When we got into the car, he turned to me with a knowing smirk.

The moon was rising in the sky, surely we were headed home now? Then why did Namjoon look like the teenager about to go to a party on a school night?

I looked at him, raising my eyebrows.

"Where to now?" I asked him, staring while he motioned for me to get into the back seat.

I complied, crawling into the backseat with the bag of clothes.

He didn't respond, instead handing me a bag with a few boxes in it. It looked like it was from the same shop we, or rather, I, had gotten all the clothes from.

I opened it to find shoeboxes.

"Wear the red ones," Namjoon suggested, and I stared out at him while he pulled out of the lot, once again gunning it down the road.

"For what?" I asked, my stomach beginning to churn. Were we going clubbing?

"For the underground of course. Wear something fit for an American music video. I'll be competing and you're going to be by my side," he said, and I scoffed at him.

Taking a breath to calm my crazed heart, I shuffled through the clothes before grabbing a ripped black corset tank top and a frayed black silk and red lace skirt with a sewed in black studded belt, along with black stockings and skull garters.

Is this American slut enough, I wondered dryly.

I will admit that it looked like a hot outfit, even if it was more on the risqué side.

Now for the hard part-getting dressed.

I huddled behind the drivers seat so that Namjoon couldn't see me-the last thing I wanted was for him to see me struggling to pull on a skirt and falling all over the place. The outfit was hot, but that would not be.

I pulled on the clothes with reasonable difficulty, my head pounding from repeatedly slamming into the door on every swerve that Namjoon made, as if he was unaware of the struggle he was causing me.

Pulling on the red heels like Namjoon had asked, I sat up, running my hands through my hair and seeing us pull into a crowded lot. There was nothing out here except a very decorated building.

Strobe lights and neon banners from the inside of the building cast an inviting, fun glow on the outside, luring people in.

There was a neon blue light hanging from a very lopsided metal bar, reading The Underground.

I locked eyes with Namjoon through the rear view mirror before exiting the car carefully.

I stood up, smoothing out the clothes before holding my arms out for Namjoon to see.

"How do I look?" I asked, waiting nervously for his response.

What if he hated it?

His face pulled into a smirk, his eyes boring into mine in a way that made my knees weak.

"Perfectly sinful," he said, and I smirked back, doing a slow spin for him. The skirt was snug against my butt, and I couldn't help but feel like I was sexy.

"It's perfect. That's the best money I've spent, and it wasn't even mine," he said, and I laughed.

I never imagined being bad would feel this good. I felt alive, I felt desirable, I felt full, I felt on top of the world.

He held an arm out to me, and I gripped it gently, excitement growing in my chest as we walked into the booming, glowing building.

When I stepped through the doorway, it was like entering a whole new world filled with excitement, lights, lust and luxury.

There were masses of bodies pressed against each other as crazy strobe lights lit up their writhing bodies and illuminated their faces.

The beat was pounding, and my heart began to beat with it, feeling my energy levels rise soon I was unconsciously bouncing along with the beat while walking with Namjoon.

He looked down at me, and I could just see his face lit up by the neon lights darting around, a wide smirk covering his face, enjoyment in his eyes.

I had never seen anything like this before, and I could see why some people party all their life. After this glimpse, I wanted to be one of those people.

Namjoon pulled me through a door beside the DJ booth, and then I was pulled into a bigger room, dimly lit by red and blue lights from the ceiling.

There was a smaller crowd here, but the way they were moving was more professional, expert. The people from the other room looked like little kids dancing compared to these people. They definitely knew what they were doing, they looked trained as they moved their bodies, some in ways that I hadn't even know was possible.

Still clutching to Namjoon, I tried to ignore the lewd gazes I was getting as Namjoon walked us through the dancers as if he didn't even notice that he was interrupting their movements.

I wanted to feel intimidated by the glances, but hanging on Namjoon's arms, instead I felt my self-confidence boost with each pair of eyes landing on me.

I let my walk turn into an easier step, letting my hips roll with each click of my heels.

There was a group of boys standing at the head of the room, their eyes trained on us as we made our way through the crowd towards them.

Namjoon said he was performing. What was this then, some sort of battle? And why did he want me to come? Was it just to show off, or did he expect me to dance?

I had never been particularly good at dancing. But I was a new person now, and I would do anything if it meant people would watch.

It felt like something out of a movie as we came up to the huddle of boys. They were wearing baggy pants, backward snapbacks and gold chains. I wanted to speculate on how they seemed to be trying really hard, but then I remembered what I was wearing and I figured I shouldn't be saying anything about it.

There was nothing wrong with taking time and pride in your appearance.

The boys eyes rolled over me dismissively before turning to Namjoon. They probably would have tried intimidating him by shoving him around, but they didn't, probably because he was a good head taller than all of them.

One of the boys turned back to me, racking his eyes over me once more before meeting my eyes.

"Whore," he mumbled, and I grinned.

"Aww, if you wanted to fuck me you should've just asked. Unfortunately I'm not interested, but I can see why you'd want to," I said sweetly, smirking.

I felt Namjoon wrap an arm around my waist and pull me closer to him, and I turned to look up at him grinning.

"Whatever, we gonna start now, Rap Monster, or do you need to warm up first?" One of the boys said, and I noticed that their shirts had a name - tag labeled AnCrew, and I wondered why Namjoon didn't have one.

Maybe he's so well known that he doesn't need one. I grinned at the thought, holding his arm a little tighter.

"Do you want to lose first, or lose second?" Namjoon asked, an easy smirk on his face as he stared at the crew in front of us.

"Ask yourself that," the boy mumbled, clearly annoyed by Namjoon's arrogance.

A man came up to us, handing Namjoon and the other boy a microphone before an alarm rang out and the room was illuminated by a police siren hung from the ceiling.

I looked at Namjoon, wondering if he was the one to have obtained that for this place, and based on his wink, I would guess he had something to do with it.

The room went dark for a moment, before a low glow began to grow, illuminating the room in a soft blue hue.

"Alright alright alright, how is everybody feeling?" A rumbling voice came in, bouncing off the walls.

Humms of appreciation rolled through the crowd.

"Today, we have a very special guest! I think you can guess," the voice said, and I noticed a man on a stage with a microphone speaking.

There were screams from the crowd, and the words were so jumbled I couldn't understand what they were saying.

"That's right, the notorious Rap Monster has graced us with his presence! Now we could just give him the reward and let him leave, but where's the fun in that? Let's get this party started!" The man said, his voice still rumbling like he was announcing a wrestling competition.

A loud beat started playing, making me nod my head instinctively.

Namjoon pulled away from me, bringing the mic up to his face, but he was shoved by a boy who's confidence had raised once the lights had gone down.

Immediately he was rapping stuff about being the best of the best, getting bitches and money, all the usual stuff.

He was alright, but I didn't care for him enough to give him a chance. Instead, I just held myself close to Namjoon, taking advantage of the darkness to stay close to him.

Namjoon let him go for a while, but he must have gotten bored, because he simply began rapping over the other guy, and immediately my knees felt weak hearing him.

His voice was like auditory heaven, and I wasn't sure what I wanted more, to lay my head in his lap and listen to him forever, or fuck him. Both sounded good to me.

His voice easily slid into my ears, coating me with a feeling of infatuated bliss. I felt my chest bursting, an un-avoidable excitement growing with each verse he performed. He was jumping around, playing the crowd into his hand like putty, getting everyone riled up.

I found myself dancing, and the fact that I didn't care how I looked helped free my body, allowing me to carelessly move into complex, crazy movements.

Namjoon caught my eye, and I smirked at him, biting my lip and winking at him.

He had finished his diss for the AnCrew, and now the way he was moving towards me, I felt that his rap would get R rated really soon.

I was right. He started dancing lightly, doing simple hip thrusts and provacative, seductive movements.

I felt that his rap was coming to an end, and then he slipped behind me, grabbed my head and bent me over.

I couldn't hide the light gasp, and I stayed still before I felt Namjoon let go of my hair, allowing me to stand up again.

I hid a nervous laugh behind my hand and simply winked at him, seeing him breathing deeply.

"Why didn't you call yourself Rap Master," I asked, poking his side with a grin.

"Because I'm a beast, a monster," he said, pulling me close and mumbling into my neck. I chuckled lightly, trying to resist snorting from the pinpricks of his breath.

"Alright alright alright, do I even need to ask who won? Let's hear it for Rap Monster!" The announcer yelled, and then we were deafened by the screams of the crowd.

Namjoon walked up to the announcer easily, holding a slender hand out where a lengthy pile of cash was dropped. He grinned and handed me the wad, and I looked for pockets before stuffing it into my bra.

Namjoon grabbed my hand and began walking out of the building, but I felt a hand latch onto my other arm and thus I jerked Namjoon back.

The boy who had rapped with the AnCrew was standing there, and he did not look happy.

"You think you're the shit, but we'll see about that. They say you're a gang leader but you're nothing but a pussy, and the only reason you won was because of that hot piece of ass," he sneered, pulling something out of his pocket.

I was staring at the other end of a switchblade.

Namjoon didn't speak, instead he reached to his back and pulled out a gun. He clicked it and pointed it at the boy, who suddenly looked like a meek little kid.

"Yeah. That's what I thought kid," Namjoon said, putting the gun back in his pocket before dragging me out of the building to the car.

I was reminded of the gas station, and my mood dropped remembering the gunshots and the fear of losing Levi.

I was reminded of just how dangerous Namjoon was, despite how sweet and angelic he looked when he smiled, or how sexy he looked when he rapped, winking at you. He was dangerous.