pec through his sweater with an appreciative hum.

“Taehyung,” Namjoon grabbed his wrists and moved them away, turning to face Taehyung, “we talked about this already.”

Taehyung’s eyes were hooded, and heady vanilla permeated the air.

“We did,” Taehyung agreed, and stunning Namjoon, he crawled into his lap, straddling him effortlessly on the spacious chair.

By pure reflex, Namjoon grabbed onto Taehyung’s hips. He swallowed harshly as Taehyung leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“But you want me.”

Well, duh, as if the sky wasn’t blue.

“That’s beside the point,” Namjoon said, shivering as Taehyung ran his fingers through the hair on the back of Namjoon’s head.

“Maybe,” Taehyung agreed with a hum. He leaned forward, lips brushing against Namjoon’s ear, “but I need this.”

Taehyung’s breath against his ear had shivers running down his spine, and when teeth grazed Namjoon’s earlobe, he closed his eyes with a groan, fingers flexing on Taehyung’s hips.

“You see,” Taehyung gripped Namjoon’s hair and pulled his head to the side. Namjoon shouldn’t let him, but the pull on his hair felt so delicious. How could he ever resist this gorgeous man? Soft lips brushed against the side of his neck, and Taehyung placed fleeting kiss after fleeting kiss as he spoke, “I have a mod that makes me hypersexual.”

Namjoon had read that in his file somewhere - probably. Maybe. He wasn’t really sure about anything right now. Taehyung’s warm weight on his lap and his lips on his neck were hampering his ability to think.

“And I haven’t had sex in over a month,” Taehyung latched onto a patch of skin right under Namjoon’s jaw, sucking and biting at it. It took everything Namjon had not to grind up against Taehyung’s body.

But he shouldn’t let this go on.

“Taehyung!” Namjoon grabbed Taehyung’s shoulders and pushed him back. Taehyung grinned at him, the lust on his face making Namjoon’s mouth go dry and arousal simmered in his abdomen.

“Don’t you want me, master?” Taehyung breathed, slowly loosening his long red hair from its messy bun, letting it fall around his face, green eyes dark and piercing. He looked like sin and like everything Namjoon could possibly dream of.

The scent of vanilla in the air made Namjoon’s head dizzy and his body hot.

“I- well, I- of course, I do,” Namjoon stammered, barely holding back a groan as Taehyung took one of his hands into his own, guiding it down the line of his body to settle it on his ass. A very nice firm round ass that had Namjoon dying to squeeze. “But, I- this- we- are you sure?”

Taehyung smiled. A smile too soft for the situation they were in.

“I am,” he took Namjoon’s other hand, slowly guiding it along his body, “especially after today,” he settled Namjoon’s hand on his bare thigh, just below the hem of his sweater, and want burned through Namjoon.

“I trust you,” he guided Namjoon’s hand up under his sweater, and the heat in Namjoon’s body grew as he guided it further and further until he could cup Taehyung’s bare ass.

Namjoon groaned, “please tell me you took your underwear off just before you jumped into my lap. My brain can’t handle the thought of you helping me ruin several nobles with your ass bare.”

Taehyung threw his head back with a burst of laughter, “well, luckily for your brain, my underwear is currently on the floor.”

Taehyung held his gaze with a mischievous smile as he led Namjoon’s hand further, but Namjoon paused the movement.

“Are you really sure?” Want coursed through Namjoon’s body, but he couldn’t rush this. He had to make sure. He’d never forgive himself if he hurt Taehyung.

Taehyung smiled and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Namjoon’s mouth, “yes, Master, I’m sure, and…” he moved Namjoon’s fingers to the cleft of his ass, and Namjoon groaned at the slick wet heat a strong spike of arousal running through him, “I really need it.”

Taehyung captured Namjoon’s lips in a kiss, and with a growl, Namjoon responded. Taehyung guided Namjoon’s fingers until they pressed against his slick hole, and he whimpered into the kiss, his whole body shuddering against Namjoon’s.

“Please,” he gasped against Namjoon’s lips, lower lip already swollen from Namjoon’s teeth.

Unable to deny this temptress any further, Namjoon slowly pushed one finger inside Taehyung’s tight heat, his own cock chubbing up in his pants. Taehyung’s reaction was immediate. He threw his head back with a moan, fisting Namjoon’s sweater. He sounded so good. Namjoon wanted to hear him fall apart.

Namjoon watched him rapidly, carefully thrusting his finger inside Taehyung as best he could in this position. Taehyung whimpered and hid his face in the crook of Namjoon’s neck, latching onto a patch of skin there, working it over with his teeth and tongue. Namjoon could feel him, hard against his stomach, his body shaking against Namjoon’s.

“Shit, you really did need this,” Namjoon said, voice deep and gravely with arousal.

Taehyung nodded and whimpered, “more, please. I need- fuck, I need to come.”

“Okay,” Namjoon kissed the side of Taehyung’s head and lined up another finger. He gently pushed them against Taehyung, and his body opened easily. Taehyung let out a soft whimpering “yes” against Namjoon’s skin as his body took Namjoon’s thick fingers.

“I’ll take care of you, my beautiful, clever boy,” Namjoon whispered against Taehyung’s hair, fingers looking for that spot inside Taehyung that would give him what he needed, his small sounds of pleasure fueling the heat in Namjoon’s body. He crooked his fingers, pushing against Taehyung’s walls.

“Fuck,” Taehyung moaned, his grip on Namjoon tightening.

“Found it,” Namjoon grinned, mercilessly rubbing his fingers against Taehyung’s prostate.

“Shit, ngh, just like that. Ah, Master, just like that. Don’t stop.”

Taehyung’s body trembled against his, his moans against Namjoon’s neck growing louder. Namjoon grabbed Taehyng’s ass with his other hand, urging him to move his hips.

“Grind against me, sweetheart,” Namjoon murmured, groaning when Taehyung followed his directions with a whimper. He kept his fingers on Taehyung’s prostate, following the jerky grind of his hips, using his other hand to guide Taehyung’s movements.

“Just like that,” Namjoon licked his dry lips, his own cock now fully hard and aching in his pants. He could take care of that later; right now, all that mattered was Taehyung and his pleasure. Before long, Taehyung’s movements became erratic, the moans spilling from him broken and labored.

“Are you close?”

“Yes,” Taehyung groaned, “don’t stop.”

Namjoon let go of Taehyung’s ass, guiding his hand in front of Taehyung, under his sweater, and closing it around his hard cock, groaning at the size and weight of it.

Taehyung moaned, biting down on Namjoon’s neck as he stroked him quick and tight.

“Coming, shit, Master, I’m-” Taehyung’s voice cut off with a loud moan, his whole body convulsing. His walls locked down like a vice around Namjoon’s fingers as his release covered Namjoon’s hand.

Taehyung’s heavy breathing against Namjoon’s neck filled the silent office. The place he’d bit on Namjoon’s neck throbbed, but not as bad as his cock. It was harder to ignore how incredibly hard and turned on he was now, arousal burning in every cell of his body. He stayed still, though, waiting for Taehyung to come back down.

“Shit,” Taehyung groaned, and Namjoon chuckled, gently pulling his fingers from his body.

“Feeling better?” Namjoon asked, smiling at Taehyung when he emerged from his neck. He looked fantastic post-orgasm. His skin had a certain glow, and his lines were smoother than usual. It almost made up for missing how he looked when he came.

“Fuck yeah, but I’m not passing this one up,” Taehyung grinned, reaching down and cupping Namjoon through his pants. Pleasure burst through him, and Namjoon moaned, his hips twitching up on their own volition.

“Off!” Taehyung huffed, impatiently clawing at Namjoon’s fly. Namjoon sat frozen for a second, holding both hands away from Taehyung out in the air. When Taehyung managed to zip down his fly with a low grin, his brain picked back into gear.

“Wait, Taehyung, you don’t have to, you just-”

Taehyung leveled him with a look; his hands paused on Namjoon’s waistband, “do you or do you not know what being hypersexual means?”

Namjoon blinked, “I-”

“It means that even on a normal night, two orgasms are barely enough for me. Now, it’s been more than a month, so unless you really don’t want me to sit on your cock, I’m getting you out of your pants.”

Well, when he put it like that.

“You okay with that?” Taehyung asked, and Namjoon nodded dumbly, “good.”

Taehyung grinned, then he seemed to notice Namjoon’s predicament.

“Ah, sorry,” he mumbled, “look at me, so needy I forgot to take proper care of you,” he raised his arms and pulled his sweater over his head, “one would think I was an amateur and not an s-class consort.”

Namjoon sat stunned as Taehyung used his sweater to first dry off Namjoon’s hands gently and then his own stomach. He had more muscle definition than Namjoon had thought. His skin, blemish-free and soft, begged Namjoon to leave marks on it. Namjoon swallowed, arousal making his mouth go dry.

A finger under his chin tipped Namjoon’s head back up, and he met Taehyung’s amused gaze, “you alright there?”

Namjoon nodded, “mhm, just… You’re beautiful.”

Taehyung’s whole face softened, a delicious blush spreading on his high cheeks.

“Yeah?” he grinned, pulling Namjoon’s pants open. He nodded. Taehyung hummed, sliding his hand underneath the waistband of Namjoon’s underwear, making him shiver.

“You should see me when I ride cock.” He closed his hand around Namjoon’s hard cock, and Namjoon groaned. Taehyung gave his cock a few strokes watching Namjoon’s face with a mischievous smile.

“You’re huge,” Taehyung said, eyes dark and sparkling with want, as he bared Namjoon from his underwear. He lifted himself up, putting a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder for balance, “can’t wait for you to fill me up.”

He angled Namjoon’s cock, until the tip lined up with his slick hole. Namjoon’s whole body trembled with the effort to keep his hips still. Slowly, Taehyung lowered himself, both of them groaning as Namjoon entered Taehyung’s body.

“Shit,” Namjoon moaned, gripping Taehyung’s hips.

Taehyung groaned, settling his weight fully atop Namjoon. He felt amazing. Tight, wet, and warm around Namjoon. Taehyung wrapped his arms loosely around Namjoon’s neck, dark eyes fixed on Namjoon’s face as he shifted his hips. With a growl, Namjoon surged forward, crashing his lips into Taehyung, one hand tangling in his hair, angling his head as he kissed him. Taehyung settled on a quick rhythm, hips grinding back and forth, sending waves of heat and pleasure through Namjoon’s body.

Grunts and moans of pleasure brushed against kiss-wetted lips.

It felt good, but Namjoon burned with a need for more. With a frustrated grunt, he wrapped his arms around Taehyung, standing from the chair. Taehyung squeaked in surprise, wrapping his legs around Namjoon’s waist and arms around his neck, then giggled as Namjoon turned them around.

He gently lowered Taehyung onto the desk. Around Taehyung, the holo screens flickered into life, and with an irritated huff, Namjoon waved them away. Taehyung’s long hair fanned out around him, his cheeks blushed, and his green eyes filled with arousal. Namjoon had never wanted anyone more.

Taehyung laughed and pulled Namjoon down, sifting his fingers through Namjoon’s hair, “so those muscles aren’t just for show.”

“They can be convenient, sure, but mostly, they’re for show,” Namjoon grinned, planting a hand next to Taehyung’s head for balance as he went for a kiss. Taehyung kept him there, biting and licking. Namjoon swallowed Taehyung’s moan as he shifted his hips forward, thrusting into his heat. Namjoon grabbed onto Taehyung’s hip and picked up the pace, making Taehyung whimper against his lips.

“Harder,” Taehyung edged him on legs tightening around Namjoon’s waist. Namjoon straightened, hovering over Taehyung, both hands digging into Taehyung’s hips. It would probably leave marks on Taehyung’s skin. Namjoon couldn’t wait to place kisses on each one. He snapped his hips forward, pace fast and hard, thrusting into Taehyung over and over, watching with awe as he came apart underneath him, moaning and whimpering with pleasure.

Namjoon tried angling his hips, grinning when Taehyung threw his head back with a loud moan.

“There,” he grinned, targeting that same spot inside Taehyung again and again, making him thrash and whimper in pleasure.

“Master,” Taehyung whined, fingers digging into Namjoon’s shoulders. Namjoon leaned forward, planting a hand next to Taehyung’s head, swallowing his moans with a kiss. Heat gathered in his lower abdomen, the telltale sign that he was getting close.

“Won’t last much longer,” Namjoon breathed, his rhythm faltering as the pleasure built inside him. Taehyung whimpered, his hand snaking between them to wrap around his hard cock. With a growl, Namjoon brushed his hand away, stroking Taehyung in tandem with the thrust of his hips.

Taehyung wrapped his arms around Namjoon’s neck, pulling him down. “Ah, close, shit, I’m- I’m close,” he whimpered against Namjoon’s lips.

Namjoon growled, his hand on Taehyung’s cock and his trusts growing uncoordinated as he chased his own pleasure.

“Fuck!” Under him, Taehyung’s whole body locked up, his walls tightening around Namjoon as he came. Namjoon watched Taehyung’s face intently as he came apart, refusing to miss it this time. He thrusted once, twice, then followed Taehyung over the edge.

Pleasure pulsed through him, and he groaned, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Taehyung’s as the waves of pleasure ran through him. Namjoon absentmindedly ran his fingers along Taehyung’s shaking thigh, their breaths mingling as they came down from their high.

Fingers sifted through Namjoon’s hair, gently scratching against his scalp.

“You okay?” Namjoon asked and opened his eyes. He found Taehyung already watching him with a soft smile on his lips, his face flushed but relaxed, green eyes shining.

“Mhm,” Taehyung hummed and captured Namjoon’s lips in a soft, slow kiss, “thank you.”

Namjoon chuckled, running his gaze over Taehyung’s face, “what for?”

“Everything,” Taehyung said, smiling widely.

—

Jimin woke up with a groan. He blinked, disoriented at finding huge floor-to-ceiling windows with a garden view before him. On either side of him, a warm body pressed against his.

Hoseok and Jungkook.

Right, he’d curled up on a couch in the living room, and the two of them had found him, refusing to leave him alone. They’d fallen asleep together on the couch. Jimin straightened slowly, his back protesting at the movement.

Next to him, Hoseok stirred. He blinked awake, stretching with a cute little groan. He smacked his lips as he looked through narrow slits, still half asleep. His gaze settled on Jimin’s face, and a brilliant but sleepy smile spread on his face, his tail thumping gently against the couch's surface.

“Morning Jimine.”

Jimin smiled, “morning, hyung.”

Unable to help himself, he gently combed his fingers through Hoseok’s hair. The hybrid nuzzled against his hand, “your scent is better now.”

“I feel better,” Jimin hummed. Hoseok opened his arms, and Jimin easily went, slotting himself against Hoseok's lithe body. He shivered as Hoseok’s nose ran along the line of his neck.

“I’m glad,” Hoseok’s lips tickled his skin as he spoke. It had surprised Jimin yesterday night when they’d found him on the couch, how they’d both started scenting him, nuzzling almost desperately against him. Once they’d calmed down, and the three of them lay side by side on the couch, Hoseok explained that he and Jungkook saw Jimin as part of their pack now. Scenting him helped them calm down and reassure themselves that he was safe. If Jimin were a hybrid, he knew being covered in their scent would make him feel so safe, and a part of him was sad that he couldn’t smell them on his skin.

“Still worried and confused, but better.”

Another pair of arms wrapped around Jimin’s waist, and Jungkook slotted himself against his back. His nose brushed against the knob of Jimin’s spine.

“Better is good,” he said, a jawn cutting him off.

“Mhm,” Jimin hummed. For a long time, nobody said anything. They just lay there, content in each other's arms, as they slowly woke up. Footsteps in the hallway sounded, and Hoseok jumped into a sitting position, placing himself between Jimin and Jungkook and the doorway.

“Hyung,” Jimin murmured, touched by Hoseok’s protective display. The dog hybrid didn’t react, ears twitching on his head.

“Ah,” he mumbled, whole body relaxing. He turned towards them and smiled, “it’s just Taetae.”

Then he sniffed the air, and his brows furrowed.

“What is it, hyung?” Jungkook asked, but Hoseok waved his question away, his face morphing into a soft smile. Seconds later, Taehyung appeared in the doorway. Contrary to the three of them with sleep-ruffled hair and loose sleepwear, Taehyung was already dressed in a pair of loose beige pants and a white t-shirt, long red hair in his typical braid.

“There you are!” He grinned as he saw them, gaze immediately finding Jimin, “I’ve been looking for you all over.”

He hurried over, sitting on the floor before them, back against the couch, “I wanted to show you something.”

He pulled out a holoboard, which was already open on the R’kive homepage.

“Look,” Taehyung sounded delighted as he handed Jimin the holoboard.

Jimin took the slim device, “Tae, what-”

His eyes widened. The whole ‘Trending News’ section was filled with articles with Minho’s face plastered across them. Headlines talking about everything from scandals, coverups, criminal activities, and consort cruelty. He clicked on the top one, his fingers shaking. The words blurred together as he read, the details of Minho time and time again using illicit means to force people who had caught his interest into slavery and then taking them as his consorts, making him feel sick.

“He’s going down, Jiminie,” Taehyng said, and Jimin forced his eyes away from the screen. Taehyung’s gaze was dark and full of anger, “him and a whole lot of other terrible people.”

Jungkook and Hoseok nuzzled up against him, and Jimin drew a deep breath.

“And what will happen to his slaves? To Taemin?”

Taehyung hummed as he turned and put a soft, warm hand on Jimin’s knee, “Master thinks Minho will contact him soon and offer a deal. Take down the articles from R’kive, and Minho will give him Taemin.”

“Master can do that?” Hoseok asked, leaning in to look at the screen, “how?”

“You really don’t know who our Master is, do you Hoseokie-hyung?” Taehyung grinned, his eyes kind, as he took the holoboard out of Jimin’s limp hands.

Hoseok curled up against Jimin, a pout clear in his voice, “we didn’t really care about that kinda stuff living as poor entertainers, you know.”

“I know, hyung,” Taehyung patted Hoseok’s knee with a chuckle, “I’m just teasing you.”

“I just,” Hoseok wrapped his arms around Jimin, squeezing the silent boy’s waist, “I feel like such a dumb dog sometimes.”

Taehyung wanted to kick himself.

“I didn’t mean it like that, hyung,” Taehyung ran his hand gently over Hoseok’s leg, and the hybrid let out a low pleased rumble, “I’m sorry.”

Hoseok waved his apology away.

“So, who is our Master really?” Jungkook asked, resting his chin on Jimin’s shoulder, those huge round eyes sparkling at Taehyung.

“Why, he’s the owner of R’kive,” Taehyung watched with a huge grin as their eyes went wide and their jaws dropped, “his company is behind basically every digital system and platform we use. Like the whole integrated network we can access through our cuffs and holoboards - Masters company developed and owns that.”

Complete silence met him, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok staring at him with open mouths.

“He- he owns Weverse?” Jimin stammered, “but that’s like the most used platform in the country? Our society can’t function without it, and you…you’re telling me that…”

Jimin trailed off, and Taehyung couldn’t keep back a low chuckle, “how else did you think Master could afford to buy all of us at the buy-out price without even breaking a sweat?”

“I- but that’s…”

“Crazy?” Taehyung grinned, and Jimin nodded, stunned. Hoseok and Jungkook glanced at each other, and then Jungkook smiled.

“That means our master is really powerful and can look after us all easily, right?”

“That’s certainly one way to look at it, yes,” Taehyung agreed, endeared at the smiling bunny.

“Well, that’s all I need to know then,” Jungkook said, jumping to his feet, “I don’t care about who he is or why he has money as long as he is kind to us and takes care of us.”

Taehyung smiled. It was a simple way to look at the world, but it made sense. They didn’t have to care. Caring was Namjoon’s job.

“Let’s go get breakfast,” Jungkook whined, pulling a chuckling Jimin to his feet, “I’m hungry.”

Hoseok smiled but didn't follow them, “hyung just needs a quick word with Tae-yah, bunbun, then we’ll join the two of you.”

“Okay,” Jungkook chirped, pulling Jimin out of the room with him, leaving Taehyung and Hoseok alone.

Hoseok gently patted the space next to him, and Taehyung moved onto the couch, folding one leg under himself.

Hoseok watched him quietly for a second, then, “did he hurt you?”

“No, hyung, he didn’t,” Taehyung felt his whole chest swell with warmth, so grateful for the care Hoseok showed him so easily. He opened his arms, and Hoseok cuddled up beside him, “thank you for asking, though.”

Hoseok hummed, “I can smell him really strongly on you.”

Taehyung let out a low cough, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He’d spend the night in Namjoon’s bed, none of them getting much sleep. For the first time in weeks, though, the persistent itch under his skin had finally gone away - Namjoon managed to scratch it real good. He coughed again, shooing the thoughts away before Hoseok could catch anything in his scent.

“I- erhm, I spent the night with our master.”

Hoseok wrapped his arms around him, nose tickling Taehyung’s neck.

“I can tell,” Hoseok mumbled, lips brushing against Taehyung’s skin, “I’m really glad he didn’t hurt you.”

A pain Taehyung knew all too well colored Hoseok’s voice. He was starting to realize just how badly Hoseok had been hurt. Taehyung himself had been hurt, of course, but where his wounds had turned into scars, it seemed like Hoseok’s were still aching and bleeding.

“Me too,” Taehyung hummed, and for a little while, they just sat there until slowly Hoseok pulled back.

“Let’s go join the others before Jungkook eats all the food,” he grinned at Taehyung, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Taehyung let Hoseok pull him to his feet, then gently made him face him.

“Hyung, are you okay?”

Looking puzzled, Hoseok tilted his head to the side, “yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Whatever it was, he clearly didn’t want to talk about it, or maybe Taehyung had imagined it, so he let it go.

“Just wanted to check. Now let’s go!”

“Okay,” Hoseok grinned, letting Taehyung pull him towards the dining room. His smile fell as he watched Taehyung’s back. It scared him that Namjoon had used Taehyung. Even if Taehyung said Namjoon hadn’t hurt him, it was only a matter of time before he would. Hoseok knew nobles; they always hurt those under them. Hoseok would have to figure out how to make Namjoon use him instead. He wasn’t like Taehyung; he had no other value to Namjoon. If Hoseok couldn’t get Namjoon to use him, he’d be thrown away and separated from his little pack. And maybe, maybe if he learned how to be really good, Namjoon wouldn’t touch Jimin or Jungkook, perhaps he wouldn’t even touch Taehyung, and Hoseok would do anything if it meant he could shield his pack.

Chapter Text

Namjoon paused at the entrance to the dining room. Voices spilled out from the room, the gentle murmur of friendly conversation and shared laughs making Namjoon smile. He’d never realized how much he hated the silence around him until his consorts had come along and filled his house with sounds.

He entered the room, and the conversation paused. Namjoon looked forward to the day his presence wouldn’t cause silence.

“Master,” Taehyung grinned at him, already dressed and gorgeous like always. He sat at the dining table with Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, who still sat in their nightwear and had sleep-ruffled hair. Breakfast had been brought to the table, and they looked to have just sat down to eat.

“Morning,” Namjoon mumbled, feeling his cheeks heat the longer he looked at Taehyung and his sparkling green eyes. He averted his gaze with a low cough, pretending not to hear Taehyung’s low chuckle. He noticed Hoseok glancing between them as he sat between Jimin and Jungkook. Considering his sense of smell, Hoseok probably knew they’d spend the night together. Namjoon figured it might cause some sort of reaction from Hoseok, but he didn’t know for sure. He should probably devote some time to the material Moonbyul had given him and maybe arrange a call with her to be better prepared if Hoseok approached him about this.

A slave immediately brought him a steaming cup of coffee, which he took with gratitude. As he took his first sip, Taehyung leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand, elbow on the table, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Sleep well?” he asked, and Namjoon promptly choked. He coughed and sputtered as Taehyng threw back his head with a laugh, the other three glancing between them.

“Are you trying to kill me, you fiend!” Namjoon coughed, which only made Taehyung wink at him.

“I didn't hear you complain last night.”

Namjoon froze, then disappeared behind his coffee mug, muttering unintelligently about his consorts not showing him any respect as Taehyung giggled. His bangle buzzed on his arm, and Choi Minho’s name appeared on a small screen. Namjoon pushed the ‘Reject’ button with a smirk.

“M- master.” Jimin stammered, and Namjoon focused on him. Jimin stared at him wide-eyed, “wasn’t that-”

“It was,” Namjoon confirmed with a nod, reaching for a croissant.

“Then why didn’t you answer him,” Jimin’s voice took on a note of panic, maybe a hint of an accusation hiding in there. Namjoon didn’t blame him.

“Because the more desperate I make him, the easier it will be to get him to agree to my demands.”

Jimin’s eyes widened with understanding, but he still seemed worried, “what if he does something to Taemin? He must know you’re doing this because of Taemin and me.”

“Hey,” Namjoon put his hand atop Jimin’s, gently running his thumb along his skin, “I know you’re worried about your friend, but try to trust me, okay?”

Jimin studied his face before eventually nodding with a small whisper. “Okay.”

Taehyung threw an arm around Jimin’s shoulders and launched into a lively conversation with Jungkook. Soon, the four of them laughed and talked like before Namjoon had disturbed them, and he silently enjoyed their conversation along with his breakfast.

His bangle buzzed again, and immediately it went silent.

Namjoon would have preferred to let Minho stew for a couple of more hours, but the intense look in Jimin’s eyes made him give in. Miming for them to be quiet, he accepted the call.

“Lord Choi,” Namjoon said, leaning back in his chair with a friendly smile, “what can I do for you so early in the morning.”

It wasn’t early anymore as it had long since passed 10 am, and the tick of Minho’s jaw made Namjoon grin.

“Lord Kim,” Minho sounded strained, even as he sat calmly in his office chair, dressed impeccably in a designer suit and with his hair styled, “I assume you’ve seen the articles by now?”

“Articles?” Namjoon hummed, feigning innocence and looking puzzled, “I must admit I haven’t. To which articles are you referring?”

Minho’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching atop his desk, “you must have seen them unless you haven’t visited the front page of R’kive yet?”

“Oh, I apologize; I’ve yet to read today's news as I’ve been enjoying a late morning with my consorts,” Namjoon said, and behind his screen, Taehyung and Jungkook sniggered. Jimin watched him with laser-like focus, gnawing on his lip. “I’ll go look it up immediately.”

Namjoon could almost hear Minho’s annoyance through the screen as he made a show out of looking up the articles and reacting with surprise and worry in equal measure. “I see why you’re all out of sorts, Lord Choi; those are some very troublesome accusations.”

“Quit the act,” Minho snapped, and Namjoon raised a brow.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know it was you,” Minho shouted, slamming his hand against the table, “you made it perfectly clear yesterday that you would rise to my provocation, and you’ve done a marvelous job of it.”

“Why thank you, I think so too,” Namjoon grinned, and Minho snarled at him.

“Yes, you’ve proved your point, and clearly, you’ve won this fight, so let's stop it now, shall we?”

“And pray tell me, why would I agree to that?” Namjoon lowered his voice, letting the smile fall off his face, and Minho paused. “You purposefully tormented my consort with the misfortune of his friend, and when I didn't agree to your one-sided proposal, you threatened me and challenged me outright. Why should I show you any grace?”

Minho glared at him through the screen, but Namjoon calmly met his gaze. Eventually, Minho broke eye contact first.

“I’ll give you the damn slave, and I’ll stop pursuing yours,” Minho spat, anger clear on his face. Namjoon fought not to smile. They made it so easy, getting under their skin and angering them.

“In exchange for?” Namjoon asked, noticing how Jimin held onto Taehyung with white-skinned knuckles, sitting at the edge of his seat.

“Removing the articles from your website and not involving yourself in this any further.”

Namjoon hummed, pausing as if to think. “And what guarantee do I have that you won’t pursue my Jimin or revenge after this?”

“By the gods, you are annoying,” Minho sighed, “we’ll sign a contract if that’ll make you happy?”

“It will,” Namjoon grinned, “should I have a lawyer draw one up or?”

“Just write one now yourself, and I’ll sign it; no need to spend more time or energy on this than needed.”

“Very well,” Namjoon opened his files, selecting the document with the contract he had already prewritten yesterday along with his team of lawyers. “Read through this, see if it’s agreeable.”

Minho scoffed, “insufferable bastard, this was your plan all along, wasn’t it.”

“It was indeed,” Namjoon grinned as Minho hurried through the contract, “and I must say you played your part to the T.”

“You’re an arrogant prick, Lord Kim,” Minho said as he signed the contract with his digital code, “that’ll gain you more than a few enemies.”

“Right you are,” Namjoon chuckled, “I have my fair share of those, but I seem to manage just fine.”

Minho scowled, but Namjoon paid him no mind. The poor fool had already lost the second he signed that contract.

“I’ll send one of my slaves over to collect Taemin,” Namjoon filed the signed contract with his legal documents, giving his lawyers access to it immediately, “and remember, if he is hurt in any way, the contract states that I’m under no obligation to remove the articles.”

“Yes, I know, I’m not so foolish as to damage another’s property, now begone from my sight.” And with a dismissing wave of his hand, he hung up.

As the screen faded, Namjoon let loose the laugh he’d controlled since the start of the call. “Oh, Minho, you poor fool.”

“He acted exactly as we knew he would,” Taehyung grinned, hugging Jimin close, “your friend will be free soon, Jiminie.”

Jimin had tears rimming his eyes as he smiled, a soft little hum of agreement escaping him.

“But if you take down the articles,” Jungkook said, his face closed off and hard, “won’t he get away with it and just continue to act like that.” His eyes were hard as he stared Namjoon down, “master?”

“He would, if not for the fact that new articles will be published tomorrow,” Namjoon said with a shrug, grinning when Jungkook blinked in confusion.

“But, Master, didn’t you sign a contract not to interfere further?” Jimin asked, still holding on tight to Taehyung.

“I did, but I already gave all the information we gathered and sorted to the four top online news sites and tasked a runner with a physical copy that is on its way to the National Police General at this very moment.”

“But won’t you just have to remove the articles again?” Jungkook tilted his head to the side, one ear standing straight, the other framing his face.

“If Minho had cared to think for a moment, I would have had to, but he only asked me to remove the articles that have already been published, and that is what the contract says as well.” Namjoon took a sip of his coffee, “I’m under no obligation to remove any articles written or published after the contract was signed.”

Taehyung sniggered while the other three gaped at him.

“Of course, to be on the safe side, I’ll suppress those published later until Taemin is with us safe and sound. After that point, I’ll ensure every article and information uncovered is trending.”

“You’re quite sexy when you turn all evil mastermind, master,” Taehyung winked, and Namjoon flushed.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” Namjoon said with a low cough, “I don’t plan on making a hobby out of taking down corrupt nobles.”

“Aww, why not,” Taehyung whined, pursing his lips in an exaggerated pout that had Namjoon warm all over.

“Why? Because it would leave me with no customers. Can’t take away my livelihood, now can I?”

—-

Jimin walked in circles around the couch. When Namjoon had told him that the driver he’d sent to pick Taemin up had left Minho’s estate, Jimin’s leg had started bouncing. Soon after, he’d started rocking back and forth in his seat until he eventually had to get up and move. The nervous energy in his body bubbled under his skin. He stopped briefly for every circle he completed to look at the door. It stayed frustratingly still, not opening, no matter how hard he stared at it. With a small ‘tsk’, he’d start another circle, gnawing on a nail as he paced. Jungkook, Hoseok, and Taehyung were there with him, watching him on his never-ending walk. Namjoon had left a while ago; Jimin didn’t know where he went and didn’t really care.

He needed to see Taemin and assure himself that he was okay.

That Minho hadn’t hurt him further in petty retaliation.

He needed to look into his eyes and see if the Taemin he knew could still be found there.

He really hoped so. He’d missed him terribly when they lost contact, but he’d just assumed that Taemin had gotten a new, more exciting life and that he'd reach out once he remembered that he missed Jimin too. He had never thought the reason why Taemin hadn’t contacted him for so long was because his own father had sold the man into slavery.

He didn’t know for sure yet if his father had really done what Minho had accused him of, but in his heart of hearts, he believed it. He hadn’t wanted to, but somehow, he did.

“Jimin-ah.”

Jimin acknowledged Hoseok with a hum but didn’t stop his wandering or look at him.

“You’ll tire yourself out before Taemin gets here if you keep going like this.”

Jimin sighed, “I know, hyung, but I can’t sit still right now.”

He completed another circle, ignoring their eyes on him. Halfway through yet another circle, the sound of footsteps in the hallway made Jimin freeze. It could just be household slaves, of course, but Jimin stared as if transfixed, his heart leaping into his throat when he saw shadows on the door. Seconds later, it slit open, Namjoon appearing with Taemin at his side.

Jimin gasped, his brain taking in Taemin’s sunken cheeks, the haunted look in his eyes, and the slight tremble of his lips before his body reacted, sending him flying across the room.

“Taemin!”

His friend's head snapped towards him as he shouted his name seconds before Jimin barreled into his side. Jimin threw his arms around Taemin, holding him close, nuzzling against him. He felt too thin in his arms, but he was here. A shaking hand settled on Jimin’s lower back, a stifled sob hidden in the crook of Jimin’s neck.

Jimin found Namjoon’s gaze. His master stood silently beside them, watching them with a barely-there smile.

“Thank you,” Jimin whispered, holding Taemin closer, “thank you so much.”

Namjoon waved his thanks away, “why don’t you sit down, hm?”

He gestured to the couch, and the other three immediately stood, making room for Jimin to gently guide Taemin, sitting him down next to him on the couch. His friend held him tight, fingers digging into his sweater, as Jimin’s neck was soaked.

“Do you want us to leave, hyung?” Jungkook’s ears framed his face, big round eyes watching them closely.

“I-” Jimin hesitated, his eyes flicking to Namjoon without him meaning to.

Namjoon smiled, pointing over his shoulder towards the door, “I’ll go get some work done. If you need me, I’ll be in my office, or you can just call me.”

He turned around before Jimin had a chance to thank him.

Jimin turned to Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook, “stay, please, but maybe-”

He glanced at the small reading nook behind him, and Taehyung immediately understood.

He pulled the other two along with him, starting a meaningless conversation about the weather just to get the conversation flowing. They settled in the reading nook, not paying them any attention, as they talked amongst themselves. Jimin didn't want to be alone with this, but he didn’t want them to be a part of it, either. He was so grateful they’d understood. Jimin focused on his trembling best friend, their voices making a pleasant background noise.

“Taeminie,” Jimin nuzzled against the crown of Taemin’s head, humming softly when Taemin whined. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to; just please, if you’re hurt, squeeze my hand.”

Taemin just shook his head, grasping even tighter onto Jimin’s sweater.

“Okay,” Jimin breathed in relief. “Okay, that’s good.”

He rocked them gently from side to side, humming under his breath as Taemin sobbed into his neck. Eventually, Taemin stilled, just the occasional sniffle tickling Jimin’s skin. Jimin combed his fingers through Taemin’s long hair. He’d never seen him with hair this long before.

Taemin drew a deep breath, then leaned back, tears still staining his cheeks, “I’ve missed you.”

His voice was wrecked, low, and gravely from disuse and crying.

“I’ve missed you too,” Jimin smiled, gently thumbing Taemin’s tears away, “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

Taemin just shook his head, “don’t.” He leaned into Jimin’s touch, gaze running over his face like he was trying to memorize his features, “how am I here?”

“Master forced Lord Choi to hand you over,” Jimin let his hand fall from Taemin’s cheek, holding both of his hands between his own, frowning at how thin they seemed.

“Why?” Taemin looked puzzled.

“I-” Jimin paused, not having acknowledged the exact reason himself until he had to explain it to Taemin, “because seeing you like that hurt me and because I asked him to.”

Taemin’s eyes widened, then narrowed, and his brows furrowed, “in exchange for?”

Jimin smiled, “he hasn’t asked for anything in return.”

“Yet,” Taemin’s face hardened, a haunted look making his eyes appear empty, “they always want something from you.” He hunched in on himself, and his shoulders started shaking.

“Hey,” Jimin wrapped his arms around Taemin and drew him into a hug, “let’s not talk about that. Nothing good will come from it.”

Taemin rested his forehead on Jimin’s clavicle, releasing a shaky breath as he whispered, “I just don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I know,” Jimin hugged Taemin tighter. He hadn’t even thought about the possibility of Namjoon wanting something in return for doing this, but he should have. He hadn’t known Namjoon very long, so even if he didn’t think Namjoon would do something like that, he very well might. Even if-

‘I will never force you.’

Namjoon’s honest and sincere expression as he’d kneeled in front of him as he sat scared and miserable, chained to his auction chair, played in his mind. It had been less than a week, but Namjoon had kept his word so far. He hadn’t forced any of them; on the contrary, he’d given them much freedom. He’d listened to them, even cared for them in a way. Sure, he still owned them, and certain things had been done to them because that was the norm - like his modification and the Embed - but Namjoon hadn’t forced them outside that.

“And I don’t think he will.” Taemin straightened, looking at Jimin with wide, puzzled eyes. “He’s a very strange Master,” Jimin explained with a slight shrug.

Taemin didn’t look convinced, “just promise me you’ll be careful, Jiminie.”

“I’ll try,” Jimin glanced towards the other three. They had the courtesy to pretend they weren’t listening, but their conversation had stopped.

“What’ll happen to me now?” Taemin hugged himself tight, withdrawing a bit from Jimin. Another shiver ran through him, and it hit Jimin that he may be cold.

“I don’t know,” Jimin admitted honestly as he reached for the fluffy blanket that hung over the armrest behind him. “Here,” he handed Taemin the blanket, and he took it gratefully and wrapped it around his shoulders, all but hiding inside a blanket cocoon.

“I don’t-” Taemin’s voice broke, a sob escaping him as he hid deeper inside his cocoon, “I don’t want to be sold again.”

Jimin’s heart broke for his friend. He put his hand on Taemin’s back, gently running it up and down along his spine. He didn’t want Taemin to go through that again, either. He wanted to keep him here, keep him safe and within reach. He didn’t want to lose him again.

“I can ask Master to let you stay?”

Taemin went still. “Do-” he hesitated, “do you think he’d want me?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin admitted, angry with himself that he hadn’t thought to ask Namjoon what he planned to do with Taemin once he got him away from Minho, “but I’m sure he’ll listen if we tell him you don’t want to be sold again.”

Taemin scoffed, “nobles don’t care about the opinions of their properties. We’re just objects to them.”

A small whine caught Jimin’s attention, and he saw Hoseok curled up against Jungkook’s side, the bunny pulling him close against his side.

“Mas- Master isn’t like that,” Jimin mumbled, shifting his attention to Taemin. Jungkook and Taehyung would take care of Hoseok.

“They’re all like that,” Taemin whispered, hanging his head, “but yeah, ask him; I want to know what’s going to happen to me.”

Jimin pulled up a small holo screen from his bangle. His fingers hovered over the keys, unsure what to ask or say. He didn’t know how to ensure that Taemin wouldn’t be hurt again. In the end, he wrote Namjoon a short message, asking him what would happen to Taemin now, begging him not to sell his friend off again.

A small dot appeared next to the message, showing Namjoon had read it. Jimin gnawed at his nail, growing increasingly nervous as time passed without a reply from Namjoon. Had he asked too much? Should he have written it differently? Maybe he should have offered to do something in return? What if-

The doors slid open, and Jimin jumped in surprise. Namjoon stepped into the room, his eyes settling briefly on all of them, stopping on Taemin. His friend still had his eyes down, but Jimin could feel his body going rigid as Namjoon approached, settling cross-legged on the floor in front of them.

“So, Jimin tells me you don’t want to be sold again?”

Taemin glanced at Jimin, but he kept his eyes down, not looking at Namjoon in any way.

“I- I would prefer not to, my lord.”

Jimin’s brows furrowed. Taemin’s voice sounded meek and lifeless again, much like it had sounded in Minho’s office.

Namjoon hummed, “I understand. Thank you for telling me honestly.”

Taemin’s eyes widened, his head almost lifting before he caught himself.

“I never planned to sell you, so you don’t have to worry about that,” Namjoon said, smiling at Jimin, “my angel would never forgive me if I did.”

Jimin flushed, embarrassed at having Taemin hear the nickname Namjoon liked to call him. His friend glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes.

“Isn’t that right, Jiminie?”

Jimin swallowed, “It would hurt me very much if you did that, Master, yes.”

“See,” Namjoon grinned, running a hand through his hair, “my angel would be hurt, and we can’t have that.” Namjoon leaned forward, peering up at Taemin, “won’t you look at me while we figure out what to do from here together?”

“I-” Taemin pulled the blanket closer around him, “I’m allowed?”

Jimin’s heart squeezed painfully, and he couldn’t keep himself from glancing towards Hoseok. The dog hybrid wasn’t looking their way; he still sat leaning against Jungkook, but he looked small, sad almost.

“Yes, of course, you are,” Namjoon’s smile had turned strained. It would seem that, just like Jimin, he remembered hearing those words before.

Taemin hesitated but slowly raised his head, meeting Namjoon’s gaze.

“Thank you,” Namjoon gave a quick nod, “it’s nice to meet you under better circumstances. I’m sorry we had to leave you behind yesterday, but I’m glad it all worked out, and you’re here with us now.”

Taemin looked from Jimin to Namjoon and back again, clearly confused about what was happening.

“Jimin asked me if you could stay here, and if that is what you want, then yes, you can stay here,” Namjoon observed Taemin’s expressions as he spoke, “but I have a different idea that I think you might like better.”

“What idea, my lord?” Taemin asked. Jimin could see fear in his eyes, but he kept his gaze on Namjoon, and Jimin saw some of the old Taemin in him.

“Well, a new start in an apartment downtown, with an entry-level desk job in Crystal Snow and a monthly stipend that would cover rent, food, therapy when you’re ready, and dance classes,” Namjoon held up a finger for each item he listed. With each finger, Taemin and Jimin’s eyes grew larger and larger, “of course, I’ll buy you free, and you’ll be welcome to visit Jimin here anytime you want, just like he’ll be free to visit you.”

“I- I-” Taemin stammered, rocking on the spot. He abruptly stopped, catching Namjoon’s gaze, “in return for what?”

“In return for nothing,” Namjoon said, “taking down Minho and absorbing his estate is more than enough in return.”

“You- you don’t want anything from me? From him?” Taemin inclined his head towards Jimin, who watched Namjoon intently, waiting for his answer.

“No,” Namjoon shook his head and smiled softly at Jimin, “I just don’t want to see my Angel hurt like that again.”

—

Dinner was a lively affair.

All of his consorts had decided to join, and besides Yoongi and Seokjin, they talked animatedly together, Taemin being the focus point of their conversation.

After Namjoon had offered Taemin the opportunity for a fresh start - a new life - he’d accepted with tears in his eyes before breaking down into sobs in Jimin’s arms. Namjoon had left the 5 of them alone after that, knowing that his presence would put a damper on their spirits. Instead, he’d retreated to his office, combing through the different materials on hybrid care Dr. Moonbyul had recommended. It had proved highly informative. He’d never known how common it was for hybrids of the pack animal species to be intimate with each other as a pack. Neither had he been aware that they viewed it as pack bonding and platonic intimacy - some formed pairs of a romantic nature, yet still engaged in pack intimacy, though never without their chosen partner. Namjoon found it fascinating. He couldn’t help but wonder if Hoseok and Jungkook functioned as a pack and if they had the same view on pack bonding. He wondered how Hoseok’s experiences at the hand of the troupe leader would play into that. The books said that hybrids tended to view intimacy with pack mates as entirely separate from intimacy with humans. Something about the experience was fundamentally different to them because of their instincts and the way they experienced the act because of it.

Truthfully, Namjoon wasn’t sure he understood precisely, but he hoped that he would understand with a bit of time and a better understanding of Hoseok and Jungkook as people.

Seokjin had joined Namjoon for lunch and even attempted to hold a conversation with him. It had been a pleasant surprise but also left Namjoon highly suspicious of the plans Seokjin might be brewing. He didn’t think the consort would choose to spend time with him on his own accord unless he had a plan of some sort in motion. He was proven right when Seokjin asked if he could access the late Lord Bang’s complete Will just as Namjoon made to leave the table.

Weighing the pros and cons, Namjoon relented. Even if Seokjin weren’t ready nor willing to forgo his bias against Namjoon, he couldn’t find anything to blame him for in Lord Bang’s will. Besides, he might as well start to give him access to some of the more tame documents since he’d promised him full access once he returned to work in a couple of days.

The afternoon he’d spent outside, enjoying a sunny day. He was delighted when Jungkook and Hoseok joined him. Jungkook convinced Hoseok to run through one of their easy routines together, and Namjoon watched with awe as they moved with each other with equal strength and grace. The comfort they felt with each other, the closeness, had Namjoon revisiting his earlier thoughts about pack intimacy, but he quickly shelved it. It wasn’t a thought for now.

Taehyung had messaged him later, asking him to join them for dinner, which was how he found himself at the dinner table with all of them.

Yoongi and Seokjin sent pointed glances toward Taemin, but they kept their thoughts to themselves. Seokjin seemed more approachable than usual; maybe giving him the document had placated him for now. Yoongi openly glared at him, and Namjoon tried not to let it get to him, but it was hard. He’d brought this on himself, though, so he’d just have to make the best of it. He hoped that Yoongi would warm to him and Hoseok with some time. Yoongi also sent a fair share of glares in his direction.

A soft ping alerted him to a new message from his contractor. He smiled in excitement.

“Pup.”

Hoseok immediately turned towards him, whatever sentence he’d been in the middle of forgotten.

“Yes, master,” his ears twitched atop his head as he tilted it slightly, listening carefully.

“I have some news for you - well, for Jungkook and Jimin also.”

All three of them looked at him, and Namjoon really hoped this would make them happy.

“I just got a message from my contractors, and they’ve finished turning my empty hall into a dance studio for the three of you to use.”

All three of their faces lit up with excitement; even Taemin seemed to brighten.

“Really?” Hoseok’s tail whacked so fast behind him that it turned blurry. “Can we really use it to dance?”

“Yes,” Namjoon grinned, “I had it repurposed for your sake after all.”

They shared excited glances, and Namjoon felt proud of making them so happy.

“If you want to, we can go there together tomorrow. It’s a bit removed from the main house, so it can be hard to find.”

“Yes!” Jungkook’s ears stood straight, his round eyes wide and sparkling, “please show us!”

“Alright, bun,” Namjoon grinned, excited for the morning to come.

—

“This is really for us?” Hoseok breathed in wonder as he took in the vast hall. It felt like a soccer field could easily fit into the spacious hall, the roof so far away with windows scattered about that it felt like the sky was straight above them. Mirrors lined one of the longer walls, the other floor-to-ceiling windows out to a beautifully maintained garden. On both sides of the entrance, long couches stood, offering a comfortable place to sit for anyone not there to dance. On the other end were shelves with workout equipment, mats, and different props and a door to a changing room with showers and massage stations.

Hoseok couldn’t believe his own eyes.

Jungkook pulled a screen from his bangle and accessed the wireless sound system with a few clicks. The gentle melody of ‘River Flows in You’ filled the hall, the sound so clear and crisp that it felt like the piano was in the room with them.

“Yes,” Namjoon said, sitting on one of the couches, “this is your space to use how you see fit.”

Hoseok stared at him in disbelief. He couldn’t fathom how much this would have cost.

“What- what can we do for you in return?” He asked, sensing how Jimin and Taemin froze behind him. Jungkook just leaned against his side, offering him silent strength and comfort.

“You don’t have to do anything for me in return, pup,” Namjoon’s smile dimmed, “as I’ve said before, it’s my duty to take care of you and ensure you’re happy. You don’t have to repay me for doing what I’m supposed to as an owner of such amazing consorts.”

“But this- Master, this is too much,” Hoseok stammered, glancing around the state-of-the-art dance studio.

“On the contrary,” Namjoon said, “I believe this is the bare minimum.”

“The garden outside is beautiful!” Taehyung entered from the outside, a purple flower behind his ear, “wow,” he stopped and stared at the space with wide eyes, “Master, you really outdid yourself.” He plopped onto the couch next to Namjoon, leaning heavily against his side. Hoseok’s eyes narrowed as Namjoon wrapped his arm around Taehyung’s waist and squeezed him gently.

They smelled of each other, letting Hoseok know they’d spend the night together again. It left a buzzing ball of unease in Hoseok’s chest. He had to figure out how to please Namjoon before he hurt Taehyung and the rest of his pack or decided to throw Hoseok out.

“Hyung,” Jimin’s arms wrapping around him startled him. “Let’s dance together, hyung, all four of us!”

Hoseok turned around and found Jimin watching him with a crescent-eyed grin. With one last glance towards Namjoon and Taehyung, he gave in with a smile, jumping into play-dancing with the others as Jungkook put on something with a fast beat.

—-

Namjoon glanced at the time. It read 6:30 pm - almost time for dinner. Hoseok had been in the dance studio since 10 am. He hadn’t joined the rest of them for lunch. As they ate, Jungkook told him Hoseok had promised to eat lunch later but just wanted to dance a little longer.

Namjoon sighed, and Taehyung glanced up at him, putting down the game controller. After lunch, he’d shown Taehyung and Jungkook the small gaming area he’d prepared for them earlier, and his two youngest had been ecstatic, dragging him into the room with them and patiently teaching him to play with them. However, he wasn’t very good and quickly threw in the towel, preferring to sit and watch them play.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asked. He’d learned to read Namjoon frightenedly quickly. It didn’t bother him as much as it should.

“Hoseok,” Namjoon sighed, and at the computer across from them, Jungkook’s head snapped up, staring at Namjoon with wide eyes, “he hasn’t eaten since this morning.”

“Go,” Taehyung gently pushed against his shoulder, “he’s broken a rule. Go talk to him.”

Namjoon glanced at Jungkook. The bunny gnawed on his lower lip, fear evident in his eyes.

“I won’t hurt him, bun, I promise. I’m just going to talk to him.”

Hesitantly, Jungkook nodded, “okay.”

Namjoon gave Taehyung’s shoulder a quick squeeze as he stood and left the room. He walked slowly towards the dance studio, mentally preparing for his talk with Hoseok, trying to remember what he’d learned about hybrid care. He could hear the beat of a hip-hop track even before he opened the door. He pushed it open, then stilled as he watched Hoseok dance. The hybrid hadn’t noticed him yet, wholly focused on the movements of his own body. Namjoon had never seen anyone move like that before. There was a calm to Hoseok as he moved across the floor that Namjoon hadn’t seen before either. Like the weights that pulled him down had been lifted.

He wanted to keep watching him but didn’t want to do so without Hoseok knowing. He closed the door hard behind him, the loud sound instantly notifying Hoseok of his presence.

The hybrid jumped with a small yelp, whirling around to face him.

The pure look of fear on his face surprised Namjoon, but it was quickly replaced with a shaky smile.

“Master, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.” Hoseok’s eyes darted to the closed door behind Namjoon before they settled somewhere around his chest. “Can I do something for you?”

He looked small, frightened. He must already know why Namjoon was here.

“Come pup, sit down with me,” Namjoon said as gently as he could. Hoseok followed him obediently, sitting down on the couch with him but keeping a lot of distance between them and still not meeting Namjon’s gaze.

“You broke one of the rules, pup,” Namjoon said, and Hoseok flinched, his shoulders curling in, “you know you’re supposed to take care of yourself and not skip eating and drinking.”

“I- I know master, I’m sorry, I just forgot the time.”

“It’s been more than six hours since Jungkook left for lunch, pup. Have you had something to drink since then?”

Hoseok curled into himself even further. “No, Master.”

“Pup,” Namjoon scolded lightly, and Hoseok whined, “I know how much you must have missed dancing, but please don’t forget to look after yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Master, I won’t do it again.”

Namjoon smiled, “Good. Then, unless you have something else you want to tell me, why don’t you go shower? Then we can leave to have dinner with the others.”

Hoseok’s head snapped up, his eyes wide as he stammered, “bu- but, you haven’t punished me?”

“I won’t punish you for breaking my rules, pup,” Namjoon said, watching as a myriad of emotions he couldn’t read played in Hoseok’s eyes, “if you keep neglecting your care, I might impose time restrictions on your access to the studio, but I won’t ‘punish’ you.”

Hoseok stared at him as if he’d grown an extra head.

Namjoon sighed, “I know you expect me to act like the troupe leader did, but I’m not him.”

Hoseok flinched, averting his eyes as he curled into himself again, “I understand. Sorry for disappointing you, Master.”

“You didn't.” Namjoon hurried to reassure, worried about Hoseok’s reaction. He didn’t understand why he seemed almost disappointed or even more frightened than before because Namjoon wasn’t punishing him.

“I’ll go shower then.” Hoseok stood, and with a quick bow, he scurried off, leaving a confused Namjoon behind.

—

Hoseok stripped out of his clothes in a hurry, not wanting to make his Master wait for too long.

He couldn’t understand the way their Master acted. Sure, he’d let Hoseok go without punishment before, but this time, Hoseok broke a clearly stated rule, and he still wouldn’t punish him! He deserved punishment for that, yet his Master refused to. He should have whipped him like the troupe leader did or demanded to use him.

Hoseok turned on the shower, turning the heat up and wincing as the scalding water hit his skin. It wasn’t enough as a punishment. He deserved worse. A dumb dog like him needed his master to put him in his place. Why wouldn’t their Master do that? He didn’t understand what that meant for him. If Namjoon wouldn’t punish him when he broke clear rules, then when would he? Would he just someday decide to punish Hoseok for everything at once or throw him away?

Hoseok was sure when he noticed that he’d stayed too long that his Master would finally punish him and put things into order, so he stayed at the studio, even as fear and worry quickened his heart.

But he hadn’t, and Hoseok just couldn’t understand.

He just wished he knew the rules.

With the troupe leader, he knew.

Do this, and you’ll be punished.

Be good like this, and you can eat.

Here, he didn’t have to be good to eat, and breaking rules didn’t mean a punishment.

A noble would never let a mutt like him live like that. He knew punishments would come, and he would have to be good. He just didn’t know how or when, and it frightened him.

But Taehyung had found a way to be good for their Master.

He should ask Taehyung.

He would know for sure.

—-

Yoongi lay in his bed, scrolling through R’kive.

The trending pages were full of stories about Lord Choi and his misconduct. Disgusting.

A man like him should never have been allowed to call himself noble. Uncultured swine from the bottom of the barrel being granted the distinguished title of noble just because they made some money. What else could you expect from people like that but depravity?

His own master - Yoongi scoffed - was no better. He took over a district from an ailing man, using tricks and dishonest means to grow a digital empire that allowed him to exploit people further, and unfairly acquired the title of noble.

Not that all purebred nobles deserved their titles, either.

He scowled at the holoboard.

An article proclaiming the naming of the heir to the Min family shone mockingly up at him. His half-brother stood flanked by all those old fools on the boards of directors. He looked as arrogant and haughty as he had the day he’d had Yoongi thrown out of the estate he had grown up in and then put him up for sale.

Yoongi's rage towards his father for what he’d done had pushed him into giving his everything to be named heir - to show his father what he’d given up, that he’d chosen wrong! All that anger and all that effort meant nothing when the old fart died before he could name Yoongi heir before he could have the satisfaction of taking over the family. When his half-brother had thrown him out, all that anger had transferred onto him, and the only thing that kept Yoongi going was the thought of taking back the company he’d built and building his company to be bigger and better than the Min house.

He closed the screen with a huff, turned onto his back, and stared into the ceiling.

Curse his father for throwing away his hybrid child.

Curse his half-brother for being a cowardly little prick!

He saw the notification for dinner pop up on his bangle and rolled his eyes.

And curse Kim Namjoon for ever thinking he could make Yoongi into his consort!!

—-

“Come sit here with me, hyung,” Taehyung patted the bed next to him, and Hoseok shuffled into his room, slowly sitting down. He looked nervous.

When Namjoon and Hoseok returned from the dance studio earlier, Hoseok had seemed a bit off. Jungkook noticed it too, plastering himself to Hoseok’s side, taking care of him throughout dinner, repeatedly urging him to eat.

Namjoon kept glancing toward Hoseok as well, his brows furrowed as if in confusion. Taehyung wasn’t sure what had happened between the two of them, but Namjoon had promised he wouldn’t punish Hoseok, and Taehyung believed him. So whatever it was, most likely, it had to do with Hoseok and his past.

So when Hoseok asked if he could talk to him in Taehyung’s room after dinner, Taehyung happily agreed. Maybe he could help with whatever this was.

“What did you want to talk about, hyung?” Taehyung asked when Hoseok had stayed silent for a long time.

“You spent the night with Master again, didn’t you?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected Hoseok to want to talk about this, of all things. Had Namjoon said something to prompt this?

“I did, yes.” Taehyung nodded.

“And, he- he still didn’t hurt you?” Hoseok asked, looking worried. Taehyung opened his arms to him, and Hoseok leaned against him, wrapping his arms around his middle.

“He didn’t, no,” Taehyung said, squeezing Hoseok gently.

“I’m glad.” Hoseok hesitated, then asked, “can you teach me?”

“Teach you what, hyung?”

“How to be good for Master?” Hoseok whispered, his grip flexing around Taehyung, “I- I want to be good for him too, but when I try, Master turns me away.”

Oh dear... By being good for him, Hoseok could only mean sex, right? Taehyung hesitated, very unsure how to handle this. What the hell had Namjoon said to cause this?

“Master has already told you how to be good for him, hyung. He said so on our first day here. Do you remember?”

Hoseok pulled back a wrinkle between his brows as he thought, “he said he wanted us to be people he could talk to, that would be there for him.”

Taehyung nodded with a smile. “Exactly. He said that meant the most to him. That’s how we can be good for him.”

Hoseok didn’t look convinced, “but he lets you be good for him. He wants you.”

“Hyung, that’s-” Taehyung shook his head and cupped Hoseok’s face, “this isn’t me being good for master.”

Hoseok tilted his head to the side, looking so adorable that Taehyung had to fight not to coo at him. “It isn’t?”

“No, hyung, this is me wanting him to make me feel good. If anything, he is being good for me.”

Hoseok’s brows furrowed. “I don’t understand. You let him use you, right?”

“No, hyung,” Taehyung shook his head again, “I ask him to have sex with me because I want him. I don’t let him use me because he’s my Master; I genuinely want him.”

Hoseok gnawed at his lower lip, looking even more confused.

“Look,” Taehyug leaned back, chuckling a little when Hoseok chased his touch, “I know hybrids and humans view sex differently, but I know closeness and trust are important for hybrids as well; that it’s something you share with members of your pack, right?”

Hoseok nodded.

“Well, you don’t see Master as part of your pack, do you?”

Hoseok stiffed, fear entering his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me. You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything.”

Hoseok hesitated, his body still stiff, “I- I don’t, no. Master is master. He- I’m not sure he can be pack.”

“Exactly,” Taehyung said, “and since he’s not pack to you, do you even want him to touch you?”

Hoseok’s brows furrowed, “I- I don’t- want to be close to him like I do with my pack. But that is completely different; Master is human and my master, so even if I don’t want him close like my pack, I want to be good for him.”

Taehyung hummed, then ruffled Hoseok’s hair, “that’s probably why. Master wouldn’t want to have sex with you unless you wanted to be close to him like you do your pack.”

Hoseok narrowed his eyes at him, disbelief coloring his features, “humans don’t care about that. Especially not those who own slaves. They just want you to be good and let them use you.”

A shadow fell across Hoseok’s face as he spoke, a haunted look that Taehyung knew all too well, darkening his eyes.

“I know,” Taehyung said quietly, and Hoseok met his eyes, a silent understanding passing between them, “but Master isn’t like that. If he were, he would have used you when you offered.”

Hoseok grew silent, pondering what Taehyung had said. Taehyung hated that Hoseok had been hurt to this extent, that not being violated by his own master seemed strange to him. In a way, maybe it was in the world they lived in.

“You keep saying master is different,” Hoseok said slowly, “and maybe he is, but I know how powerful humans behave. I need to be good for him, or he’ll get tired of me and throw me away.”

Taehyung’s chest hurt listening to Hoseok. He couldn’t refute him. Most powerful humans would behave just like that. Taehyung, too, would have been demoted or sold off if he’d refused to see clients or hadn’t performed well enough. He’d been lucky to have rules that protected him and enough charm to talk himself out of difficult situations. Hoseok probably hadn’t had the same luxury. Not if he’d been trying to keep Jungkook safe.

Hoseok grabbed Taehyung’s hands, his eyes wide and pleading, “please tell me how I can be good for him. I just want to understand how to please him. How to keep my pack safe.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung pulled him into a tight hug, “the only thing I can tell you is that you have to talk to Master.”

Hoseok’s fingers latched onto his sweater, “won’t he be mad?” Hoseok's voice was barely a whisper, “I don’t want to be bad and make our master mad.”

Taehyung rested his chin on Hoseok’s head, humming quietly, “no, he won’t be mad. He’ll tell you how you can be good, just like he told you that letting him pet your hair was you being good.”

“I really thought he would get mad at me that night. I didn’t do what he wanted.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung hummed, “but he didn’t. He'll tell you if he wants you to be good by letting him touch you. I promise.”

He’d cut Namjoon’s dick off if he purposefully hurt Hoseok in that way, though. However, he didn’t think that he would. He’d barely agreed to touch Taehyung after he practically sat naked in his lap.

Hoseok leaned back, “you think he’ll let me be good?”

“Yeah, hyung,” Taehyung smiled, slowly pulling them to their feet, “I’m sure if you talk to him, he’ll tell you how to be good. Maybe not how you want him to, but you’ll have to let him tell you what he thinks it means to be good, okay?”

Hoseok nodded with a hopeful smile, “yeah, I can do that. Thank you, Tae-yah.”

—

Jin stared at Lord Bang's will. He’d spend the whole day reading through it, taking notes as he went. He’d skipped dinner, not interested in wasting time playing civil with the rest of them. Some of the things he’d found had left him…puzzled.

His stomach rumbled, and with a sigh, he got up and wrapped a soft pink woolen sweater around his shoulders.

He knew Namjoon kept snacks in the tea kitchen. He’d find some cookies or something before reading through the rest of the documents.

He walked through the hall in deep thought, ignoring everything around him.

He’d found several areas in the Will that didn’t match what Sejin had done. Seokjin had been by Sejin’s side, helping him as he took on the responsibility of leading his father's district. Sejin told him what Lord Bang had written in his will, and Seokjin helped him with the implementation. He especially remembered Sejin dismissing some of Lord Bang's trusted advisors - Seokjin had questioned him on this decision, but he’d just said that his father had asked him in his Will to see to their retirement. Seokjin had found something very different when he read the will. Lord Bang had explicitly requested that his retainers be given the temporary right to rule until they could prepare Sejin to rule and, if they deemed him incapable, raise another to take his place.

It made Seokjin’s head spin.

He didn’t understand why Sejin had told him something different. At first, he’d thought maybe Namjoon had manipulated the text, but it bore the emblem of the Vault system - uneditable, unchangeable texts. Nobody would have been able to change a single word since Lord Bang uploaded the document to the system.

The smell of food tickled his nose.

“Don’t tell me, you smelled food and followed your nose?” Yoongi’s slow drawl made Seokjin pause. He looked up and found Yoongi standing in the mostly unused kitchen Namjoon had beyond the dining room. A steaming pan of fried rice stood on the stove before him, and Seokjin’s stomach growled.

“Well, not on purpose,” Seokjin said, and Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“Come, sit, I’ve made enough for two.”

“I-” Seokjin hesitated, but maybe some company would be good; clear his mind, “okay.”

—-

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Kim Namjoon?!” Minho growled at him through the screen, and Namjoon shrugged.

“I have no idea what you mean?”

He’d barely made it to his office after dinner before a call from Minho had appeared on his screen. Namjoon’s smile had been so wide with glee that it almost hurt. He knew this call would be a lot of fun, and so far, Minho wasn’t disappointing him.

“Don’t you dare play dumb with me right now, you fucking bastard!” Minho threw a glass decanter into the wall, which shattered into pieces at the impact, “you signed a contract with me!” Minho pointed at him through the screen, rage making him look wild, “I’ll sue you for all you’re worth if you don’t comply.”

“Oh, but I am complying,” Namjoon said with faked affront, “I take my contracts very seriously.”

“Then why the fuck are the articles about me trending on your damn site?! And why have I been contacted by the National Police Service to appear for questioning?”

“Well,” Namjoon grinned, “the contract said to remove the articles published on the site before the contract was signed. I did that.”

“Now, wait a damn minute-”

“It also said not to involve myself any further after signing. I haven’t - I handed over all the evidence I had on you anonymously to the police and the media before I signed the contract.”

Minho gaped at him, “you- you dishonest, thieving, arrogant-”

“Yes, yes,” Namjoon waved his hand and turned down the volume, “I know you want to paint me as the villain here, but truly, all you had to do was read the contract and think a little about your wording before signing.”

“I’ll ruin you! I’ll fucking tear apart everyth-”

Namjoon cut off the call, his screen fading into black.

He allowed himself a short laugh. Too easy. Arrogant peacocking pieces of shit like Minho made it all too easy for him to ruin them. None of this would have happened if Minho hadn’t coveted Jimin. Of course, Namjoon would eventually have sent someone to infiltrate Minho’s system if he hadn’t invited him himself, but if not for what Minho had done to Jimin and Taemin, he probably wouldn’t have bothered tearing him down.

His door slammed open, and Namjoon jumped with an undignified yelp.

Taehyung stood at his door, his eyes blazing with an anger that instinctively made Namjoon want to cover, “what the fuck did you say to Hoseok?!”

Chapter Text

“I didn’t say anything!” Namjoon said, shrinking behind his desk as Taehyung stepped closer. “I- I just told him to remember to take care of himself!”

Taehyung stopped in front of his desk, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “And?” He demanded.

“And that I wouldn’t punish him for breaking rules!” Namjoon added. Why was he suddenly the one being interrogated? Wasn’t he the master in this relationship?!

“That can’t have been all.” Taehyung leaned forward, putting a hand on the desk. “He was begging me to teach him how to get you to ‘use’ him, Master.”

Namjoon flinched. “I didn’t say anything to him about sex, Taehyung!”

“Are you sure?” Taehyung pressed, and Namjoon threw out his arms.

“Yes! I’m sure.”

Taehyung deflated with a sigh. “Then I don’t understand why he appeared so desperate. Master, he was scared. He’s convinced you’re going to throw him away or hurt his pack unless you let him be good by using him for sex.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened. “He told you that?”

“Yes.” Taehyung sat on the desk next to Namjoon facing him. “I just talked with him before I came here. He really needs you to help him, Master.”

Namjoon took Taehyung’s hand, holding his gaze. “I know Tae-yah. And I’m trying. I established those ten rules for his sake, and I’ve been trying to consult with a therapist and read up on hybrid care. I don’t want to hurt him, believe me.”

Taehyung smiled. “I know you don’t, but he is hurting right now.”

“I know,” Namjoon said, hating that he didn’t know how to help Hoseok. Remembering Hoseok's strange behavior during their talk, he added, “Hoseok acted strange when I refused to punish him. Like that made him even more scared.”

Taehyung hummed, his brows furrowing as he thought. “Well,” he said, “I suppose in a way that makes sense. If he still believes you will punish him for breaking a rule at some point, it would be frightening for him not to know when you decide to punish him and how severely.”

That…made a lot of sense.

“So the only way to assure him would be to find some way of lightly punishing him?” Namjoon didn’t like the idea of punishing Hoseok in any way, but maybe he could make him do the dishes as punishment or something if it would help him feel more at ease.

“Maybe.” Taehyung shrugged. “Or maybe he won’t accept a light punishment as fitting for what he thinks he deserves, and then it won’t help at all.”

Namjoon groaned. “I really hate nobles.”

Taehyung snorted. “Yeah, that makes two of us. Although.” He winked at Namjoon. “You’re okay.”

“Why thank you,” Namjoon said with a grin. Then he sombered. “I’m doing my best to learn how to help him, but I just don’t know a whole lot about hybrids and from what I understand hybrid behavior differs according to their species.”

Taehyung squeezed Namjoon’s hand. “I know you’re trying. And I’m sorry I came at you like that. I just feel responsible for him - for all of them - since you put me in charge of their education.”

Namjoon smiled, running his fingers along Taehyung’s scar in a gentle caress. “You don’t have to. Their care is my responsibility. Not yours.”

“Too late,” Taehyung said with a wide boxy grin, nuzzling his cheek against Namjoon’s hand, “I’ve already adopted them as my own. They’re mine.”

Namjoon snorted. “Even Seokjin and Yoongi?”

Taehyung’s nose wrinkled. “They’ll have to accept my love one day. I’m very stubborn and extremely charming.”

Namjoon threw his head back, a burst of laughter escaping him. “That you are,” he said with a grin.

Namjoon hadn’t wanted to bother Jackson or drag Bambam into this, but he couldn’t bear to keep hurting Hoseok or Taehyung by proxy.

“I have a friend who has a dog hybrid as a consort,” Namjoon said, and Taehyung’s eyes went wide. “He went through something similar to Hoseok. Maybe, if they both agree, he could try to talk to Hoseok and help us understand how we can help him?”

Taehyung studied his face for a while. “Is there a reason you haven’t asked him for help yet?”

Namjoon nodded. “Yeah,” he murmured, “Bambam struggled with his mental health for a long time. Jackson - my friend, he’s the one you meet at the auction house - said he’s only recently started to smile and laugh. I didn’t want to have him come face to face with another dog hybrid that had been hurt in the same way he had.”

Taehyung cupped Namjoon’s cheek. “I’ve never met someone with as much power as you who cared for others as you do,” Taehyung said. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Namjoon’s forehead. He stayed there, his lips tickling Namjoon’s skin as he spoke. “I’m truly so grateful you decided to add me to your collection of finery.”

Something huge and heavy lodged itself in Namjoon’s throat and he cleared it awkwardly as Taehyung leaned back with a soft smile on his face.

“It’s nothing special. I’m the one who’s grateful you’ve accepted me as your king.”

Taehyung raised a brow, a mischievous smile making his eyes sparkle. “Oh? And who says I’ve accepted you as my king?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, unable to keep a smile off his face. “Oh silly me, I should never have assumed.”

“Nope.” Taehyung grinned. “Assuming is bad.” He sombered quickly. “Will you ask your friend? I understand why you didn’t, but if it could help Hoseok, and if he’s okay with taking the risk, I think it’s worth it.”

Unable to help himself, Namjoon leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Taehyung’s lips. “Yeah,” he whispered, “I’ll ask him.”

A delicious red spread across Taehyung’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Namjoon sniggered. “You don’t have to thank me.” He pulled up a holo screen from his bangle, swiftly calling Jackson. His friend picked up on the second ring.

“Joon, wassup?” Jackson grinned at him, from the comfort of his couch, slick suit exchanged for home-wear, and hair undone. His consort Mark rested against his side, engulfed in a PS Prime Portable.

“Wow, you really picked up my call on the second ring - don’t you have a life?”

Jackson cackled. “That’s insulting coming from you, Mr. Workaholic. Though I heard you’ve been taking the week off. You and your new consorts have made quite a stir you know.”

Jackson wiggled his eyebrows, and Namjoon rolled his eyes with a groan. “I’ve been trying not to look at the gossip pages.”

Taehyung shifted, and without thinking Namjoon made room for him, so he could sit down comfortably on his lap.

Jackson grinned. “Why hello there, beautiful.”

Taehyung waved, sending Jackson a boxy grin. “A pleasure, Lord Wang.”

“Please, lord Wang was my father.” Jackson huffed, accepting a drink from a slave with a low thank you. “When we're alone please just use my name.”

Taehyung giggled. “As you wish Lord Jackson.”

Jackson narrowed his eyes. “That wasn’t what I meant, but better than nothing I suppose. So,” he shifted his gaze to Namjoon, “why did you call me this late at night? Consort troubles again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon murmured, and Jackson’s brows furrowed.

“Hoseok again?”

Namjoon nodded. “I don’t have much experience in actually caring for people, you know that, even less with hybrids.”

Taehyung leaned back against him, releasing a little hum.

“That’s not true Joon. You’ve always been good with people.” Jackson said, taking a sip of his drink. “But how can I help you.”

“Actually.” Namjoon hesitated. “I was wondering if maybe Bambam could help.”

Jackson paused, lowering his drink. “You want him to talk to him?”

Namjoon nodded. “If he agrees, yes. Also, I would like his help to understand Hoseok’s behavior. He’s a dog hybrid as well, and I really need help understanding.”

“I’ll help.” Bambam came into view behind Jackson, his eyes determined. “Master told me about Hoseok, and if you think I can help, I want to.”

“I appreciate that, Bambam,” Namjoon said, and he truly meant it, “but take some time to think about it. I don’t want this to hurt your healing.”

“It won’t,” Bambam said, shaking his head, “it might trigger some bad memories, but helping another hybrid who's been through something similar to me will help me as well.” He wrapped his arms around Jackson’s shoulders, nuzzling his cheek against Jackson’s, and whined. “Please Master. I want to help.”

“Ugh!” Jackson groaned, “I can’t say no to you when you whine like that.”

Mark snorted. “Simp.”

“Shut up!” Jackson snapped. “I’ll check our schedule, but I think we’ll be able to come by in a couple of days.”

“Thank you, truly. Both of you.”

Jackson waved his thanks away. “No need for that. Now if there’s nothing else, I’ll go enjoy my evening with my consorts.”

Namjoon grinned. “No, that was all for now.”

“Kay, bye.” Jackson grinned, and the call disconnected.

“He’s a strange one,” Taehyung said, pressing a kiss to Namjoon’s cheek.

“Yeah, he really is.” Namjoon agreed in a soft murmur, as he gently cupped Taehyung’s cheek, angling him so he could press a kiss to his soft lips.

—

Jungkook pressed a fleeting kiss to the knob of Hoseok’s spine, his gentle scent of morning glory safe and familiar. He’d gone to Hoseok’s room like always, and his hyung had opened his body to him, the two of them finding safety and comfort in each other. Jungkook squeezed Hoseok’s body, pulling him closer, the bare skin of his back against Jungkook’s chest a warm comfort.

“How did your talk with Taehyung go?” He asked, running his nose along the line of Hoseok’s neck. Hoseok’s body tightened and then immediately relaxed.

“I don’t know,” Hoseok whispered, his scent fluctuating. Jungkook’s nose twitched. His hyung smelled of worry and confusion. “The things he says don't make sense to me.”

Jungkook hummed, pushing his forehead against Hoseok’s shoulder. “Maybe because Master doesn’t make sense.”

Hoseok snorted. “Yeah, maybe.”

They’d talked a lot about what Hoseok had hidden from Jungkook during their time in the troupe. Jungkook had known that the leader abused Hoseok - hell he himself had been abused - but with each new detail Hoseok shared with shame burning in his cheeks, Jungkook had become more and more horrified. He was glad he knew everything now. He could hold Hoseok in his arms and reassure him that he didn’t have to be ashamed; that Jungkook understood; that Jungkook thought he was the strongest person he’d ever known. He wished he could tell him that he’d only fallen deeper in love; that he wanted them to be mates with all of his heart. But he knew now that he couldn’t. Hoseok had been hurt so much more than Jungkook thought, and his hyung needed Jungkook to be there for him as a safe haven. He couldn’t risk taking that from him with a confession of his feelings. He would hold them dear and safe within his heart, and maybe one day, he could tell Hoseok. And if he never could, that would be okay as well.

“You know you don’t have to protect me anymore, hyung, right?” Jungkook whispered against Hoseok’s skin, desperate for Hoseok to actually hear him. “You don’t have to bear the whole burden, I can help.”

Hoseok turned around in his arms and cupped his cheek, a soft smile on his face. “You’re my Jungkook, my pack, I’ll always want to protect you.”

He nuzzled their noses together, and a soft thrill escaped Jungkook.

“But hyung,” Jungkook said, nuzzling against Hoseok’s hand, “I want to protect you too. It hurts me when you are hurt.”

Hoseok ran his eyes over his features, a wide smile slowly spreading on his lips. “I’m so proud of you, Koo. I promise you, hyung’ll try his best not to be hurt, but I have to protect our pack.”

“Can’t you let me help?” Jungkook whispered, pleading and hoping against hope that Hoseok would listen.

Hoseok pressed a kiss to Jungkook’s forehead. “If it comes to it, I promise, I’ll let you help.”

Jungkook wished he could tell Hoseok that he knew he was lying.

—

“This is my place?” Taemin’s voice shook as he took in the brand-new apartment, turning slowly on the spot. Jimin smiled as he watched his friend. The apartment was amazing. In the front row to the city center, an undisturbed view across the park towards Crystal Moon. It had two bedrooms, a state-of-the-art bathroom and kitchen, and a spacious living room.

“Well, I would hope so, considering I just had the place configured to your biometric code,” Namjoon said, turning away from the windows. “Would be kinda awkward if someone else lived here already.”

He grinned mischievously, and Jimin chuckled. The more time he spent with his master, the less he resembled the image of a powerful slave-owning noble.

“Now,” Namjoon clapped his hands together, “why don’t you get settled? You can stay and help him of course, Angel,” Namjoon smiled at him and Jimin flushed, “I’ll leave a chauffeur here for you, so whenever you are ready, he can take you home.”

“Thank you, master,” Jimin said, with a grateful bow of his head.

“And Taemin, I’ve transferred funds to your profile, you can use them with Jimin today to order yourself clothes, decorations, or anything else you would like.”

Taemin’s eyes widened. He gasped, then fell into a low bow. “Thank you so much, Lord Kim. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

Namjoon hummed. “Live a good life, and be a good friend to Jimin.”

“I will!” Taemin said.

“Good.” Namjoon ruffled Jimin’s hair as he walked by, then with a wave of his hand, he was gone, leaving the two of them alone in the apartment.

Taemin rounded on Jimin, bewilderment in his eyes. “Is he truly a noble?”

Jimin nodded, grinning at his friend's bewilderment. “He is.”

Taemin stared at the closed door. “I’ve never met a noble who acted like him, Jiminie. It’s unnerving.”

Jimin chuckled and threw his arm around Taemin’s shoulders. Truth be told he shared Taemin’s bewilderment, but he preferred not to think about Namjoon right now. “Let’s not worry about why my master behaves as he does, but instead use our time spending the money he gave you.”

A wide grin spread on Taemin’s face, and he dragged Jimin to the couch. “I haven’t shopped in years!”

“That simply won’t do.” Jimin grinned, as they threw themselves onto the couch, happy to see his friend smiling like he used to do. “Let’s fill that huge closet I saw in your new bedroom earlier, with brand-new outfits!”

—

“Not you too.”

Namjoon startled, whatever thoughts had been occupying his mind dispersing. Yoongi stood in Namjoon’s unused kitchen - or maybe not so unused anymore - glaring at him with that ever-present scowl on his face. A pot of something that looked like stew stood in front of him, and two bowls stood ready to be filled. One for Yoongi and one for Seokjin who sat at the counter, watching Namjoon curiously.

“Not me too? What do you mean?” Namjoon asked, genuinely confused. Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“I swear, one would think your slaves never made enough food with how all of you manage to find a way to walk in on me whenever I’m cooking.”

Namjoon had known that Yoongi cooked meals for himself in his kitchen whenever he chose not to join the rest of them for meals - which was often, but he didn’t know the consort had been feeding the others as well. Maybe Yoongi’s hard exterior had a few cracks in it.

“I didn’t mean to,” Namjoon said. And he hadn’t. He’d been lost in thoughts that now escaped him. What had he even been thinking so hard about?

“Yeah, well, I’ve heard that before,” Yoongi said, cutting a glare in Seokjin’s direction.

“Hey, I truly didn’t plan to!” Seokjin defended himself, puffing up his cheeks.

“Whatever, you still ate my food didn’t you.” Yoongi narrowed his eyes at Seokjin who grumbled but didn’t protest. “I’m not feeding you though!” He pointed a spoon at Namjoon. “You can go call some of those fancy slaves of yours if you’re hungry.”

Namjoon chuckled. He hadn’t expected Yoongi to offer him food, and as long as he was reluctantly getting along with the others he wouldn’t complain. “Fair enough. I’ll take my leave then.”

“Wait.”

Namjoon paused in surprise at Seokjin’s call.

“Could you send me another file?”

“Have you gone through Lord Bang’s will already?” Namjoon asked, slightly impressed. It was a huge document, with heavy law-filled texts.

Seokjin nodded. “I finished it this morning.”

“Oh?” Namjoon raised a brow. “And what do you think?”

Seokjin bristled, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. “I don’t think anything yet.”

Which was clearly a lie. The only reason he would get defensive like that would be if he’d found something in the will that made him question Sejin’s actions.

“I can give you some reports my researchers have compiled on how Sejin has been running the district over the last couple of years.”

Seokjin huffed and rolled his eyes. “I know how he's been running the district, I’ve been right beside him, helping him.”

“Well then, it should prove easy reading,” Namjoon said with a grin, pulling up his holo screen from his bangle, and navigating through his profile until he found the documents he was looking for. He transferred them to Seokjin’s profile. “Here you go.”

Seokjin glanced over the files. “Thank you. ” He gave a shallow bow, then turned his attention to Yoongi and the bowl of stew he’d sat down in front of him. Recognizing it for the dismissal it was, Namjoon left the two of them alone. It should bother him how his slaves basically threw him out of his kitchen and barely showed him the tiniest of respect, but he saw the changes in their behavior however small and it left him strangely happy.

—

“This is so good, Yoongi-yah!” Seokjin groaned, stuffing another spoonful into his mouth, wiggling happily on his stool. Namjoon’s slaves made amazing food, however reluctant he was to admit it, but Yoongi could go head to head with them with no trouble. Seokjin used to cook as a hobby. He hadn’t since Lord Bang died. Sejin didn’t think it a constructive hobby for a scribe. Maybe he should start cooking again - eating with Yoongi and watching him cook had made Seokjin realize that he missed it.

“I don’t remember agreeing to speak casually, Seokjin,” Yoongi grumbled, filling two smaller bowls with rice and handing Seokjin one.

“Oh come on, we’re the only sane ones in this circus of a harem, and we’ve eaten together several times now. You’re my partner-in-hating-Namjoon - my clever dongsaeng.”

A flush spread on Yoongi’s cheeks even as he huffed. “So the enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

“Exactly,” Seokjin said, pointing his spoon at Yoongi. “Except in this case, it’s the enemy of my enemy is my dongsaeng.” He grinned and Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“Fine! Do you want something to drink, hyung?”

“Aw, Yoongi-yah, taking such good care of your hyung already,” Seokjin cooed, and Yoongi narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t push it, or hyung can be changed to old man very quickly.”

Seokjin gasped with faked affront. “I am the picture of youth!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi muttered, as he opened the fridge, ears and tail twitching, “how does soda sound?”

“Sounds good, thank you Yoongi-yah.”

—

“Did you and Taemin have fun today, Angel?”

Jimin startled, his noodles slipping from his chopsticks and disappearing back into his bowl of ramen soup.

“I did,” Jimin said, putting his chopstick down. “I’m really thankful for everything you did for him, Master.”

Namjoon waved his thanks away. He’d been happy to see Jimin come home just before dinner with a wide and bright smile on his face. Hopefully, it would make up for the news Namjoon had for him.

“You’ll have to bring us along next time you go, Jiminie,” Taehyung said, dumping some slices of meat into Hoseok’s bowl when he wasn’t looking.

“I, yeah, sure, Taemin would like that.” Jimin glanced at Namjoon. “If Master is okay with it, of course.”

“I’ll tell my driver to take any one of you whenever you want,” Namjoon said and the four of them beamed.

After dinner, Namjoon pulled Jimin aside. He followed him silently into his office without question. Namjoon gestured for him to sit down, and he did, eyeing him with wide eyes.

“Is this about my father?” He asked, hands shaking in his lap.

Namjoon nodded.

“Was-” Jimin’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Was he really behind it?”

As he looked at Jimin sitting in his office chair doing his best to look strong, Namjoon wished with all his might he could tell him no. That he could tell him that Minho had told a horrible lie and that his father had played no part in either Jimin's or Taemin’s fate.

However, Jimin deserved to know the truth.

“He was,” Namjoon said quietly, and Jimin’s face fell. Tears welled in his eyes, and his shoulders shook, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his hands into fists. Namjoon’s whole being screamed at him to go to the boy and hug him tight, but he stayed where he was.

“Be- because of his gambling debt?” Jimin asked, his voice wet and shaking.

Again Namjoon nodded, pulling up the report his investigators had compiled on a holoboard and handing it to Jimin. Jimin took it with shaking hands, but he barely glanced at it before putting it down on Namjoon’s desk.

“And the other kids?” Jimin asked.

“Safe, for now,” Namjoon said. It worried Namjoon that so many young adults were under the guardianship of such a man, but at the moment there wasn’t much he could do. Technically Jimin’s father hadn’t done anything illegal. He was legally within his rights to put anyone he had guardianship over up for sale. It was common practice for parents to grant elite schools guardianship over their kids, but it was odd for a dance academy to hold guardianship over this many kids. Namjoon had asked his people to investigate further because he suspected there was more to it, but that Jimin didn’t need to know.

“Okay.” Jimin sniffled, then wiped furiously at his eyes. “But he could do the same to them, couldn’t he?”

“He could.” Namjoon agreed reluctantly, “However he is debt-free at the moment, and once I’ve taken over I’ll make sure he’s banned from the casinos Minho owns.”

Jimin looked at him silently for a long moment. “I don’t know what to do.” He whispered.

“That’s okay, Angel, you don’t have to do anything right now,” Namjoon said. He gave in to his instincts to touch Jimin, walking to his side, and putting a hand on his shoulder, hoping it would be a soothing touch for Jimin. “I’ll keep an eye on the situation, and if anything changes, I’ll let you know. Okay?”

Jimin looked up at him, smiling despite the water lining his eyes. “Thank you, Master.”

—

“Master.”

Taehyung’s warm timber tickled Namjoon’s ear. Fighting to throw off the heavy blanket of sleep, Namjoon didn’t manage more than a grunt.

Taehyung chuckled. “Not ready to get up, huh?“ A fleeting touch traveled down his stomach. “Although, one part of you is up and ready.”

Taehyung cupped him through his underwear, and Namjoon groaned. His eyes blinked open to find Taehyung smiling broadly at him, one hand on Namjoon’s chest, chin resting on top of it. His other hand did a lazy stroke along Namjoon’s length.

“Didn’t you get enough last night?” Namjoon rumbled, sifting his hand through Taehyung’s hair, moving it away from his face, and grunted when Taehyung twisted his hand. Taehyung grinned, slowly inching down Namjoon’s body.

“Do I need to educate you on the wonders of hypersexuality again, Master?” Taehyung asked, a purr escaping him as he freed Namjoon from his underwear.

“No,” Namjoon said, voice breaking off on a moan as Taehyung took him in his mouth, “you’ve demonstrated it more than clearly.”

Taehyung hummed around him, and Namjoon cursed, hand going into Taehyung’s hair again - not to move him, but just to ground himself. Taehyung worked enthusiastically building Namjoon’s pleasure frighteningly quickly.

“Tae-yah, shit!” Namjoon grasped onto the sheets with his free hand. “If you want anything else to happen you need to stop.”

Taehyung just looked up at him, eyes lazy and shimmering with pleasure and arousal. That look would be enough to push him over the edge on any day, but Namjoon did his best to hold on to give Taehyung a chance to pull off. Taehyung didn’t. He hollowed his cheeks and the added suction pushed Namjoon right over the edge.

“Tae!” Namjoon moaned, body curling into itself. Taehyung worked him through it, staying on him until Namjoon weakly pulled him off. Namjoon guided Taehyung up his body and into a kiss, groaning at the taste of himself on Taehyung’s lips.

“Not that I didn’t enjoy this,” Namjoon murmured against Taehyung’s lips, “but what’s the special occasion?”

“None,” Taehyung grinned, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of Namjoon’s nose. “Just felt like it.”

“Yeah?” Namjoon raised a brow at him. “Well let me return the favor.”

“No need,” Taehyung said, pausing Namjoon as a blush spread on his cheekbones. “I, erhm.“ He cleared his throat. “I already…” He waved his hand vaguely in the air.

Namjoon’s eyes widened, and his eyes were drawn to Taehyung’s crotch. A wet spot darkened the fabric of his underwear. Taehyung came just from blowing him?! Namjoon cupped Taehyung’s cheek, drawing him into a deep kiss. “Shit, that’s hot, Tae-yah.”

Taehyung grinned, nipping on Namjoon’s lower lip. “Pervert.”

“Says you.” Namjoon snorted.

“Says I indeed,” Taehyung laughed, pushing away from Namjoon and onto his feet. He offered Namjoon a hand. “Come on. If you’re a good boy, I might let you get me off in the shower.”

Namjoon took Taehyung’s hand with a helpless laugh. Taehyung was going to be the death of him.

—

“I’ll be going back to work tomorrow,” Namjoon said, and six pairs of eyes focused on him. He’d requested that they all join him for brunch, and much to his surprise, Seokjin, and Yoongi had joined without a fuss.

“Does that mean you won’t be here doing the day then?” Jungkook asked, tilting his head a bit to the side.

“Yes,” Namjoon said, taking a sip of his coffee, “but I’ll do my best to get home early.”

“And what are we supposed to do during that time?” Yoongi asked, his eyes narrowed, “sit around and look pretty?”

Namjoon snorted, and Yoongi scowled in response. “If that’s what you want to do, sure,” Namjoon said with a shrug. “But you’re free to do whatever you want. There are classes for consorts to attend if you want to, or you can make use of anything here on my land. I know Taehyung has some classes planned for Jimin, Hoseok, and Jungkook to prepare them to attend events with me.”

“He does?” Hoseok asked, his tail swishing behind him as he turned towards Taehyung, “you’re going to be teaching us?”

“Yeah hyung,” Taehyung grinned, and ruffled Hoseok’s hair, “I’m going to make sure you can go to lots of fancy parties with Master.”

“I have a different idea for the two of you,” Namjoon said, inclining his mug towards Seokjin and Yoongi. “Seokjin, you’re joining me of course, so you can look through the files regarding Lord Bang and Sejin, and Yoongi, if you want to, you can join as well. You can help me with some administrative tasks, or you can look into starting another business. I could see in your files that you did a splendid job with the company you ran before you got sold.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes with a derisive chuckle. “You enjoy mocking me, don’t you? Consorts aren’t allowed to run a business much less a company, you second-grade master.”

Hoseok bristled, but Namjoon held out his hand, stopping him with a soft smile.

“That may be true normally, yes,” Namjoon said, keeping eye contact with Yoongi, “however with their masters' approval, consorts can do pretty much anything, and you of course have my approval Yoongi. So, yes, you can run a business if you want to, or even a company.”

Yoongi’s eyes went wide, a myriad of thoughts flashing through them.

“You don’t have to decide now, you’ll always be welcome to join me.” Namjoon shifted his gaze to Seokjin. “We leave at 9 am, so be ready in the foyer at that time tomorrow.”

“Understood,” Seokjin said, and Namjoon could have sworn he spied a barely there smile on his lips.

“And Hoseok,” Namjoon said, smiling when Hoseok immediately gave him his full attention, ears raised, and tail alert. “A friend of mine will be coming to visit you with his consort in a couple of days.”

Hoseok’s brows furrowed and he tilted his head. “Visit me? Why?”

“Well, his consort is a dog hybrid, and he’d like to make friends with other dog hybrids,” Namjoon said.

Hoseok made a face, his ears pulled back. Before Namjoon could comment on his expression, his face smoothed over. “I understand, Master. I’ll be good and make friends with him.” He sent Namjoon a smile, but it looked fake. Namjoon had seen this behavior before.

“Pup,” Namjoon asked carefully, “is this another thing the troupe leader used to ask of you?”

Hoseok’s entire body went rigid. Jungkook made a soft sound and put his hand on Hoseok’s back. At Jungkook’s touch, the tension seeped out of Hoseok’s body, and he smiled at Namjoon. “No, Master.”

“You promised to tell me, pup, remember?” Namjoon pressed.

Hoseok nodded. “I do. It’s not, I promise, Master.”

“Okay,” Namjoon said, drawing out the word. He glanced in Taehyung’s direction, who made an encouraging gesture towards Hoseok. Fine, Namjoon would try to get it out of him. “Then why the strange expression? I thought you would be happy to make a new friend?”

“I-” Hoseok hesitated, glancing between his hands in his lap, Jungkook and Namjoon. Namjoon didn’t like putting him on the spot like this, but if having him meet Bambam could end up hurting him instead of helping him, Namjoon needed to know.

“You can speak your mind, Hoseok, I won’t be mad.”

Hoseok deflated. “Dog hybrids don’t really make friends outside of packs, Master. I don’t want someone new to join my pack, and I don’t want to fight about our position in the pack.”

Namjoon blinked owlishly. What? Dog hybrids didn’t make friends with each other? He seriously needed help with hybrid behavior. “Don’t worry pup, I promise that won’t happen. Bambam truly just wants to talk and become your friend. Maybe Jungkook’s as well.”

Hoseok leaned against Jungkook, wrapping himself almost protectively around him. Namjoon raised a brow, looking at Taehyung in confusion.

Jungkook giggled, murmuring softly to Hoseok. “It’s okay, hyung. I won’t make friends with him unless you tell me it’s okay.”

Yeah, Namjoon really needed help.

—

“Hyung, are you okay?” Jungkook asked carefully, his nose twitching at the sour note in Hoseok’s scent. They’d joined their master for a walk through the vast garden after brunch, and Hoseok had been his typical self. It wasn’t until they decided to go dance after their late lunch together that Hoseok’s scent started souring.

Hoseok sat cross-legged on the floor, stretching his muscles after their practice. He looked up at Jungkook. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Jungkook sat down across from Hoseok with a sigh. “Hyung, you know I can smell that something is wrong. Please, just tell me. I’m worried.”

Hoseok gnawed on his lower lip, averting his gaze. Then, “I’m worried about the dog hybrid who Master said wants to be my friend.”

Jungkook had seen Hoseok have territorial standoffs with dog hybrids before when they lived on the streets. He’d had his fair share of those with other bunnies so he understood. “But hyung, if he’s someone else's consort, why would he want to challenge your place in our pack, don’t you think that maybe he’s just not that in tune with his instincts?”

Hoseok flopped onto his back with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know Koo. Maybe. It’s just my instincts, you know. I don’t like the thought of another dog hybrid coming here.”

“Hyung.” Jungkook shuffled to Hoseok’s side, laying down halfway on top of him. Hoseok made a little ‘uff’ sound at his added weight. “Don’t you think maybe, because you’re used to fighting with other dog hybrids to protect your territory that your instincts might be a bit, I don’t know, aggressive?”

Hoseok’s brows furrowed in thought, and he stayed silent for a while. Jungkook didn’t mind, he just relaxed atop Hoseok, enjoying the sound of his heart beating in his chest.

“You might be right,” Hoseok finally said, slowly and measuredly. “But that still doesn’t mean that I have to like the idea.”

Jungkook giggled. “I know hyung, but at least try to give him a fair chance, especially since it’s something Master wants.”

Hoseok groaned. “You’re right. I’ll try.”

Jungkook smiled. Hoseok didn’t smell sour anymore.

—

Yoongi lay spread-eagle on his bed staring absentmindedly into the ceiling.

The words Namjoon had said at brunch had been on an endless loop inside his head all day. Like poison they spread in his body, giving root to a fluttering of hope in his mind. He didn’t trust Namjoon in any way, shape, or form, but if he went with him and had him put it in writing that he as Yoongi’s master had allowed his consort to run and manage his own business, maybe Yoongi could still keep running his company.

He knew Namjoon had found out about his company the second he’d found his tea brand stocked in Namjoon’s cupboards. So Namjoon had - rather heavy-handedly - hinted that he’d allow Yoongi to keep running his company.

A war was going on inside Yoongi’s mind between the rational part of him that knew he couldn’t trust Namjoon, and the second he linked his company code to his ID Namjoon would swoop in and take it from him, and the hopefully optimistic side of him that said Namjoon would honor his promise and could barely contain the excitement at getting back to doing what he loved.

The chance to take revenge on his half-brother and his gaggle of old useless sycophants was just an added but oh-so-sweet bonus.

He still wasn’t sure which part of him would win in the end.

—

Namjoon stepped into the foyer with a sigh at 9 am sharp. Getting ready to go to work had been a drag. Even with Taehyung there to appease him with soft warm touches and distracting fleeting kisses Namjoon had been moody. Now don’t get him wrong, despite Jackson’s allegations that he was a notorious workaholic it had always been more out of necessity than desire. Sure, maybe he hadn’t really taken time off voluntarily before, but he’d never really had much reason to. His life had revolved around work only interrupted occasionally when Jackson or some other unavoidable social event dragged him out.

Now he had a good reason to take time off. Six good reasons to be precise. Why waste his time at work when he could stay home and enjoy his time with his consorts?

Grumbling to himself he made a vow to delegate as many of his tasks as he could more permanently. He’d earned more time off. He was the lord of the district damnit, and he’d cultivated talented employees, surely they could handle almost everything without him.

He paused, surprised to see not only Seokjin waiting for him in the foyer but Yoongi as well. They’d both dressed in casual suits and dress shoes, with muted black collars and bracelets. They looked handsome like that. The suit especially highlighted Seokjin’s broad shoulders and slender waist. Yoongi just like Jimin had seemed small and delicate to Namjoon, but standing here in a suit, even with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, a stronger physic and broader shoulders than Namjoon had been aware of came on display.

He chose not to comment, just acknowledging them with a short nod and a mumbled ‘Good morning’.

They followed him silently into the car and stayed silent during the drive. Seokjin just looked at the world passing them by outside the toned windows, while Yoongi glared holes into the back of Namjoon’s skull. He tried not to let it bother him and instead busied himself granting them the relevant access they would need, and coordinating workspaces for them with Sejeong.

His chauffeur dropped them off in front of the entrance, and Namjoon allowed himself a smug smile at the flabbergasted look on both of his consorts' faces, as they craned their necks back to take in the huge skyscraper.

“Welcome to Crystal Moon,” Namjoon said with a grin as the automatic doors silently opened before them, showing off the lavish reception area. Seokjin and Yoongi looked around them with wide eyes, their jaws all but dropping. For once, Namjoon appreciated the unnecessarily fancy building and sparkling interior.

He guided them to the elevator nodding at people as he went. He could hear the murmur of excited whispers around them and felt eyes on them. They would be in the gossip pages within the hour. Oh well, at least it wouldn’t be for something scandalous this time.

Three small beeps sounded as they stepped into the elevator and Namjoon pressed the 135th floor. Sejeong looked up as they stepped from the elevator.

“I’ve arranged the empty offices on either side of your office for your esteemed consorts to use,” Sejeong said, sending one of her rare smiles in Namjoon’s direction. “They can start working immediately should they wish.”

“Thank you, Sejeong.” Namjoon said with a smile of his own before he guided Seokjin and Yoongi into his office. As they entered the blinds rose from the windows and light flooded the room. Namjoon’s workstation flickered into life, holoscreens hovering above the desk.

Namjoon pointed to two doors on either side of his office. “Those lead to what will be your office spaces from today. Feel free to put in orders for anything you might need. I’ll come get you around 12 so we can go eat lunch together.”

Seokjin nodded and promptly headed to the door on the right. He closed it firmly behind him, and Namjoon chuckled. He’d already granted Seokjin access to the entire folder with his research into Lord Bang and Sejin, so all he could do now was wait.

Yoongi lingered behind, glancing at the door to the left. Namjoon took his seat in his office chair, waving the holoscreens away. “Do you need something Yoongi?”

Yoongi’s face immediately arranged itself into a scowl. It was kinda cute in a way.

“I want it in writing!” Yoongi demanded, marching up to Namjoon’s desk.

“You want what in writing?” Namjoon asked and leaned back in his chair.

“That you’ll allow me to run a company. I want it in writing, and I want you to add that you won’t take control of it away from me.” Yoongi stared him down, tail all puffed behind him.

Namjoon smiled. He pulled up one of his screens and sent a message to one of his lawyers. They would have a contract ready in minutes. “We can sign a contract. I’ll hand it to you so you can read through it once it’s done.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Why are you just agreeing to this? What games are you playing?”

Namjoon chuckled. “I’m not playing any games with you Yoongi. I have no reason to.”

A small pout formed on Yoongi’s lips as he paused to think. His tail flicked slowly behind him, his ears twitching softly. Namjoon hadn’t allowed himself to look at Yoongi and appreciate how beautiful he was. But he was just that, beautiful. The light that shone in behind Namjoon bathed Yoongi in clear bright light, and it made his clear white skin all but sparkle. It created such a stunning contrast with the black of his hair. He looked so delicate even with the broadness of his shoulders, and the strength the size of his arms spoke of. His catlike eyes, button nose, and plush lips just gave him this doll-like look. Namjoon hoped one day Yoongi would allow him to get close enough to caress his cheek or kiss the tip of his cute nose.

Yoongi let out a sound of frustration. “I don’t understand you,” he said almost accusatorially, “you’ve clawed yourself to the top and become a noble with nothing but your greed and shrewdness, yet you tell me you have no reason to play games.”

“Well, I may have a reason if other nobles lay out the starting field, but not with you.” Namjoon’s bangle pinged. His lawyer had drafted up a contract. “Here.” He transferred the contract to Yoongi’s profile. “Take a look at it, and tell me if you want anything changed or added.”

Yoongi stared at him, deep distrust so clear on his closed-off face.

Namjoon just smiled. “I truly just want you to be happy.”

Yoongi scoffed and walked towards the door to the empty office. He opened the door and then turned around to look at Namjoon. “If you cared about my happiness you never would have made me your consort. You did that purely for yourself.”

He closed the door behind him before Namjoon had a chance to respond.

—

Namjoon stepped into the foyer with Seokjin and Yoongi in tow. They’d worked quietly in the adjacent offices all day, reluctantly joining him for lunch. Yoongi had signed the contract without further comment and sent it to him just after lunch. Seokjin had a pensive expression on his face all the way home, but Namjoon hadn’t commented. Whatever it was Seokjin would tell him eventually.

“Master.” Hoseok ran up to Namjoon, sunshine-smile wide on his face, and his tail wagging behind him. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, pup,” Namjoon grinned, ruffling Hoseok’s soft hair. He could get used to being greeted every day when he returned from work. Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin came up behind Hoseok.

“Have you had fun at work?” Hoseok asked, his head tilting cutely, as Namjoon handed his coat to a household slave.

“I don’t know if fun is the right word,” Namjoon said, walking towards the living room, the rest of them following him wordlessly, “but I had a productive day. What about you pup? Did you have fun with Taehyung?”

He noticed Seokjin and Yoongi breaking away from the group heading towards their rooms, but Hoseok turned that bright smile at him and immediately commandeered his attention.

“Taehyung knows so much!” Hoseok said. “I had no idea going to parties could be so complicated.” He pouted, his mouth forming a downward triangle and Namjoon barely held himself back from cooing. “I think Jungkook and I will have to stay home for a long time before we’re good enough for you, Master.”

“Nah.” Namjoon let himself fall onto the couch, the others joining on either side of him, Taehyung choosing to sit on the sofa table in front of them. “As long as you know enough to have fun, it’s good enough for me.”

Taehyung smiled, pulling his legs up to sit cross-legged on the table. “Give me a week, and they’ll be ready.”

“Perfect,” Namjoon said, smiling gratefully at Taehyung. “Now, who wants to go for a walk with me?”

—

They settled into a routine after that. Namjoon left with Yoongi and Seokjin in the morning, the other four spending time on lessons and dancing. Taehyung had made Namjoon promise to inform them when he would be coming home, which Namjoon had gladly done once he learned that Hoseok had been waiting for him to come home for hours the first day. Usually, they would get home no later than 5 pm, and if the weather permitted he would go for a walk before dinner, Taehyung and his chicks joining him.

On the fourth day back at work, Jackson called him to let him know he and Bambam could come by the next day if Namjoon had time. He didn’t, but he would make time. So they decided that they would come by just after lunch.

So that day, as they went on their daily walk along the outer walls of Namjoon’s estate, Namjoon waited for a good time to tell Hoseok about their visit. Hoseok and Jungkook were running in front of their little group playfully chasing each other, their loud gleeful laughter warming Namjoon’s soul. Jungkook was a strong runner, but Hoseok was fast and agile, so he would catch the bunny easily. Although Namjoon suspected Jungkook wanted to be caught. As they kept playing and Hoseok got tired, Jungkook would evade him more easily until in the end, he could run circles around a panting Hoseok. Slow and steady wins the race, as they say, Namjoon thought with a chuckle, as Jungkook evaded Hoseok with a delighted giggle.

“Makes you happy just watching them, doesn’t it?” Taehyung said, hooking his arm with Namjoon’s. Namjoon hummed in response, another chuckle escaping him as Jungkook wrapped his arms around Hoseok and threw him over his shoulder ignoring the dog hybrids squealing protests. Jungkook came jugging back towards them with a huge gin, his ears flopping softly as he moved, Hoseok bouncing on his shoulder.

“Having fun, bun?” Namjoon asked, biting back a snort as Hoseok wiggled helplessly in Jungkook’s hold.

“Yup.” Jungkook grinned. “Hyung won’t admit that I won, and I’m not letting him down until he does.”

“Is that so,” Namjoon said, grinning as Hoseok whined loudly. With a mischievous grin, Jungkook started spinning on the spot and Hoseok shrieked. He grasped desperately onto Jungkook.

“I give! Jungkook-ah! Please, I give!! You win. Let me down!”

Jungkook halted immediately. He pumped his fist in the air, then carefully let Hoseok down. The poor pup swayed on his legs, his balance thrown from having been spun. He stumbled, falling forward, and before Namjoon could even stop to think he reacted. He surged forward, grasping onto Hoseok’s arm and steading him with a hand on his waist.

“Woah there.” He grinned. Hoseok looked up at him with wide eyes. “Are you okay?”

Hoseok bopped his head up and down. Namjoon gave Hoseok’s wrist a gentle squeeze.

“You’re wearing the bracelet I found for you,” Namjoon murmured, tracing the delicate chains with his pointy finger. He had the matching collar they’d found that day on too.

“Because Master gave it to me,” Hoseok said, watching silently as Namjoon traced the chains. “So I want to wear it for you.”

This sweet wonderful pup. Namjoon wanted to hug him. He knew Hoseok would let him. He would probably even welcome it. Hell, even Dr. Moonbyul had told him that he could use positive touch as a way to help Hoseok feel settled and relearn healthy intimacy. But he couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. Namjoon wasn’t like Hoseok’s troupe leader. He wouldn’t take advantage.

Namjoon let go of Hoseok and took a step back, putting a bit of distance between them.

“You should wear it because you like it, pup.” Namjoon ruffled Hoseok’s hair. Jungkook shuffled up behind Hoseok wrapping his arms around his waist, and resting his chin on his shoulder.

“I do like it, Master. Jungkook likes the one you picked for him as well.” He took Jungkook’s wrist from his waist and held it out to show the band of black gold with golden wines he wore.

“I’m glad,” Namjoon said. And he was. Even if they wore it mostly out of a sense of responsibility it made him happy that they liked what he’d chosen for them. A natural lul in the conversation reminded Namjoon that he needed to talk to Hoseok about Jackson’s and Bambam’s visit tomorrow.

“Hoseok, remember how I told you about my friend coming to visit with his consort?”

Namjoon watched as Hoseok’s smile turned tight and his ears fell. “Yes, Master.”

“My friend, Jackson, told me they have time to come by tomorrow after lunch. So if it’s okay with you, do you want to meet with them tomorrow?”

Hoseok fiddled with Jungkook’s sweater. Jungkook whispered something to him, so softly that Namjoon couldn’t hear. Hoseok rested his head against Jungkook’s for a second, before he straightened.

“It’s okay with me, Master.”

“Okay, pup.” Namjoon smiled. “I’ll let them know.”

He really really hoped this would help Hoseok.