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intromortal · 2 months ago

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ꕥ GET YOURSELF A REAL MAN ⸝⸝⸝ smoking hot older!enhypen headcanons

⚠︎ smut. mdni. every party depicted in this work is an adult. this work contains age gaps (not specified, the members are just older.) power dynamics, step-cest, cheating. accurate warnings listed for each member

✷ NIA if you feel like you've already read this, it's because you have! this is a repost from my previous acc that i decided to bring back here. i plan to turn each one into their own full-on drabbles, but in the meantime, have this :)

ꕥ LEE HEESEUNG

⚠︎ | dad's bestie!hee, brief f!rec oral mention, dub-con

heeseung tried to stay away from you for so long, tried with all his might to resist you. you are just too young, and you’re his friends’ daughter. he knows it’s wrong but how can he help it when you’re so pretty? so gorgeous? and such a dirty little thing too, always trying to wordlessly seduce him. he notices how your lustful eyes follow him everywhere whenever he’s over at your parents house for dinner and you happen to be there too. he notices how you bite your lips raw and the way your thighs clench so hard under the table when he speaks to you. he notices how you always wear the most revealing outfits you can get away with for him, little shorts and tiny tops enhancing your curves so beautifully, an open invitation for him to completely ravage you. it makes him want to fucking ruin you.

that’s how he ends up sneaking in your room so late one night, after everyone already went to sleep, your parents so naive for offering him to stay the night too. your innocent sleeping form making his cock twitch in his pants as he thinks of all the dirty things he could do to you. the things he could make you do to him for being such a sly little slut.

he carefully slides in your bed, face hovering over your clothed cunt before lowering himself and pressing his tongue on it, spit smearing on those same shorts that make his mind go places it shouldn't. he works on your pussy just like that, fingers slipping past your shorts and inside your dripping hole, wet tongue sucking on your clit over the fabric but never actually touching you with it. he knows if he got a taste of your sweet little hole he would be a goner forever. he can tell you're awake by then, just pretending to sleep as your hips start to ride his digits and needy mewls leave your lips oh so sweetly. ones he will have to silence with his thick cock inside your mouth if you don’t stop it, “can’t have your parents find you’re such a whore for me… what would they think, angel?”

ꕥ PARK JONGSEONG

⚠︎ | step-dad!jay, step-cest, ddlg, infidelity, big cock jay, breeding kink, p in v

step-dad jay who has had a soft spot for you ever since he started dating your mom... to the oblivious eye merely a healthy stepdad-daughter relationship, but anyone paying attention more closely would find just how weirdly close you two are. always spending way too much time together, always making up some excuse to leave gatherings together, jay always so protective of you and straight up mean to any boyfriend you bring home for him to meet. he always says it’s because he just wants the best for you, sweet thing. only he knows that what he means by best, is himself.

“always bringing home these boys, never a worthy man,” he whispers against your mouth, spit dripping everywhere, as his warm hands encourage you to keep bouncing up and down his veiny length, salty tears still drying on your face from the pain of the stretch his unusually big cock always provides you. no matter how many times he makes you take it all, the first minutes are never easy. always slow, always filled with him whispering reassurance when you say you just can't take it. “what is daddy gonna have to do to make you understand you just deserve better?” he mouths at your neck, low groans in response to your pink manicured nails grabbing his slowly graying hair, sending heat straight to your core. he licks a stripe up your sensitive skin, relishing in the way your cunt that's already so stretched out and tight against him flutters at his words, trying to suck him in even more. “does daddy have to put a baby inside you, sweet thing mhh?”

you shake your head vehemently, the thought of your mom finding out what you’re doing with her husband making guilt knot in the pit of your stomach. he lands a few harsh slaps on your clit that have you yelping in his hold, clearly dissatisfied with your reaction. “you will take anything i give you,” he says in your ear, his firm tone leaving no room to talk back. he picks up his pace, quite literally hammering into your cunt as he holds you down by your waist with his strong hands. “daddy always knows best, pretty girl.”

ꕥ SIM JAEYUN

⚠︎ | boyfriend's dad!jake, cheating, sir kink, brief fingering

jake who hates to see a pretty girl like you in tears over scummy little boys. especially when the boy in question is his own idiot son. he couldn't understand how he even got such a gem as yourself to waste time with him, a liar and a cheater. jake knows his son better than anyone else. so finding out he was cheating on you and creating a fake instagram account to anonymously send you all the proof and the screenshots he collected was easy. it’s also easy to welcome you inside his home when you go there to confront your boyfriend, and sweetly comfort you when you find out he’s not there. jake’s rough and warm hands are so soft on your thighs, thick thumb swiping over the flesh so carefully, as if you might break any second. his tone is so smooth and buttery as he whispers soothing words in the crown of your hair. how you deserve so much better and how you’re a strong girl, you will be okay precious. his presence is so strong and he radiates such a manly energy, so different from that of your boyfriend, it makes you feel all fuzzy inside. jake notices how you clench your thighs right away, how your breathing becomes labored under his soft touches and affection. “i’m sorry for being such a mess right now, sir,” you sheepishly say, and his cock jumps at the term. you’re just so so sweet, he thinks as his full lips ghost over the shell of your ear, “just give me permission, and i’ll make you feel so much better, precious.”

you’re under him in no time, back pressed to your boyfriend’s sheets as jake ghosts his fingers along the slit of your fluttering pussy, already weeping for him. “so messy… so wet babydoll… who is this for?” he asks, purposefully collecting your slick to make a mess with it on his son’s sheets. “you sir!” you reply eagerly, hips rocking into his hold in search of more friction. he chuckles as he lowers his warm mouth to your cunt, eyes locked with your own. “i’ll take care of you so good precious… so good you won’t even know why you’re crying anymore.”

ꕥ PARK SUNGHOON

⚠︎ | ice skating instructor!hoon, daddy kink, reader has nipple piercings, p in v

sunghoon watches enamored as you glide across the ice rink, all dolled up with the dress he chose and gifted your for this competition, the gemstones in the shape of an S on your lower back reflecting the light so prettily with every movement you make. he’s been coaching you for months now and he thanks every entity he can think of for bringing such a lovely thing like yourself in his life. he knows most people wouldn't approve of your age gap, but they don't understand what being under your spell feels like. that’s exactly what you did: put a spell on him. your accidental brushes against his crotch while he corrected your form, your little groans as your joints stretched past your limit whenever you trained, your big doe eyes always looking at him for some sort of reassurance for any sort of praise. so fucking eager to please. so desperate for love.

you’re so obedient for him as he makes you ride him silly on the seats next to the ice rink after the competition is done and everyone’s already gone home. knowing very well anyone could walk in at any moment and catch you. but you're such a needy little slut for him he can feel how hard you clench around him whenever he mentions that possibility, whenever you think about anyone seeing you so full of his thick cock that took you twenty minutes to get used to. his length twitches so deep inside you when he notices how close you are but still won't let yourself cum, so whiny and desperate in his ear because you’re waiting for him to tell you to let go. so eager for his voice even when he’s making you go dumb on his cock.

“my lovely girl… you can let go baby, i got you,” he whispers as his mouth latches on one of your nipples, the metallic taste of the piercing adorning it filling his mouth and overwhelming his senses. such a dirty little slut hidden under your good girl façade.

you shake your head and pick up the pace, but can do nothing to stop your walls from fluttering around him as he literally forces your orgasm out of you, holding you down on his cock and pressing his tip so deeply inside you it makes you see starts, telling you that "it's okay honey, you're making daddy feel so good"

ꕥ KIM SUNOO

⚠︎ | ceo!sunoo and he's MEAN, oral m!rec, master kink, power dynamics, slight pet play (puppy), degradation

sunoo acts like hiring you, on request of his daughter (your best friend), was such a big big favor. and initially you thought so too; the money is good, the office is close to your apartment, your coworkers are nice too! sunoo even made sure you climbed up the ladder quicker than any other employee of his ever had. sure you are competent and you do your job well, but you were also so naive for thinking he wouldn't expect anything back.

after all he takes such good care of you in the company, why wouldn't he want you to return the favor?

it’s not rare for you to find yourself on your knees under his work desk, the door of his office open.

“open up for me… gonna let master use your mouth huh?,” he says, tapping his leaking cock on your lips and smearing all of his salty precum all over your pretty features.

“yes, master.” you do as you’re told right away, glossy eyes never leaving his as you stretch your mouth wide open for him, anticipating the struggle that always comes with welcoming his length anywhere in your body. and you’re right, he rams his cock in your mouth without giving you any time to adjust, his cock so thick and big you’re already choking all around him and it’s not even halfway in. his tip already brushing the back of your mouth. he tilts his head sideways and stares at you like you’re dumb, waiting for you to take more. you truly do try, big tears falling from your eyes as you try your best to not disappoint him. and he laughs at you. “useless little puppy,” he sighs, grabbing a handful of your hair and pushing you against his dick. “this should be easy for you by now. i know it’s big but i’ve been training you.” he cooes, his bottom lip jutting out in an expression of fake pity. “been making you gag on this cock for so long and you still can’t take it?”

your lashes are all wet with tears now, and you can’t tell if it's the hurt of having disappointed your master or the physical pain his member is causing you, but you can feel how it twitches in your throat when he notices your distress. he takes it out of your mouth, needy whines leaving you at the loss of weight in your tongue, and holds it over your face. “since you can’t suck cock properly,” he punctuates the last word vehemently. “lap it up. like the stupid little dog you are.”

ꕥ YANG JUNGWON

⚠︎ | professor!jungwon, teacher/student dynamics, car sex, face sitting, mentions of breeding, sir kink

the lovely professor yang jungwon is everyone’s crush in your university. he’s that one teacher everyone is constantly daydreaming about. so gentle, helpful, smart, funny and charming. he just has it all. it doesn't help that he’s so open about how much he loves his two year old son, always showing anyone that comes to his lectures pictures upon pictures of his baby on his phone. every single person swooning over he’s taking such good care of his kid as a single dad.

he takes such good care of you too, in the backseats of his car before you both go to your lectures: him to teach and you to learn. you’re straddling his face, his mouth latched on your sensitive little bundle of nerves as he switches between sucking on it and lapping at it like a man starved. you’re a moaning mess over him, your hips moving on their own volition as he ghosts his fingers on your thighs and traces them up to your lower back, his big hands bringing your entire weight down on his mouth.

“fuck jungwon… feels so good,” you moan as you throw your head back, eyes closed shut at the overwhelming sensation. you yelp out in pain when he nibbles on your clit a little too harshly for it to be a mistake. “sir… sorry sir.”

he goes back to lapping at your cunt, the tip of his tongue only occasionally prodding at your entrance, ignoring your mewls and whines for more. he makes you cum like that, depriving you over and over of what you really want until just a slight swipe of his tongue on your neglected clit is all it takes for you to gush all of your juices in his mouth. “so good for me… such a good girl…” he whispers as you come down from your high. and before you can even register it he pushes you lower, down to his cock and slaps it over your sensitive cunt a few times, making you jump slightly because of the overstimulation. he grabs your neck and clashes your lips to his, tongue lapping at your own as he lets you taste your own release, “gonna fuck you so good baby,” he says as he locks eyes with you, a glint you’ve never seen before hidden under the lustful shadow covering his irises and blown out pupils. “wanna give you a baby of your own… want to fill your tight little pussy up…”

#✷ mortal works #queued #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #jake smut #jay smut #sunghoon smut #jungwon smut #sunoo smut #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jungwon x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #enhypen headcanons #enhypen thoughts #enha smut #enhypen imagine

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asvtrials · 6 months ago

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𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

Emperor Geta x fem!reader, minors dni!

masterlist

summary: Emperor Geta was a selfish lover. He expected you to give him everything, every thread of your being, body, and soul. Yet he refused to do the same. Why would he? He was the Emperor and you were nothing but his concubine, not too long ago you were a common whore that he just happen to take a liking to, just a vessel for his satisfaction. So why was his mind suddenly screaming for him to kneel before you, to let your thighs straddle his face until he suffocates? warnings/tags: smut, mention of an orgy in the beginning, mention of exhibitionism, generally ancient Rome things, Emperor Geta tries to act unbothered but is smitten for his concubine, facesitting, oral (f! receiving), p in v, kind of rough, sub/dom dynamics (obviously), implied abuse, potentially out of character, not accurate to the Gladiator franchise...

a/n: This man is consuming my thoughts. This is me basically pushing my pussy drunk Geta agenda. I love the idea of Emperor Geta being arrogant and selfish but caving at the idea of hearing her scream and moan as loudly as that woman. 'Mae Columba' means my dove, 'Corculum' means sweetheart. Also, this is my first time writing this man

tags: @teechallas-blog @ladynoonwraith @quuinyoung @ghostinhours @slasherflickchick @marn13s-vilewhispers @munsongirl48 @getas-empress @hillarymurray4 @cleo-2345 @lookingformuses @meganfoxismywife @claa-01 @funsquadgoalzz-blog w/c: 3.3k English is not my first language. Sorry for any mistakes I make. I tried present tense for the first time.

── ୨ৎ

Your thin tunic provides you with little to no warmth, yet you weren't cold even on this chilly night.

Your Emperor's hand runs up and down your right side, his fingers keep grazing your nipple but he is too focused on conversing with Macrinus to notice the impact of his action.

Your eyes wander around the room, from the people who drank, smoked, and laughed, too gone to do anything other than that, to the numerous naked, sweaty bodies intertwined with each other in the most intimate way that was humanly possible.

Yet there was nothing intimate about what you observe. It was primal and carnal, most of them didn't even look like people anymore, the scene becoming too animalistic and raw.

These types of gatherings were rather common in the Palatine and you have gotten used to settings like this one. But this time you couldn't take your eyes off of two people. Two prostitutes amongst the crowd of moving bodies caught your attention.

A woman sitting on top of a man, on his face… The expression of pure bliss she had looks like it was taken out of a vulgar painting, a carefully crafted sculpture depicting the most euphoric moment of one's life. The man's tongue works meticulously on the woman’s cunt making her scream and moan like she was touched by the god's themselves.

The sight was enough for your breath to get caught in your throat.

That made Emperor Geta turn with a frown, some wine dripping from his full lips. You don’t notice that his eyes travel the path of your gaze, focusing on the same pair as you.

You snap back to reality when his hand gripped your thigh. If you weren't used to his rough touches you would yelp in pain.

When you meet his eyes, there's something behind them that makes you pause. Without a second glance, he turns back to his conversation, leaving you confused. But you don’t miss the way his hand slides further between your legs, almost teasingly.

It wasn't unusual for him to touch you in front of everyone, be it in these types of events or when the gladiator fights bored him to the point where he ordered you to get on your knees and ‘entertain’ him yourself.

But this time, his thumb merely grazes the thin fabric of your tunic between your legs as his hands grip your exposed thigh. Possessively.

Your mind started to race. Did you anger him? Was he upset?

You are in a room filled with naked bodies fucking each other like animals and it never angered him before when you watched. Sometimes you would even comment how ‘sloppy’ their technique was and he would chuckle. So what happened now?

You lean on his side, sliding your hand to his cheek, caressing it gently. He doesn’t react but he doesn’t push you away either. That feels like a win, an opening.

After being his concubine for so long you learned how to behave around him, how to slither your way out of trouble in case you had upset him.

A little touch here, a kiss there, a plea for forgiveness honeyed with praises about how good he is to you along with some dick sucking usually does the trick.

Geta was an emperor but he was also a man with a very big ego. You quickly understood that as much as it is a nuisance it could also become an advantage.

By the time you followed him to his chambers, it was well past midnight.

He had made it a habit to share a bed with you, not even the guards looked surprised anymore.

He walks inside the moment the guards open the heavy doors. He reaches for his golden belt with a heavy sigh but you quickly stop him. “Let me, my Emperor.” You speak, your voice soft. You quickly approach him and meet his stern gaze, waiting for his approval.

Geta lets go of the belt, letting his arms fall to his sides. He looks spent and tired from the long day but you could sense something else frustrating him.

Carefully, you undo his belt, feeling his shoulders relax at the loss of the heavy material. Your eyes travel up his body before finally meeting his gaze through your lashes but you are met with the same cold look from before.

You take a step back to settle the belt on the table. You aren’t sure if you should approach him again. You expected him to kiss you, to touch you while you were so close but he didn't do either. He just watched you with a raised brow and gritted teeth.

You avert your gaze, focusing on the detailed carvings of the table ignoring the fact that you had seen it a million times before.

You hear his sandals brush against the marble floor, making you shiver. You weren't sure what to expect, he hasn't looked this displeased with you in a long while.

“Mae Columba” ‘My dove’ he says, his voice barely above a whisper but it still held the authority of an Emperor. “Do you know why you wear such lavish cloths?” He asks, not expecting you to answer before continuing, his voice dropping “Why do you smell as good as you smell? Why do golden jewels hang from your ears and wrap around your wrists? Why you aren't passed around my soldiers like a common whore?”

He was right behind you now, his arms coming to cage you between him and the table.

His harsh words forced tears to collect on your lash line. You took a deep breath but your voice still quivered as you spoke. “Because you're the Emperor…”

“Because I'm the Emperor.” He repeats softly against your ear, yet there is no softness in his tone. “Then why do you wish for me to become someone else?”

“I don—”

“Lies!” He shouts, making you flinch away.

You don't dare to face him, remaining turned to him as his hands start to wander down your sides. “I saw how you looked at those filthy commoners…you were entranced, my dove”

“My Emperor I—”

“Have I not done enough for you?” He whispered, but his quiet tone gave you no comfort. His hands moved to your clothed chest, squeezing your breasts mercilessly.

A small whine escapes your lips, your back arching against him. “You gave me everything, my Emperor.” You manage to say through rugged breaths.

He hums pleased. “Clearly not enough since you wish to see me between your legs like a filthy whore.” He murmurs against your ear.

“No!” You yelp, grabbing his forearms after he squeezes your breasts particularly hard.

Your thighs meet in an attempt to soothe the aching between your legs. “I promise.”

“You promise?” He asks, his tone dripping with disbelief and mockery.

“Yes! I promise.” You reply quickly, desperation seeping out of your words.

“On the bed.” he commands lowly and you comply without words.

The bed was thrice the size of the bed you used to sleep in, soft with satin sheets and numerous pillows. A bed that an emperor deserved. You weren't sure if you deserved it, yet here you were, lying on the Emperor's sheets like you did many other times.

He looms over your lying figure eyes rolling down every curve of your body like a wolf eyeing a little lamb. His favorite little lamb.

The one that he never feasts upon but rather chases around until the poor thing is spent and exhausted and pliant for him to bite all he wants.

Geta’s hands find your ankles and he pulls you to him, earning a surprised yelp from you. He crawls to you, entrapping you between his arms once again.

He melts against your mouth, lips moving harshly against yours, refusing to give you a second to breathe. You cry loudly when his teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“My Emperor” you moan against his rough endeavors but he doesn’t stop, you aren’t sure if he even heard you. He was too busy squeezing your already bruising flesh, not even bothering to remove your tunic.

Red liquid escapes from the wound that Geta so eagerly opened. The metallic taste travels to your mouth but he doesn’t seem to mind, and as much as it scares you, neither do you. Instead, you claw at his back breathlessly repeating your words “My Emperor…Let me show you my devotion.”

Geta studies you, his big eyes making him look almost innocent under the dim candlelight.

His lips open to speak his mind, your spit and blood coating them but instead of speaking, he gently caresses your bottom lip with his thumb, smearing the blood.

What are these thoughts? These foolish ideas that plague his mind? His gaze couldn’t deter from your tearful eyes as he let his thumb run down your chin, the faint color of the blood following along.

You were so easy to break, to tear apart and carve as you pleased. He always did just that.

Yet you always came back.

You didn’t have a choice, he wasn’t foolish enough to forget that. But still, you looked at him with a particular dedication that Gate couldn’t quite comprehend.

Basically, involuntarily he whispers, letting his palm rest on the side of your face “You’ve proven your devotion, corculum. You’ve been so good…” Geta leans closer, his nose pressing your cheek. He breathes in your scent, fighting the urge to squeeze your face with his fingers.

Your breath hitches when he pushes his thumb past your inviting lips and he feels a moan threaten to spill when you sucked on his digit immediately. He couldn’t uncover any thoughts behind your eyes, only lust. Lust for him. Just like he lusted you.

Why is his breath coming out so short, why is his heart threatening to jump from his chest and into your arms? He isn’t even inside you yet and he feels like he can’t think properly.

You weren’t quiet during your shared activities but Geta was always too focused on his own selfish pleasure, rarely caring about yours.

But right now he feels the inexplicable urge to make you scream his name, to make everyone in the palace know, everyone in Rome, the urge to get on his knees and worship you just to get the blessing of your sounds in return.

Oh, you were sent by Venus herself, there was no doubt. There was no other explanation for his crazed thoughts.

The whine that he brings from you when he pulls his hand away burns something deep in his chest. He quickly yanks at his clothes, uncovering his naked, toned body.

Your eyes don’t dare to travel down but you find yourself on your fours, crawling to him. You press your lips to his stomach, tracing his toned body with your lips and tongue softly, teasingly.

A low growl leaves Geta from deep within his throat as he runs his hand through your hair, nearly gently before he grips your locks. He pulls your head back forcing your eyes to meet his, the sudden harshness causing you to freeze.

“You are an enchantress, aren’t you? You have turned me into a madman.” He mutters softly, his tone almost despairing as his blunt nails massage your scalp.

Looking up at him through your lashes you blink, unsure of what to say. Was this an indictment? It sounded more like a statement.

“I wouldn’t do such a thing, my Emperor.” You say softly.

He hums quietly, eyes falling to your legs and he has to swallow hard.

He has seen you like this so many times, and yet you left him speechless every time. From the first time he had bed you, you had left him speechless. Put a spell on him the moment he pushed his cock inside your warm, dripping cunt.

His mind told him to pound you against the mattress as hard as he could, so that every time your core throbbed tomorrow you would remember how vile it was for you to imagine him, your Emperor, between your thighs.

But his body betrayed him. He leans in, his bottom lip grazing your inner thigh.

“I don’t think you realize what you’re doing to me, mae columba” He whispers, so quietly that you could miss it if your senses weren’t so heightened.

He released a quivering breath before pressing his lips on your skin. You gasp at the action, gripping the smooth sheets. The feeling of your flushed skin against his lips was exhilarating, it was the beginning of something that he wasn’t sure he could control.

Without a second thought, his mouth starts to bruise your thighs fervently, his teeth plunging into your flesh like you were his last meal before the guillotine.

Your moans and cries fill the room and Geta’s heart as he continues to mark your thighs, his intensity matching a starved wolf.

He wanted more. He was insatiable, he was always insatiable.

With a swift movement, he flips the both of you. You yelp in surprise, as you land on his chest, your legs spread apart.

His head finds the soft mattress but he wouldn’t care even if it was the hard floor. All he could focus on was your clothed core, inches away from his face.

“My Emperor!” You begin. You weren’t sure what to say, how are you even supposed to react to such a scene?

Rome’s Emperor gazing at you between your thighs, looking as famished as ever.

“Quiet.” He growls, his arms coming to wrap around your thighs. His hands slowly travel up your body, dragging your tunic with his fingers revealing more of your skin.

Your naked cunt was inches away from his face, his breath hitting your soaked folds sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes couldn’t leave your core, mouth watering at the sight. Impatient, you peel off the dress, revealing your naked body.

It was a pattern whenever you were around him. But this time it didn’t make your cheeks burn about being so vulnerable before his ravenous gaze. On the contrary, it made your chest flutter with satisfaction as you lay on top of one of Rome’s brutal Emperors.

No warning was given to you before he harshly pulled you down to him. His tongue lays flat against your pussy, emitting a desperate sound from you. Soon enough he was lost in the feeling of your wetness. There was no point in fighting your spell anymore, he was already hypnotized.

Your eyes can’t leave his face. The way he loses himself so eagerly forces your breath to become shallow and desparate.

His tongue laps on your cunt sloppily, and your juices run down his chin though he never wavers, not even for a second. His mouth worked against your folds like he wanted to consume you whole, to drain you of your essence.

“Gods!” You moan loudly, throwing your head back. “My Emperor!” You cry out.

He whimpers against your pussy, he fucking whimpers. You aren’t sure if you can hold on much longer after that. It seems like any fear or shame you had abandoned your body because you start to rock your hips against his face, his nose brushing against clit with every move.

“I can’t take it anymore, my Emperor—” you gasp, your body trembling uncontrollably.

He grabs your waist, his nails digging into your skin possesively. He pulls you even closer to him, if that is even possible, his tongue running over your folds callously.

Your climax came to you like a violent wave, your body shakes violently after your release. Geta doesn’t stop though, his tongue collecting your fluids even if you jolted and whined.

He only stopped when he had nothing else to take. Like always.

You fall to the side, your mouth agape as you pant frenziedly. Geta isn’t looking any better, his slick-covered lips are parted slightly and his chest rises and falls rapidly.

“Gods…” You breathe out.

Geta finally finds his strength again, moving to position himself above you. His burning body pressed against your side, his lips brushing your temple. “Where the gods between your legs, corculum?”

“That’s what it felt like” You whisper and he fought the urge to smirk.

“Turn around.” He orders lowly, the playfulness draining from his voice.

With all the strength left in you, you comply, turning around to lie on your chest. You gasp when the Emperor effortlessly lifts your thighs off the mattress.

You whine at the feeling of his hard cock brushing against your dripping cunt.

With one forceful push he’s inside your tight walls and you scream. Your nails rake at the satin sheets as he grunts at the warmness that envelops his cock. “You always feel so good, my dove. Like you were made for me” He groans, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

“P-perhaps I was” You moan, the sound muffled by the sheets, your eyes nearly rolling back.

He sneers lowly. “Always know just what to say. How to bewitch me with your words…”

You yelp when you feel his hand clutch your jaw and pull you backward. Your back slams against his hard chest. He draws his hips back making you whine at the feeling of his dick slipping away before slamming it back inside. He did it again and again until you were crying and clawing at his hand.

“My Emperor!” You cry out and if it wasn’t for his strong hands you would’ve fallen forward.

His cock hits you so deep, so good you can’t help the tears that run down your flushed cheeks and the lewd cries that fall from your lips still they aren’t nearly as lewd as the wet, sloppy sounds that follow after every intense thrust.

His own grunts are so loud against your ear that you swear you can come from the sounds he’s making alone. It was never this intimate with Geta, so close. He usually pushes your head against the pillows and fucks you into the mattress like an animal. You rarely see his face or hear his sounds other than the harsh words he spews at you.

Your back arches at the harshness of his thrusts, and your head falls on his shoulder. His hand slides down to your core. You feel his smirk against your ear when he flicks your clit and you flinch.

“Geta!” You scream his name as you come for a second time for the night, your voice hoarse from all the screaming.

If your brain wasn't mushed from pleasure you would slap a hand over your mouth, bracing yourself for his palm landing on your cheek.

He grabs your face and turns your head to face him. The moment your eyes meet you know there won’t be any repercussions for your defiance. His pupils are so blown to the point where you couldn’t locate the light brown of his iris. He pulls you for a heated kiss and with one last, mind-numbing thurst he spills his seed deep inside you.

He falls forward and pulls you with him. You fall on all your fours, his chest falling flush on your back. You whimper when his cock moves inside your overstimulated pussy with the movement.

Geta’s breath was hot against your shoulder and his hands squeezed your waist occasionally, seemingly without noticing.

“My Emperor,” You breathed out. “Forgiv—”

“Quiet.” He rasped, silencing you immediately.

He threw the both of you to the side, pulling you closer to him by the waist.

That day Geta, with his dick deep inside you, realized two things. That you have probably enchanted him and that he didn’t care one bit.

Because if being bewitched meant that he would spend his living days between your legs, getting drunk on you, then he would gladly do it.

#elle's favs #elle writes...geta #emperor geta #joseph quinn #joseph quinn smut #emperor geta smut #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x female reader #emperor geta x y/n #gladiator ii #gladiator movie #gladiator ll #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x y/n

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nothoughtsjustfic · 4 months ago

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Finding Yourself - C.SC [Part 1]

🐢Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🐢What: 18+. Dark themes. Mafia au. Angst. Fluff. Suggestive. Slow burn. Mafia Boss Seungcheol. Single parent Seungcheol. Strangers to friends to lovers. Chan is reader’s little brother. Hansol is Seungcheol’s son. 🐢Word count: 15.5k 🐢Warnings: Characters with autism/ADHD. Selective mutism. Mentions and depictions of being overwhelmed/sensory overload and meltdowns. Off screen gang violence including gun use. Implied intention of non-con in discussion. Mentions of skipping meals/poor diet/nutrition. Mentions of past child abuse/abusive parents. Homelessness due to running away and associated issues; lack of money/food/water etc. Mentions of past forced sex work. 🐢Summary:“In an attempt to protect your little brother, you run away from home and the gang your father forced you into as a teenager.

You truly thought you were done with that life. But months later, when members of the Centaurs gang find you and your brother squatting in their property mid gang-fight, they take you back to their headquarters and force you right back into it.

Suddenly, you find yourself living in the home of the leader of the oldest, most famous gang in the entire country, and you very quickly realise that he isn’t the ruthless monster everyone thinks he is.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist Finding Yourself Part 2 – Finding Yourself Part 3

Disclaimer: Okay, so I feel like I need to point out that I do have both autism and ADHD, and I have done a lot of research around both during my own discovery/diagnosis periods; even now I’m constantly learning that more aspects of myself are very common in people with autism/ADHD so there is truth behind how the characters are portrayed in this fic. Yet, with that being said, both autism and ADHD are very vast in that you can have a room full of people with both disabilities and yet every single one of those people are incredibly different, which means that the characters in this story who have autism or ADHD are not accurate portrayals of every single person with either. There are 4 clearly stated autistic people in this fic throughout and they are each different personalities and how their disability affects them. So please don’t leave comments or send rude asks accusing me of misrepresentation or anything like that just because a character you’ve watched in a movie isn’t written the same as these characters, thanks.

Tears. It’s always tears when you need silence. When you’re trying to sleep. When you’re trying to keep you both safe. It’s always tears.

“Shhh, Channie, shhh, it’s okay,” you try to soothe your little brother through a sensory meltdown that was triggered minutes ago by the overwhelming noises of yelling and gunfire echoing deafeningly around the warehouse.

You thought it would be safe here. The place seemed abandoned, yet secure, with no broken windows to let in the breeze, nor any sign of recent human activity, only some stray animals and their leavings. But it was the best shot you had, and for almost a week, it had been a little slice of dirty haven for you and Chan.

Then, less than twenty minutes ago, you heard multiple cars pull up outside of the dusty warehouse and then footsteps entered the building. You had curled up protectively around your brother in the corner of a room, hidden by the shadows as the newcomers swept through the warehouse for any signs of life. Somehow they entirely missed the two of you, and you were so grateful for it, even if you remained in place, holding your brother in the shadows for a little longer, just in case.

But now, whatever meeting is happening has gone awry and the ear-splitting sounds have set off your five-year-old brother. Although you want to curl up into a tiny ball and cry too as the sounds assault your own senses, you can’t; your meltdown will have to wait until you’re both safe again.

Which won’t happen if Chan doesn’t stop screaming and thrashing, kicking out while also trying to burrow himself right into your chest to try and block the noises and gain comfort from the only person who has shown him any in a long time.

Though, there’s only so much you can do, only so much your hands pressed over his own on his ears do to block the sensory overload when you can feel the noise in your own chest, and you know that Chan has always been much more sensitive about such things.

You wish you have a pair of ear defenders for him, but your father never believed in them and Chan’s mother was perhaps even worse where caring about the poor boy was concerned, so he was never given the tools needed to support him. And your limited finances upon running away with your little brother have gone to keeping him fed and as warm as possible. There have been no spare pennies for such things, even with you skipping meals and sacrificing supplies for yourself in order to protect your brother.

All you can do is hope that it will be over soon and the gangsters, who have intruded upon your safe space, will rapidly leave without hearing Chan’s shrieking.

Of course, with your luck today, it doesn’t go how you hope.

Even before the yelling and gunfire has ceased, the door swings open and a couple of men enter with guns raised. It’s easy for them to locate you with Chan still screaming and kicking out at everything he can reach.

“What do we have here?” The slighter shorter of the two men smirks while eyeing you and your brother as the pair stop too close for comfort, yet still far enough away that your brother’s thrashing doesn’t reach them.

“Something pretty, and something pretty fucking annoying,” the other man retorts, making the first guffaw while you continue to try to soothe Chan and keep him still without removing your eyes from the dangerous men. “Think we got time to take turns?”

“Nah, even if we did, I won’t be able to enjoy it with the little shit screaming like that.”

“Knock him out.”

“Don’t even joke about hurting a kid ‘round here,” the shorter man warns, giving his partner a firm look. “Boss would kill you slowly if word got back to him. You know he’s protective of kids.”

“Then what the fuck do we do? We can’t kill the bitch either because he don’t like kids left behind, and I’m pretty sure we’re fucked if they find out we left them here.”

The two men stare at you and Chan in careful consideration for almost a full minute.

The answer only comes when the gunfire finally ceases, even if Chan doesn’t stop screaming yet. “We’ll have to take them with us.”

As much as you’d rather not go along with the two men, or the dozen or so other men with them, you know you don’t have a choice. If it’s only you who you have to worry about, you’d have already risked sneaking out while the showdown was in progress, but with Chan to consider, you can’t risk the gunfire being turned on you.

So, when the pair stalk you out of the safety of the room with Chan still wailing against your chest as you carry him, though luckily he’s now clinging to you and not wildly thrashing, and a gun pressed to your back, you go while mourning the items you’ve lost due to not being able to pack up anything. The men had only hovered long enough to let you pick up Chan and grab your backpacks.

Up until you’re in the car with another man sliding into the seat to your left while looking bewildered, you have no idea who these gangsters are, but this new man has his arms on show despite the cold weather and the centaur tattoo on his right bicep stares at you mockingly.

Today really isn’t your lucky day.

“What’s this?” He demands, almost glaring at the two men in the front of the car while motioning vaguely to you and your little brother.

“Found them in a room, kid was screaming the place down, this is quiet for him,” the driver, the shorter of the pair, replies, tone almost polite now and you can safely guess that this tall, muscled man is a much higher rank than them. “Didn’t know what to do with them considering the rules about kids and everything.”

“So, you decided to completely bypass me and make a decision on your own?” The tall man asks, now closing the car door behind him and reaching for his seatbelt, yet he stops and motions to the space between you two. “Put him there so he can be strapped in,” he says to you, already grabbing the seatbelt for the middle seat ready to pull over.

“What?” You mutter dumbly.

“This car isn’t going anywhere until we’re all strapped in securely and it’s unsafe for a child to be strapped in on your lap. Put him here so he can be safe between us, I’ll keep my arm in front of him so he can’t fall.”

“He can sit next to the door,” you reply and start to move over into the centre yourself, but the man makes a dismissive noise and shakes his head.

“No, if that door gets rammed, he’ll get seriously injured; he should go in the middle, so our bodies protect him.”

“How likely is it that we’ll get rammed?”

“More likely than you realise, especially if the ones we just met have back up waiting down the way.”

“Then just let us go.”

He sighs. “I wish I could, seriously, I don’t want to endanger your son, but those idiots are right in that leaving you is a bad idea, we can’t trust you. So, either you willingly put him down or I move him myself and I think that would just make him more upset.”

For a few seconds, you do nothing but stare at the man, hoping that he’ll suddenly decide to trust a complete stranger and let you go, but he doesn’t, and you reluctantly adjust Chan to sit him at your left side between the two of you.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” you whisper as you press down on his legs to stop him from trying to climb onto your lap again. “I’m not leaving, we just need to strap in, okay? We’re going to strap in and go for a drive, okay, Squirt?”

Silently, the man manoeuvres the safety belt across Chan’s body and clicks it into place as you continue to soothe your little brother. Then, the man reaches over even further to plug your seat belt in before finishing with his own and kicking the back of the driver’s seat lightly to prompt him to start the car.

Thankfully, Chan calms down once the car is in motion and you’ve pulled out his comfort turtle plushie for him to squeeze to his chest repeatedly.

You know the man on Chan’s left is watching your brother as he almost hurts himself with the toy, but you don’t care, all you care about is that Chan’s self-soothing is working and isn’t hurting him. The man can think whatever he wants.

The location you’re taken to isn’t one you’ve ever been to before, yet nobody needs to speak the name for you to know that this large, sprawling estate fortified with three sets of tall gates and walls, plus guards, is the base of the Centaurs, the oldest still running gang in the country.

The whereabouts of the estate isn’t a secret, it’s easy information to get, but due to the sheer size of the gang and their legendary skills, especially of the leaders and head family, not even the authorities are brave enough to launch an attack. Though some over-cocky gangs have been dumb enough to try over the years and inevitably failed without making it past even the first wall.

The place truly is one of the most secure places in the entire country. It almost puts military compounds to shame with the levels of security covering the sprawling grounds.

It feels more like a village based on how long you remain in the car once past the first two sets of gates, and all the buildings and people you pass on the gravel roads.

Then, when the final wall is in view, you’re moved into another car, with only the tall man joining you after he’s talked to another man a little shorter than himself. The tall man doesn’t say a word once he’s in the driver’s seat after making sure you and Chan are strapped in, before driving further forward along the gravel roads and through the final gates.

Finally, you see the impressive, impeccably well-kept, grand building that is Choi Manor where it sits pride of place in the very centre of the estate, behind all three walls.

There are nowhere near as many people wandering around now. It seems more like you only see groundsmen maintaining all the greenery and plant life, turning the area within the final wall into something almost out of a fairy tale. It’s truly beautiful.

Chan peers out of the window as best as he can when he can barely see over the edge of the door, with his wide, red rimmed eyes staring at all the colours of the flowers and fruits in awe. He’s never seen so many different plants in one place, in fact, you would even go as far as to say he’s never seen so many plants full stop.

Your own family home was never this natural; your father preferred to do away with nature to save the hassle of having to have people tend to it. The closest was the greenhouse your father let you keep for yourself for a few years before Chan was even born, until your father’s new wife destroyed it in a jealous fit when he didn’t buy her the car she wanted. Never mind the fact that she never learned to drive.

“Okay, so, a few things,” the tall man states when he parks the car beside a handful of other similar cars in front of the extravagant home. He turns off the engine and unplugs his seatbelt so that he can turn around in his seat to face you directly. “The boss isn’t home right now and won’t be until late, and I obviously can’t let you wander around unattended, so you’re going to be locked in one of the guest rooms with someone outside your door until the boss is back and decides what to do next. Understood?” You just nod.

Honestly, it’s a lot better than expected; you assumed you’d be locked up in a storage room or something equally as unwelcoming, not a guest bedroom of the most lavish home you’ve ever seen outside of movies and TV shows.

“Make sure you both shower and dress in clean clothes before the boss is back, you don’t want to meet him dirty. And eat, I guess you haven’t eaten in a while, right? You look skinny. I’ll get some food sent up. Does he like nuggets?” He motions vaguely to Chan.

“Nuggets?”

“Yeah, chicken nuggets. I think there’s some animal shapes, but they may be all gone; we don’t get groceries in until tomorrow.”

“Uh… he’s never had them.”

“What?” The man sputters in disbelief. “What kid has never had animal nuggets?! I’ll send out for some if we don’t have any. It’s a crime you’ve never fed your son animal nuggets, seriously.”

Despite this being the second time that he’s assumed Chan to be your son, you don’t correct him; you’re too caught up on other things to care to put the relationship between you straight. “Why would you assume I have access to things like that when we were sleeping in what I thought was an abandoned warehouse?”

“Oh…right, sorry, wasn’t thinking.” He gives you an awkward, apologetic smile before climbing out of the car.

He leaves you to unplug yourself and Chan at your own pace and climb out of the car to join him on the white gravel. Chan is immediately taken by the sound and shuffles on his feet to hear the clacking and grinding under his boots.

When you look up, you expect to see the man about to urge you on, however, he’s simply watching Chan with his head tilted a little, curious, and with the slight hint of a smile on his lips.

Surprising you further, the man patiently waits until Chan is satisfied and takes your offered hand to quietly and closely toddle alongside you behind the stranger into the huge house.

“Sorry, there’s no kid size guest slippers,” the man apologises as he puts down a pair of adult guest slippers from a section of the unit beside the shoe rack, which you don’t really pay any attention to as you’re too busy trying to remove both yours and Chan’s boots to not dirty the perfectly polished marble flooring.

Though you can’t say either of your socks are in much better condition than the soles of your shoes and embarrassedly shove your feet into the slippers before your filthy, hole-riddled socks can be seen. At least Chan’s socks are new, if dirty. Still, you pick him up quickly and hope the man hasn’t noticed the condition of your brother’s socks.

“This way.”

Quietly, you follow the man down the hall and stand outside of a room when he motions you to, allowing him to step inside alone. You hear him talking to another man in low voices for a moment, then he reappears with a slim man who is barely shorter than him, though you think if the first didn’t slouch so much he’d be even taller.

“Hello, I’m Junhui,” the new man greets you with a friendly smile, entirely throwing you off with his open, welcoming aura. “I’m the house chef so I need to know if you or your son have any allergies or dietary requirements so that I can prepare you something delicious!”

“Uhm, no allergies,” you reply and adjust Chan in your hold; he’s too big for you to easily hold him for prolonged periods now so you need to alter his place against your chest fairly frequently in order to keep supporting his weight.

Some months back, you could’ve carried him for extended lengths of time, and you often used to indulge him whenever he asked, regularly carrying him around on your back as you went about your daily life, so long as it was appropriate. But that was then; so much has changed since. Some days you can barely even hold your own body up, let alone his.

“And requirements? For any reason: belief or preference, I need to know,” the cook continues with genuine interest.

“He’s very particular about his food,” you admit and tilt your head towards Chan a little as if they won’t realise that you’re talking about him. “The plainer the better really.”

“Oh, we have one like that already,” Junhui chuckles and flaps a hand almost dismissively as if it’s nothing. “I can handle that no problem! How old is he? I need to know what portion sizes.”

“Five, almost six, but he’s never had a big appetite.”

“Oh!” Junhui and the tall man both look astonished at the information, with matching raised eyebrows and slightly widened eyes. “Perhaps that’s why he’s so small! I thought he’s more like three going on four! I’ll try to make accordingly, but if he’s still hungry, you get a message to me, and I’ll bring more; we can’t let the kids go hungry! Or mama, what about your diet?”

“Oh, uhm, don’t worry,” you try to dismiss the concern, and both men instantly look at you sternly.

“What do you eat, ma’am?” Junhui repeats firmly. “Do you have allergies?” You shake your head silently in response. “What do you usually eat?”

“Whatever he doesn’t finish,” you answer meekly, embarrassed to admit to your inability to afford to feed yourself.

But it seems as if the kind chef doesn’t quite understand. “Okay, and what else?”

“Jun,” the tall man murmurs, gently tapping the other with the back of his fingers. Junhui looks at him and the pair exchange some barely-there expressions, which you don’t have the mental energy to even try to discern the meanings of, before they both look at you and there’s now something you think must be sympathy in the cook’s eyes.

“Oh, right. Uhm, well, what do you like? I can make almost anything!” He offers, brightening back up out of his slightly awkward understanding.

“It’s okay.”

“Please just tell him what you enjoy eating so I can show you to your room,” the tall man pleads. “He’ll make us stand here all afternoon and night if you don’t.”

“I’m just grateful you’re feeding him,” you assure.

“If you don’t tell me what you enjoy eating, ma’am, I will send dish after dish to your room until one comes back empty,” Junhui warns, and something about this man tells you that he’s being entirely serious.

“J-Just you know…uhm…I uh…” your mind is suddenly blank; you can feel the stress and anxiety of the past few hours building up and threatening to break you right here in front of the strangers. The kind chef and the high-ranking member of the most famous gang in the country. You really don’t want to fall apart in front of them.

“How about you think about it, and we’ll get a message down when you’ve decided?” The tall man offers. You nod quickly in agreement. “Okay, let’s go straight to your room and Jun will send some snacks up while you think, yeah?”

“I can do snacks!” Junhui promises before turning and scuttling further down the hall.

“He really loves feeding people,” the tall man says with a little chuckle before motioning back the way you came, so you back up to let him lead the way to the entrance hall and then up the grand staircase.

The bedroom he takes you is at the back of the house and overlooks the patio with a view out over the gardens and lawn beyond, though you don’t do more than simply glance over at the large windows before focusing on the room itself.

There’s a king-sized bed against the back wall and on the opposite wall, with a fair distance in between, is a flat screen TV sitting before a plush looking loveseat and low table. You can see two doors on the wall opposite to the entrance door and assume they lead to an ensuite and walk in wardrobe, but other than that, it’s all rather empty.

“This room isn’t used that much and it’s further away from the frequently used rooms, plus below is the ballroom and well, that definitely doesn’t get used often so I thought this room would be best, because it’ll be quieter here. I guess your son is noise sensitive?”

“You care about that?” You ask shocked as you look at him and finally put Chan down on the floor to rest your arms, though he stays glued to your side despite being obviously curious as he peers around from the edges of his vision.

“Yeah, kids are important and everyone in this house and inner estate believes in that too. We’ll all do whatever we need to make your time here comfortable.”

“We’re hostages, not guests,” you remind simply.

The man winces a little. “Yeah, I guess so.” He shrugs helplessly. “It is what it is, I guess. I really don’t know what the boss is going to do later; we haven’t had this situation occur before so we’re all kind of clueless, but we don’t want to hurt you or your son.”

“He’s not my son,” you finally correct, not sure what else to say and look down at Chan. “He’s my brother.”

“Oh! Okay. What’s his name?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It’d be nice to have something to call him. What about a nickname then?”

“He won’t talk to you, it doesn’t matter.”

“Right.” There’s a moment of tense silence before the man talks up again. “What about you? Can I at least know a name to call you?”

For a few seconds, you debate not answering him, but then you figure the least you could do is give the man something to refer to you as, even if you refuse to give your real name. “Pearl,” you answer, giving the only name your brother calls you, after a character in his favourite movie.

You don’t know if the man realises it’s just an alias or not, but he smiles at you as if he doesn’t care and is just glad to have a name to call you. “I’m Mingyu, I’ll oversee your care until the boss is back, so if you need anything you can ask whoever is outside the door for me and I’ll come right away. For now, I’ll let you poke about the room while I get fresh bedding and towels and everything. Do you have spare clothes? I’ll get extra anyway for you both. I’ll be right back!” He darts out of the room and closes the door behind him gently, yet securely, before you can even try to answer.

“Where we?” Chan asks seconds later when he looks up at you.

“Where are we,” you correct naturally, trying to prevent his delayed speech getting worse with only you for company. It’s hard when you’re not personally used to talking to people very much, even back when you had people around to talk to. But you’re trying to do the best you can for your little brother and not impede his development further. It’s just hard.

“Where are we?” Chan repeats without hesitation, already long ago used to being corrected, though he has only ever tried to absorb and learn your own words, no-one else’s.

It’s much easier for him to progress now that his sole educator genuinely cares about him and understands his struggles. He’s come in leaps and bounds in some ways the past few months, but you know the life you’ve dragged him into won’t be good for his growth in the long run.

Every day you wish you can do better for him, but there are too many obstacles for you to traverse on your own and half the days you’re stuck in an endless loop of regret from taking him away, and relief from taking him away, with no room left in your mind and soul to do anything but stare off until Chan needs you.

“Just somewhere until we find our next move,” you answer, not sure what to say to the innocent boy because you can’t exactly tell him the truth, though you don’t want to lie to him if you can help it. You hate being lied to so you’ve always made a point of being as honest with Chan as you can. He deserves that much, at the very least.

“Mm, okay,” he replies and lets go of you to start wandering around curiously.

You remain in the middle of the room and watch him for a few minutes until there’s a knock on the door and Chan scrambles back to your side.

“It’s me!” Mingyu calls. “Mingyu!” He adds, and you call for him to come in, so the door opens and the tall man steps inside with his arms full of a bundle of different materials, and another shorter man following him. “This is Seungkwan; he’s really good with kids and bugged me to let him meet your brother. That’s cool, right?”

“I don’t have a choice who you bring here,” you point out while putting your hand on Chan’s head protectively when both men move into the room to step past you in different directions. Mingyu places the bundle of clothing in his arms on the couch while Seungkwan scuttles over to the bed and starts to strip it of the stale sheets.

“We don’t want to overwhelm you two,” Mingyu explains. “I know it’s not your choice to be here and chances are, you’re two very innocent people caught in the wrong place, so you’ve done nothing wrong and there is no issue between us.”

You can’t help but wonder what kind of tune this man would be singing if he saw the brand on your thigh. You know it wouldn’t be a good one.

“Bring the sheets, Gyu,” Seungkwan encourages now that he has the bed entirely bare of any sheets.

Obligingly, Mingyu grabs the clean bedding from the bundle to approach and help Seungkwan set up the bed neatly while you and Chan watch silently, though whenever the pair look over at you, Chan looks away and presses further into your leg.

“So,” Mingyu starts once the bed is ready and he and Seungkwan move closer. Though they keep more than just a polite distance from you both, even if Seungkwan keeps glancing at Chan as if he wants to talk to the little boy yet can see that it’s not a good idea. “Have you thought about what you want to eat?”

“Oh…no,” you reply honestly. “I forgot.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” He tilts his head, curious and a little confused as if he doesn’t understand how you can’t be hungry considering the state of you.

“No,” it’s another completely truthful answer and makes the tall man look even more puzzled, but at least he doesn’t question it.

“Okay, well, maybe some snacks will bring back your appetite. We don’t have any women’s clothes, you’re the only woman in the manor in years so I brought you some of mine, I hope that’s okay.”

“You idiot,” Seungkwan scolds and backhands Mingyu’s closest arm, making the tall man break into a pout, to your complete astonishment. “Those will drown her!” The smaller man looks at you with a kind smile. “I’ll get you some of my own, those will be better suited, and I’ll get something for your brother. We might have some clothes small enough, but they might be too big. But at least they’ll do until his own clothes are cleaned up, right?”

Honestly, you’re still too thrown off by how kind the men in this house have been to you so far to be able to answer in any certain way. It’s very kind, yes, and you truly appreciate it, at least for Chan’s sake so he doesn’t have to suffer more, but you can’t believe they’re doing this out of the goodness of their own hearts. It’s unfathomable to you.

All you do is make a vague sound in response that Seungkwan takes as agreement and smiles, only telling you that he’ll be right back before leaving.

“Did you look at the bathroom?” Mingyu prompts, pointing to the still closed doors. You shake your head. “I’ll show you how the shower and stuff work, they’re stupidly complicated with all the options,” he says as he walks over to the left-hand door and opens it to an all-white bathroom, which is lit brightly despite the overhead light not being turned on, thanks to the large window above the tub against the back wall.

You pick Chan up to carry him into the bathroom and peer around curiously while Mingyu rambles on about how long it took him to get used to the fancy showers here when he first joined, and then they changed them to even fancier ones with more options, so he had to learn it all again.

It’s strange how different the large man seems at the manor compared to when you first met him. Although there had clearly been care in him then, as evident by his insistence on all of you wearing seatbelts and the arm that he had kept in front of Chan the entire drive with enough space to not be close to touching the boy, he had seemed every bit the gangster he must be to be a Centaur. Yet, now at the house, he’s almost a different person; no tense edges and only open expressions.

It must be that thing about people being themselves when they’re at home; feeling safe and able to be honest about who they truly are. You’ve never had that and wonder what it must feel like to experience that genuine ease and comfort, to be free. You doubt you’ll ever know.

“Ah, shit,” Mingyu curses when the water sprays out over him once he turns one of the dials. “I forgot about the multiple heads,” he grumbles and turns the water back off to face you while pulling his sleeveless t-shirt away from his torso where the water is making it start to stick and enhance his muscled chest. “Oh, sorry! I swore in front of him!” He apologises with wide eyes and one hand coming up to cover his mouth guiltily.

“He’s heard worse,” you reply, not at all bothered by the curse as you often drop minor curses in front of Chan, and he hasn’t copied them yet. Nor the more vulgar ones your father prefers.

“Still, I shouldn’t do it.” He glances over your shoulder a second before you hear footsteps approaching, making you move aside and turn so that you have a clear view of everyone.

“Hopefully, these will all be okay,” Seungkwan says as he enters the bathroom with a pile of clothing to place on the counter. “You can keep it all too if you want, none of it gets used anyway so it’d be better if someone who’d make use of it all gets it.”

“Oh. Thank you,” you reply, once again shocked by the kindness of these men but starting to get a little more accustomed to it, enough to show some gratitude at least.

“No problem!” He chirps then moves back to the bedroom to grab the towels from the couch to also put on the bathroom counter. “As far as I’m aware, everything you might want should be in the cupboards; the bathrooms are usually always fully stocked.” To check the validity of his own words, Seungkwan goes over to the unit and opens the doors to reveal more towels, toilet rolls, cleaning products and toiletries. “Ah, I’ll take these ones, they probably smell musty now; they must’ve been in here a while.” He plucks out the stack of towels and sniffs them, immediately pulling a face. “Yeah, I’ll go get you more.” He wanders off before anyone can say anything.

“I’ll let you shower and everything. I imagine snacks will be in the bedroom by the time you’re done,” Mingyu declares. “You can lock the doors too, by the way, this one and the bedroom door if that makes you feel safe. But if you don’t answer when we knock, at least half of us can either pick the lock or break it off, but we will only do that if you don’t answer in a reasonable time. For safety reasons; both yours, and ours.”

“I understand,” you reply simply and nod a little in agreement to his warning.

“Okay, great! Enjoy your showers and I’ll see you in a bit!”

Mingyu leaves and you wait until you watch him also leave the bedroom and shut the door behind him before you put Chan down and close the bathroom door, immediately clicking the lock into place.

“Use the toilet, Squirt,” you encourage, motioning to the toilet and glad that Chan waddles straight over obediently to do his business while you rummage through the cupboard to take out the necessary supplies.

“Hurts,” Chan’s words make you look over to where he’s still sitting on the toilet and frowning at you.

“Your belly?” He shakes his head. “Oh, to pee?” He nods. “Ah, I was worried you haven’t had enough to drink. Okay, well hopefully they’ll have left drinks, and you can drink lots and that will help.”

“Juice?”

“Mm, maybe, I don’t know, bud.”

“I want apple juice.”

“We’ll see what they give us. It might just be water.” Chan pulls a face. “I know you don’t like water but it’s good, remember? We need to make sure we drink enough of it to be healthy. You didn’t drink your water this morning and now it hurts to pee.”

“Lots but not too much,” he repeats the words you’ve said to him many times when convincing him to drink his daily water intake.

It was so much easier when you had access to whatever drinks you wanted, but now you can rarely afford to buy anything other than cheap bottled water or refill empty bottles at public water fountains, which are few and far between these days. So sometimes, it’s truly a struggle to keep you both hydrated.

“Exactly, too much or too little is bad for us.”

“Need to be healthy.”

“We do. And clean, so finish up and let’s get you showered.”

“Water?” Chan gasps excitedly and rushes to get off the toilet and close the lid before flushing it, then speeds over with his trousers still around his knees, but you don’t scold him for it; there’s no point when he’s about to take them off. Also, it makes him waddle like a penguin and it’s rather amusing.

“Yeah, get naked and I’ll get it nice and warm.”

“Water time!” Chan exclaims happily and rapidly starts to throw off his clothes, making you once again glad that you have been able to buy him clothes that are easy for him to handle on his own, without buttons or zips for him to get frustrated with. One less reason for a meltdown.

Although he doesn’t have any water safe toys to play with in the shower, Chan has endless fun jumping under the warm water and splashing around while singing every water themed song he can think of, even making up plenty too, while you sit on the tiles outside of the splash zone and watch fondly.

There will never be anyone who you love and adore more than your little brother. You’d do anything for him, risk everything if it would make him smile like this all the time.

Though after a while, you do have to stop his joyful playing so that you can give him a soapy sponge for him to clean his body while you scrub his shaggy hair clean as he sits on the wet tiles in front of where you kneel, getting your jeans wet but you don’t care.

Once Chan is all clean, you wrap him up in a few towels and sit him on the dry tiles facing the wall so he can play with the few toys from his backpack and remain occupied while you shower. It’s not that often that you can shower properly, usually you just have to wash you both over with baby wipes, or with a damp cloth when you can find a private space big enough for it. Showers have become a luxury over the past months, but even with the little amount you’ve had, Chan knows that he must remain looking away while you shower to give you privacy, and he only complains about it if he doesn’t stay entertained with toys for the duration.

As much as you’d love to stand under the water and let it soothe your aching muscles until your skin is all wrinkly, you know you can’t, so you scrub yourself as quickly as possible while remaining thorough, before getting out and rubbing your body dry so you can pull on the clothes Seungkwan left for you. Of course, there isn’t a bra or underwear, but the sweatpants, t-shirt, socks, and hoodie all fit comfortably enough and smell fresh and clean.

With a towel around your hair, you get Chan up and dressed before towel drying both of your hair quickly and unlocking the bathroom door to let you out into the bedroom.

As Mingyu said, someone has left snacks on the low table, a lot of snacks and various bottles and cans of drinks.

Chan gasps excitedly and rushes over to pick up a little bottle of apple juice. “Juice, Per!”

“Mm, sit down then,” you hum and take the bottle to open it as Chan sits down and plops his turtle plushie at his side in wait. As soon as you’ve handed over the open bottle, your brother starts to gulp the contents down eagerly. “Ah, Channie, slow, you’ll make yourself sick. We must be careful when we eat and drink, remember?”

“But I so thirsty, Per!”

“I know, but it’s not going anywhere. Take it steady, Squirt.”

“Slow and steady wins the race,” he quotes, and you smile softly as you watch him purposely take much smaller sips now, all because of a tortoise in an old fable.

Once he’s consumed half of the bottle, Chan puts it on the table and accepts the packet of mini cookies you’ve opened to offer and happily starts munching away with his feet contently flopping from side to side where they’re stretched out in front of him under the table.

While Chan eats the snacks you’ve set up ready for him, you go back to the bathroom to clean your clothes in the sink with the soaps, even if they’re not designed for this, but you can’t be picky about how you get your clothes clean, you just care that they are.

When Chan scrambles into the bathroom while you’re setting everything up to dry, you become concerned until you hear the knocking on the bedroom door and understand what has spooked your little brother. “It’s okay, you can wait in here,” you assure and pat his head before going to the bedroom to open the door while he does as offered and remains hiding in the bathroom.

On the other side of the bedroom door upon opening it stand Mingyu and Junhui, each with a tray of covered plates in their hands and smiles on their faces.

“Hi, Pearl!” Junhui greets. “Food’s ready!”

“Oh,” you step back to let the men in and rush over to the low table to clean up the crumbs and packets Chan has left behind.

“Here, here, I’ll take them,” Mingyu offers, plucking the rubbish from your hands after he’s put down the tray in his hands. “I need to go out for a bit, but Jun is still around, and Seungkwan is too, so you can ask for either of them until I’m back. It should only be an hour; I’ve just got to deal with some stuff in the middle wall.” You nod in understanding. Mingyu shoots you a smile before he leaves, pulling up the door, yet leaving it open slightly as Junhui is still in the room.

The chef is kneeling beside the table as he sets up all of the plates, uncovering them as he goes and causing various delicious scents to fill the room. You’re not surprised that Chan shuffles over and half hides behind your legs as he eyes the food, drawn in by the smell.

“So!” Junhui starts when he’s done arranging everything and looks up. He jerks back in surprise spotting Chan suddenly at your side, but he just smiles at him brightly, then looks up at you. “I thought I’d play it mostly safe and made some plain, yet still tasty and nutritious, foods; enough for the both of you butttt” he starts pulling out condiment bottles and jars of herbs and spices from the various pockets on his cargo pants and apron. “I brought flavours so you can adjust them as you like! I thought that’d be easier than stressing you out by asking you what you like again; that clearly wasn’t getting anywhere. So here, enjoy, eat as much or as little as you want, and you can ask Soonyoung for me if you need more.”

“Soonyoung?” You repeat confusedly.

“Yeah, the guy outside the room.” He motions to the door over his shoulder. “But be warned if you do open the door to ask for something, you will have to deal with talking to him. He hurt his ankle last week and is only off bed rest now, still not allowed to do patrols or go out so he’s sitting on a chair sulking and constantly complaining that he’s bored. But he’s got great hearing and is dumb enough to still jump around on his bad ankle so he will stop you from leaving and get hurt in the process. And then we’ll have to deal with him sulking even longer, so for our sake, please don’t try to run away or anything.”

“That would be illogical given where we are,” you point out simply.

The cook makes a noise of understanding while nodding his head slowly. “Ah, so you do know where you are and whose roof you’re under.”

“Mingyu’s tattoo gives it away, yes.”

“He’s insane, I tell you,” Junhui states, picking up a child-sized cutlery set to hand over, so you take it and sit down, pulling Chan down next to you and handing him the fork to let him pick what he wants to try. No surprise, he goes straight for the plain noodles. Junhui hands you the adult’s cutlery set, though you just hold it at the edge of the table as he talks. “It’s January and the idiot keeps going out in stupid, thin jackets that inevitably get ripped and destroyed, and I think he does it on purpose just to have an excuse to take them off and get his arms out. He’s very vain that Mingyu; he’s hot and he knows it.” He tuts.

You’re not sure what to say in response. Sure, Mingyu is very attractive, and it had struck you as very odd that he was only in a sleeveless t-shirt in winter, but he hadn’t come across as vain to you, though you’re aware that you really don’t know him at all to have a solid opinion on his vanity level. So, you just make a vague sound in response and hope it’s enough to appease Junhui.

“Well, anyway, I’ll let you eat. If you don’t like any of it, tell Soonyoung to call me and I’ll make something else; all I do around here is cook and dinner isn’t for hours, so I don’t have anything else to do. You’d actually be doing me a favour by giving me something to do other than sit playing games on my phone in the den or trying to convince one of the others to entertain me.”

“Why don’t you sit with Soonyoung, if you’re both bored?” You logically suggest.

“Because…actually, that’s a good point. I’ll get a game, do you like games? We can play monopoly…oh, no, that’s a bad idea. Cluedo? No, Soonyoung never understands those kinds of games.” He frowns in thought.

“I’d rather just focus on my brother.”

“Ah, right, right. You’re a good sister.” Junhui gets to his feet after slapping his own thighs. “I’ll be outside and if we get too loud, just come out and tell us to shut up, we both lack volume control when we get excited. Okay, bye, Pearl. Bye, little man!” Junhui skips out of your room, calling to Soonyoung about playing a game as he goes. You can’t see the other man, but you hear his excited whoop before the door shuts and blessedly closes out their conversation.

“Is it good, Channie?” You ask, brushing Chan’s floppy, almost dry hair back out of his eyes. He hums and nods in agreement as he eats. “Good.”

Only now that you’re alone with your little brother and content that he’s eating well do you pick up your cutlery and start to eat.

Although Mingyu has reappeared and left again multiple times, you and Chan are mostly alone for hours, with the man only popping in to check on you both and ask if you need anything, plus take away all the dishes with Junhui.

It’s almost midnight when there’s a knock on the door and you look over from being curled protectively around your sleeping brother. Something about the knock is different to how Mingyu knocks, it’s firmer, yet still gentle in a strange contradiction that makes your stomach flitter with anxiety.

Silently, as to not disturb Chan, you get off the bed and walk to the door to open it just as the knocking starts up again.

On the other side is a man, who although you’ve never met before, you’ve seen his picture many times in files in your father’s office to be able to recognise his dark gaze and full lips.

Choi Seungcheol, the current leader of Choi’s Centaurs as of ten years ago when his father passed through means that have never been publicly verified. Many even think that Seungcheol himself had a hand in his father’s death just so that he could take over the gang sooner.

You don’t know enough of the man to have an opinion on that matter, but what you do know is that he makes an intimidating figure as he looms over you in riding leathers with his motorbike helmet still in one gloved hand at his side, whereas the other is bare and raised in a fist from knocking on the door.

“Pearl, I assume?” He greets, raising an eyebrow slightly in question while lowering his arm to hang at his side.

You don’t know if the dark look is intentional or not, but you do know the shadows under his eyes aren’t. He looks exhausted and you can’t imagine he’s very happy about having to come to you upon returning home instead of going to bed like he no doubt yearns to.

You nod in confirmation. “Your brother is asleep?” Another nod. “Alright, step out here so we can talk without waking him.”

Silently, you step into the hall when he moves aside, before you pull the door up almost entirely shut, yet cracked open enough that you can hear if Chan needs you.

“So, what I hear is that a couple of my guys found you in the warehouse where it seems as if you’ve been sleeping with your brother?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good, you speak,” he places his helmet on the floor so that he can remove his glove and tuck it into his jacket pocket with the other before unzipping the protective jacket, showing a plain black t-shirt tucked into the waistband of his trousers. “You’re homeless?”

“Yes.”

“Any family to go to? I can’t send you back onto the streets with a kid.”

“Just like that?” You ask, looking at him puzzled. “You’re just sending us out again?”

“What do you expect me to do with you? I know you’re aware I don’t condone violence towards children, nor do I agree with leaving any kid in a position where they don’t have an adult to look after them. I’m not going to hurt your brother, and hurting you would hurt him too, so my only option is to send you off and hope you won’t try to cause me any trouble by saying shit about whatever you saw and heard at the warehouse.”

“And here.”

“What?”

“Your men brought me into your home; as far as I’m aware that’s pretty fucking unheard of.”

He nods slightly in confirmation. “This situation is unheard of, you’re right, Mingyu fucked up by bringing you into the manor when he could’ve left you in one of the empty houses in the outer wall, but I can’t blame him when he did it to make sure he knows you two will be safe and looked after. So tomorrow I’ll personally drive you to the closest family you have, so that I know you arrive safely.”

“No.”

“No?” He frowns at you in astonishment. “The fuck do you mean no? I don’t think you understand what’s going on here, sweetheart. I’m in charge and you’re under my roof, you’re alive because of my rules and you have no fucking place to say no to me.”

“I’ll say no to whoever I need to if it means protecting my brother.”

“I just said I’m not going to let anyone hurt him.”

“Sending us to family will mean him getting hurt.”

“Did you run away?” You nod in confirmation. “Because your parents hurt you?”

“I took him and ran because I knew it would only get worse for him now that… Look, I don’t give a fuck who you are or what you can do to me; I’m not letting you send my brother back there. I won’t do a thing that puts us back on their radar. So just take us back to the warehouse so I can grab the shit I had to leave behind and we can see the last of each other.”

Seungcheol stares at you consideringly for a long moment as his arms cross over his chest before he nods once in understanding and acceptance. “Alright, no family, but I’m not sending you back to the streets. There must be some kind of women’s and children’s refuge that would take you in.”

“Separately. I’m not his parent and as I’m not a kid myself, we’d get separated.”

“Then lie and say he’s your son.”

“I don’t like to lie.”

He scoffs a laugh. “You wouldn’t last a day in my world with that mindset, sweetheart.” You don’t answer and just stare at him silently, well aware of how wrong his assumption is. “Right, so not that. Well, and this is a once in a lifetime offer, but I’ll buy you a house, put it in your name, give you money to cover costs for a few months while you get on your feet, and we never cross paths again. You won’t owe me shit either; I have more money than I know what to do with anyway, I can afford to help someone in need.”

“If I use my name they will find us, Seungcheol,” you plainly state.

He blinks at you a few times dumbly before responding. “Oh, that’s my name.”

You can’t help but look at him in concern for his odd reaction. “Yes.”

“You seriously do know who I am. I didn’t even introduce myself.”

“You’re the head of the most famous gang in the country, of course I know who you are.”

“Mm, many might know me by name, not by face.”

“Mingyu told me the boss will be by to see me once he’s home; you are the only person who has knocked on the door other than him. And you said you’re in charge; I’m under your roof. It’s not hard to put two and two together,” comes your logical rationalisation, easily explaining how you didn’t fail to recognise him despite his lack of introduction.

He’s right in that most people may know his alias, yet have no idea what his first name is, even if they know his family name, or who the name belongs to if they passed him in the street without introduction.

“Huh, guess so. Just threw me hearing my name suddenly, especially as nobody actually calls me that.”

“I don’t like your alias,” you admit bluntly, and to your surprise, the man lets out a laugh. “What?”

“Nobody has ever said that to my face before. Wow, either you have the biggest balls I’ve ever seen, or you’re so sleep deprived that you’ve forgotten how to act.”

Once again, you don’t answer, just silently stare at him. You truly have no idea what category you fit under right now, if either.

“You’re an interesting one, Pearl,” he declares with amusement tilting the edge of his lips up ever so slightly. “Well, I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere with this tonight so we’re both going to go the fuck to bed and get some much-needed sleep, then we’ll talk again. And I’ll meet your brother; the guys say he’s adorable and shy, so I’m real curious about him.”

“Right,” you mutter in response, not sure what you’re expected to say right now.

“Alright, well, seeing as you’re not an idiot and know who I am and what you risk if you try to fuck me over, I won’t have anyone outside your room anymore and no-one will bother you until the morning when someone comes and gets you for breakfast.”

“Get us? Like, to join?”

“Yeah, we can talk over breakfast; I’ve got a busy day tomorrow and the sooner we sort this shit out, the better.”

“Right.”

“Go back to your brother and make sure you sleep too. You look like you’re about to pass out any second,” he says as he bends over momentarily to swoop up his helmet into his hold.

“Says you.”

Seungcheol snorts a laugh as he turns and walks off. “Definitely an interesting one.”

You watch him until he turns at the end of the hall and is out of sight before you go back into the bedroom and lock the door so that when you curl up under the covers with your brother, you feel safe enough to close your eyes and sleep in a soft bed for the first time in months.

Maybe today hasn’t been quite as unlucky as you initially thought.

When the knock comes in the morning, you’ve already been up for a few hours.

You’ve already cleaned up the bathroom and bedroom, showered for what may be the last time in a while to take advantage while Chan slept, and dressed back in your own clean clothes; though you’ve neatly folded the ones Seungkwan gave you into your backpack, hoping that he was being honest about allowing you to keep them, you could really do with the spare clothes.

Once Chan woke, you had him drink some juice, then let him splash around in the bath until the water was cold and his skin wrinkly, before drying him and dressing him in clean clothes and folding his new spares into your own backpack as his own is too full of his own spare clothes, toys, and other necessary supplies.

Chan’s playing with his toys on the bed at your side when the knock comes, so you leave him there to get up and answer the door.

“Good morning!” Mingyu greets you brightly once the door is open and you have sight of one another. “I’m glad you’re already up, breakfast is just about ready. Is your brother up too?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, great, let’s go join the others.” You nod slightly in agreement, then turn to get Chan and carry him with you as he clutches his turtle to his chest and hides in your neck.

“Does he have trouble walking?” Mingyu wonders as you follow him down the hall.

“Sometimes.”

“Ah, you just carry him all of the time, so I wondered.”

“It’s just easier, lets me know he’s safe if I’m holding him.”

“That makes sense. But he is safe here, you know. Nobody will hurt him. We all love kids in this house, in the appropriate way.”

“I don’t know you to trust those words.”

“I understand,” he assures and gives you a little smile.

Nothing more is said all the way to the kitchen where you can already hear noise before you enter. It’s not too loud, thankfully, just the general sounds of people being happy and chatting. And to your surprise, you can hear a child’s voice amongst it all.

“They’re here!” Junhui cheers as you enter the kitchen and see him cooking with another man while the large breakfast table is surrounded by a bunch of men, Seungcheol and Seungkwan included, plus a little boy who is in the middle of climbing over a brightly smiling man.

The little boy immediately looks over and grins brightly. “My new friend!” He exclaims.

“No, no, I told you, no,” Seungcheol says with a sigh. “Every child you meet isn’t your friend, Solie.”

“But he will be!” The boy insists and almost climbs up onto the table, though the man who he’s using as a willing climbing frame grabs him and moves him to put on the floor. Undeterred as if it’s a regular occurrence, the boy runs around the table to approach you and stare up at your hiding little brother in awe. “Hi! I’m Hansol, I’m almost seven! What’s your name?”

All the men look over curiously, stopping their conversations to see what happens next.

“I’m sorry, Hansol, but he doesn’t talk to anyone but me,” you say to the young boy gently.

“Oh,” Hansol frowns. “Why?”

“He only feels safe with me.”

“Oh. I don’t have a sister, but I feel safest with my daddy, so I talk his ear off, he says.” To your surprise, he points over at Seungcheol, who is watching his son with fond amusement.

In all you’ve seen and read about Choi Seungcheol over the years, you’ve never even heard a rumour that he has a child, not even a woman claiming to be carrying his child to try and get money from the filthy-rich family. There have even been rumours that the man is gay due to the lack of women seen on his arm over the years. Maybe that’s still true and Hansol isn’t biologically Seungcheol’s, maybe he’s adopted or a surrogate baby; not that it matters when you can see nothing but pure love in the man’s eyes for his son.

At least now you understand why the men had all been so insistent that Seungcheol has strict rules to protect children; as a father he likely has a better appreciation and love for the little humans. Well, a good father should, at least. Something about this man makes you think that he is a good and doting father, despite being a ruthless gang leader.

“Ah, it’s good you feel safe with him,” you decide to say and look at Hansol, who nods enthusiastically in agreement before looking at Chan again.

“Can we still be friends if he doesn’t talk and I talk a lot?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I don’t know if he can handle it, he’s sensitive to noise.”

“Oh, me too, like bangs and stuff; it makes me feel all horrible and gross and sometimes I wear my special headphones, and it makes it all quiet. Does he have special headphones too? They’re really good!”

“Ear defenders?”

“Oh, is that what they’re called?”

You nod. “Defend means to protect and they’re designed to protect your hearing and block out noises.”

“Ooooh, that’s cool! Daddy!” Hansol turns to look at his father. “My special headphones are superheroes for my ears!”

“So I heard,” Seungcheol replies with a chuckle. “Why don’t you come sit down so Pearl can get comfortable with her brother for breakfast, hm?”

“Can I sit with him?”

“I think he’d rather sit with his sister.”

The little boy deflates, whole posture slumping and his lips protruding sadly, “oh.”

“You can sit with me, Solie!” The same man Hansol had earlier been climbing on offers, making Hansol light right back up and run over to clamber up.

“No, no way,” Junhui argues sternly. “You spill enough food as it is without a child on your lap, Kwon Soonyoung.”

The man you now know to be Soonyoung, the man with the injured ankle who had been keeping guard outside of your room yesterday, pouts and crosses his arms over his chest, which Hansol copies when he’s in his own seat on his dad’s right at the head of the table. “You never let us have breakfast cuddles anymore,” Soonyoung complains in a mumble.

“Learn to eat like a grown up and then you’ll be allowed breakfast cuddles,” another man says as Mingyu leads you over to the empty two seats on Seungcheol’s left and motions for you to sit in the one closest to the boss. You sit in the offered chair while continuing to hold Chan chest to chest on your lap, and Mingyu takes the seat on your left.

“You’re younger than me!” Soonyoung exclaims.

“Alright children, at least pretend to know how to behave when we have guests,” Seungcheol chides, though he looks to be so used to the playful bickering that it doesn’t truly bother him.

“Yes, daddy,” Soonyoung agrees, then yelps when the metal chopstick Seungcheol abruptly throws through the air whacks him in the arm. “Ow!”

“I’ve told you not to call me that!”

“You do call them children,” the man at the other end of the table points out with a little, lazily amused smirk. “It’s your own fault, daddy.”

“Yeah, daddy,” multiple of the men chime in sync, then start to cackle when Seungcheol sighs heavily.

Though the man decides to ignore them all and turns his attention to you instead. “So, how’d you two sleep?”

“Good,” you reply, eyes darting around as everyone starts to serve themselves now that Junhui and the man who was cooking with him are seated, a sign that it’s time to eat. You’re shocked that they don’t wait for Seungcheol and Hansol to have their servings first, as the lead family. Though you can see Soonyoung making sure that the child has food on his plate before he gets his own share.

“What do you want to eat? I’ll grab it for you,” Mingyu offers. “Does he eat toast?” You nod in confirmation, so Mingyu grabs a couple of slices of toast. “With butter?” You nod again and he gets to work buttering the toast.

“Will you turn around?” You request Chan softly once you’ve leaned down to talk to him. He shakes his head. “Just halfway, please, Squirt. You can face the wall, but you need to be able to reach your food.”

Chan tenses for a second as he squeezes his turtle tight to his chest, before he relaxes and you know it means he’s ready, so you adjust him until his back is to Mingyu. Although Chan is technically facing Seungcheol now, the wall is more directly in front of him, and he stares at it.

“Anything else on it? We don’t have peanut butter, Hansol’s allergic, but we have probably almost anything else,” Mingyu says once the toast is buttered and on the plate that is sitting in front of you on the table.

“Do you want anything on your toast, Squirt?” You ask. Chan glances over to the plate and instead of verbally answering, he picks up a piece of the warm toast to start eating contently, feet starting to bounce a little as he chews.

“Is his name Squirt?” Hansol speaks up from directly opposite you, causing you to look over and see that he’s already got crumbs around his mouth from his own toast, though his is slathered in jam and he also has a single sausage on his plate.

“It’s a nickname,” you answer.

“Oh, why?”

“Have you seen Finding Nemo?”

“Yeah!” Hansol lights up. “I wanna bounce on the jellyfish, boing, boing!” He bounces in his seat.

“Ah, you shouldn’t bounce when you eat,” you say automatically, worried about the boy choking. “It’s a hazard to move in such a way while you eat.”

Hansol falls still to look at you with intrigue. “What’s hazard mean?”

“Dangerous. A hazard is something that’s dangerous.”

“Oh. So, no bouncing when eating?” You hum and nod in approval. “Okay.”

“What?” Seungcheol baulks in disbelief. “I’ve been telling you to sit still while you eat since you could sit up and you listen to someone you just met?”

“You never told me it’s dangerous, daddy. I don’t want to get hurt, you know.”

“I must’ve told you it’s dangerous,” Seungcheol mutters.

“Nope! You tell me I make a mess.”

“Oh…well, okay, that’s my fault then, I should’ve put the danger warnings first.”

“You should,” Hansol agrees simply, and for the first time in over 24 hours, you almost laugh yet manage to hold it back and instead just smile amusedly. “Will Squirt play with me after breakfast?”

“I thought we’re playing after breakfast,” Seungkwan pouts from Mingyu’s left.

“I always play with you Uncle Kwannie, I need new friends who aren’t old.”

“Wow, Hansol, wow,” Seungkwan deadpans. “You say such lovely things.”

“I am a lovely boy,” Hansol agrees, entirely missing the sarcasm in the man’s voice, making Mingyu giggle as Seungkwan pouts to stop himself from also laughing. “Does Squirt like climbing? I want to play outside after breakfast, and I can show my climbing frame, and we can play fishies too! I bet he’ll like that if he likes Nemo. Does he like playing fishies?”

“I don’t think he’s ever played it,” you answer honestly.

“We just pretend we’re fishies living in the sea, it’s pretty easy to play.” Hansol shrugs.

“Just eat your breakfast, Sol,” Seungcheol says, tapping the edge of Hansol’s plate.

“I am eating, daddy, you’re not and she’s not. We’re all eating but you two.”

“Okay, well focus on your food while we talk about adult stuff, okay?”

“Ugh, boring,” Hansol huffs and turns to start talking to Soonyoung, who happily listens to the little boy as they both eat with crumbs around their mouths and wide eyes on one another.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Seungcheol starts as he finally moves to put food on his own plate, though pauses when he realises that only Chan’s second piece of toast is on the plate in front of you. “You can help yourself; it’s all free game.”

“I’m okay, thank you,” you reply.

“Eat, you need energy to look after your brother,” he declares firmly and as much as you want to argue, he’s got you by bringing Chan into it; you’re pretty sure he said that on purpose. “I’m going to put food on your plate, and you don’t have to eat it all, but eat something, okay?” He doesn’t wait for your agreement before he gets up onto his feet to lean over the table further and serve a little of most of the dishes onto your plate before he serves himself a much heartier portion of everything.

For a few minutes, you eat quietly, feeding Chan from your own cutlery too so that he’s not just eating toast, even if he seems perfectly happy slowly chewing on it while staring off, though he opens his mouth to accept whatever you choose to feed him without complaint.

“Can I ask something?” Seungcheol’s voice makes you look away from Chan and to the man on your right. There’s something in his eyes you can’t place as he watches Chan curiously. “Is he autistic?” Your movements immediately halt and Seungcheol notices, snapping his full attention to your carefully blank expression. “He is, isn’t he?”

“My brother’s business is not yours,” you state firmly.

“I’m not trying to step on your toes or anything, I just see a lot of Hansol in him,” he explains with a shrug. “He’s got autism and ADHD, so I get it, we all get it, if he is autistic. It’s not a dirty word in this house and we all make accommodations where necessary to make sure my son doesn’t ever feel other, you know? He’s just another kid with some differences as far as he’s concerned.”

For a long moment, you just stare at Seungcheol in utter shock at his words. Not necessarily that Hansol has autism and ADHD because that doesn’t exactly surprise you despite having just met the kid, sometimes you just know these things, but what is a surprise is the ease in which Seungcheol says it all and the fact that you truly believe him; that they all accept and love Hansol and do what they can to support him.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted for Chan.

“Oh,” you breathe out, and with that breath, it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. “It’s why I took him away. He got diagnosed in summer, and suddenly…can we stay?” You suddenly request, shocking the man visibly; his eyes go wide, and he straightens up from his casual slouch as he leans on his elbows on the table. “I will work for you; I’ll do whatever you need me to, just please allow my brother to grow up somewhere stable and with love. I’m not asking you to love him in any way, or for any of you to look after him; but for him to see another child like him receiving such love, I hope he’ll know there’s more than just one person on the side of kids like him.”

Seungcheol remains quiet for a second before he lets out a little breath. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I was actually going to suggest it myself, that you stay, because I really don’t know what else to do. You have nowhere to go, and I had a feeling he’s autistic, so I know it’s even harder for you and I truly don’t want to risk your family finding you, especially now I know why they think it’s acceptable to be cruel to an innocent child. I was just surprised you asked.”

“For his sake I’ll do anything.”

“Can you clean?”

“What?”

“If you stay, you need to work and there’s always stuff to clean in a house this size.”

“Is this because I’m a woman?” You deadpan and suddenly, the men closest to you turn quiet, creating a domino effect of silence along the table as they all turn to look at their flustered leader. “Is that the only job you could think of for a woman to be of use in your gang, Seungcheol?”

“Oooh,” Soonyoung jeers under his breath amusedly.

“What? No!” Seungcheol sputters. “I’m not sexist! I know women have plenty of uses besides cleaning!”

“Then why are there no women other than me in this house? I saw perhaps five on the entire drive through the estate. Those don’t seem like numbers of an equal opportunist.”

“I like her,” one of the men whispers to another, however as no-one else is talking, it’s loud and clear to you all and he doesn’t seem to care at all.

“What’s sexist?” Hansol curiously asks.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not sexist,” Seungcheol reiterates, dismissing Hansol’s question with a wave of his hand, making his son pout sadly at not being answered and catching your attention, which in turn, makes Seungcheol look at his son seeing your gaze focused on the boy, and the man notices Hansol’s frown. “Oh, Solie, I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s just not something a six-year-old needs to worry about.”

“I think if he asks, he’s curious enough to deserve an answer,” you point out. “Wouldn’t it be better to give him the knowledge earlier, so he grows up with it, than risk it not settling properly in his mind and being easy to pull apart when he’s older?”

“Oh, I really like her,” the same whispered voice as last time declares.

Seungcheol sighs then shuffles to face Hansol better. “Okay, Pearl’s right, I should give you an actual answer when you ask about things like this. Sexism is when someone thinks their sex or gender is above another. Like, for example, some idiot men think women belong in the kitchen and have no use other than staying at home to raise kids and look after the house. That’s men being sexist towards women.”

“Oh, like you only giving Pearl a cleaning job,” Hansol says, making Seungcheol wince, while some of the men start to snicker. “That’s really bad, daddy, give her a better job.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a cleaner, all jobs have worth. If nobody cleans, things will be dirty so it’s a perfectly valid job, Hansol.”

“But you’re being sexist so that makes it bad, right?”

“Okay, it would be if that was what I was doing, but I only said cleaner because I have no idea what Pearl’s skills are, and you don’t need qualifications or past job experience to clean.”

“Then ask her. If you don’t know what she’s good at, ask her,” Hansol reasons logically.

“How does it feel when a six-year-old has more logic and common sense than you, Coupsie?” The man at the other end of the table asks with an amused grin, earning an unimpressed expression from Seungcheol as he straightens up and turns towards you.

Seungcheol looks at you with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry for not asking you, that wasn’t right. We’ll have an interview when I’m back later and discuss what your place here will be, does that sound okay to you, Pearl?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you agree simply. He relaxes a little before motioning for everyone to get back to their food, and the conversation is dropped there.

Just as he had said, after breakfast, Hansol enthusiastically leads you and Chan outside once you’re all three of you are in your shoes and coats, to go to the play area that would put a public child’s play park to shame.

There’s a large climbing frame, multiple types of swings, slides of varying heights and styles, trampolines imbedded in the rubber tarmac, spinning seats and roundabouts, seesaws and a huge racetrack painted onto the ground and weaving through all the various apparatus. Plus, there’s even a shelter with go carts, bikes, wagons, and even more toys.

And that’s just this section of the garden. A little further away you can see a large, covered section of ground, which you’d assume is an in-ground pool if there were any sign of ladders or tiles around it instead of more rubber tarmac. You have no idea what it is, but you know it’s another activity for Hansol.

It really is clear that Seungcheol will go above and beyond for the sake of his son.

“What shall we play first, Squirt?” Hansol asks, turning to look at Chan, who is entirely focused on the strange sensation of slightly springy ground under him as he bounces on his toes curiously. “It’s cool, right?! It’s just like in real play parks! Uncle Jihoon says it’s safety playground flooring; it’s got rubber in it so when we fall it isn’t as hard as normal ground and won’t hurt so much or break us as easily.”

Of course, Chan doesn’t respond in any way and honestly, you’re not even sure he’s heard a word that Hansol has said to him, you don’t know if Chan even realises that he’s being spoken to despite the older boy using the nickname so smoothly it’s like he’s always used it.

“Do you like bouncing?” Hansol asks, having no issue with the lack of response and instead rushes over to the trampolines to jump onto. “Look! Look, Squirt! We can touch the clouds!”

“Hey,” you say as you crouch down so you can get Chan’s attention. He glances at you, then looks up when he sees you looking directly at him, signalling that you want his attention. “Hansol wants to play with you, don’t you think that’d be fun? You can make a friend.” You motion over to where Hansol is still happily bouncing away, causing Chan to look over. He pulls an uncertain face. “Want to try?” You offer your hand and to your joy, Chan takes it, silently agreeing to give the trampoline a go. It’s a huge step in Chan making his first friend.

Together, you walk over to the trampolines and Hansol lights up noticing you nearing. He bounces closer and offers his hand to Chan. “I’ll bounce with you, it’s really fun, Squirt!”

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” you assure your brother and gently remove your hand from his. He looks at you with rounded eyes of hesitation, yet when you smile and nod reassuringly, he turns and tentatively takes Hansol’s hand.

Your heart swells with joy seeing Chan accept the older boy enough to timidly follow him onto the trampoline, even if he makes slightly distressed sounds as the material bends under his weight.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Squirt,” Hansol soothes in a gentle tone and holds both of Chan’s hands securely so they’re facing one another, though Chan is staring alarmed down at the ground bending beneath their feet. “It’s a trampoline, it’s made to bounce. We can do it gently.”

So, so, so carefully, Hansol starts to bounce. His feet don’t even leave the trampoline and he’s more just bending his legs a little and using the movement to bob them slightly. Chan’s distressed sounds grow, but Hansol makes more soothing noises and holds his hands tighter. He keeps talking to Chan, telling him that it’s okay and “Solie is here, Squirt” and slowly, Chan calms until he’s just making little squeaky types of sounds every handful of seconds.

Once his noises stop being fearful and turn curious, Hansol encourages Chan to try bouncing too. With Hansol’s gentle support, Chan does start to bounce and the utter joy that lights up his face when he lifts his head to look at you with sparkling eyes makes you feel like you could break at any second. You didn’t know he could look so happy with someone else.

Right here, you decide that no matter what Seungcheol asks you to do, you’ll do it. So long as Chan gets to remain here looking so genuinely happy like this, you’ll do anything.

For the first time in months, Chan isn’t right by your side. He’s not far and you can hear Hansol’s voice from the playroom opposite, along with Seungkwan’s, who you have learned is Hansol’s nanny, even if Hansol is often not with the man as the child is both very self-sufficient but also very sneaky at escaping Seungkwan to go play with other people when he gets bored.

It’s probably half of the reason Seungcheol’s home office is right opposite Hansol’s playroom, so Seungcheol can be near if his son wants him when he gets fed up with his nanny.

“Hansol’s always wanted a little brother,” Seungcheol randomly states when you’re both sitting on the leather seating to one side of his office. He’s slouched on the loveseat and you’re sitting in the armchair with a view of the open door, even if you can’t see through to the open door of the playroom. This at least makes you feel better as you’re not turning your back on Chan.

You look at Seungcheol with a slightly raised, questioning eyebrow at his words.

“Just, he’s good with your brother, right?” You nod in confirmation because for all the energy Hansol has in his slight body, he’s so gentle with Chan, so caring, and you can entirely understand what Seungcheol is saying. Hansol is treating Chan like the little brother he’s always wanted. “He’s asked for a little brother for the past two Christmases.” He chuckles and forces himself to sit upright and lean over to pour himself a glass of water from the carafe on the low table in the centre of the seating.

You remain quiet and look back at the door to listen to Hansol’s and Seungkwan’s voices as they play. You can’t hear Chan, and you’re not surprised about it, but it does make you worry that you can’t tell if he’s enjoying the games when he’s so used to either playing alone or with you, even if you’re never as imaginative as either Hansol or Seungkwan.

“You don’t have to worry, Seungkwan knows first aid if they do get hurt,” Seungcheol promises.

“I’m not worried about injury, I’m worried that my brother will suffer in silence, unable to speak up for himself and without me there to talk for him.”

“I don’t mean to overstep or sound like a dick, but have you considered that that doesn’t help?” You look at him with furrowed brows. Seungcheol immediately holds up his hands in defence. “I’m just saying that if you always talk for him, he’s not going to learn to talk for himself.”

“While I agree that can be the case in many circumstances, this is not it. My brother is capable of talking when he feels safe and comfortable with a person, and I’m the only person he has. Even before his diagnosis he didn’t speak to most people because he had delayed speech, and the assholes never gave him the time and understanding to get out what he needed. He’s improved a lot more with just me to talk to these past months than beforehand. So no, I am not making a problem here.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol accepts obligingly. “I believe you, and I apologise for implying that you’re holding him back. Some people just don’t realise they are. They think they’re helping but they’re not. We’ve gotta let our kids figure shit out for themselves sometimes.”

“I know, but some kids and people just aren’t capable of figuring certain things out for themselves, so we have to help them lest they suffer in silence their entire lives.”

“Yeah, I think we know that very well. Raising a kid with disabilities is hard, but I’d never change him.”

“No, I wouldn’t either.”

The two of you share a moment of pure understanding that only breaks when you smile slightly and Seungcheol suddenly looks away while clearing his throat before swallowing down the rest of his water with flushed cheeks.

You can’t help but wonder if he’s ill to suddenly get visibly hot like that. You hope that if he is ill, it’s not contagious; you don’t think you can handle even a common cold right now with the poor condition of your body.

“So,” he says as he puts his glass down on the table perhaps a little too quickly, judging by the loud thunk it makes, which makes him wince. He takes a second to steady the glass then leans back and lays one arm on the back of the couch while he looks at you with even pinker cheeks.

“Are you ill?” You blurt.

“What?” He frowns at you bewilderedly. “No, why? Do I look like shit?” He puts his free hand to his cheek worriedly.

“You’re pink.”

“Oh,” he laughs awkwardly and abruptly gets up to cross the room and open the window. “J-just hot!”

“It’s winter.”

“I’ve just got back from a physically strenuous job,” he explains, and turns so his back is to the open window and his ass is leaning against the windowsill. “Talking of jobs, let’s decide what you can do for me. To work for me, I mean.”

“I don’t know what else that could mean other than work,” you point out and he lets out another strange, awkward laugh. “Are you high?”

“No,” he frowns suddenly, expression abruptly changing. “I don’t do drugs.”

“It would explain your odd behaviour. Either you’re ill, or high.”

“Neither! I’m fine, I’m fine,” he waves his hands dismissively before crossing his arms to tuck his hands under his biceps against his ribs. “So, have you had a job before? I assume so based on the fact you’ve only been homeless for the past months since running away, right? You had a house before then?”

“Family home.”

“Ah, so you didn’t pay rent and stuff.”

“No, I paid rent, it just wasn’t my house.”

“Wait, your parents made you pay rent to live in the family home?” He baulks in disgust.

“Father, my mother died years ago. And my stepmother; my brother’s mother if you want to get specific.”

“Oh, you’re half siblings? I assumed full, you seem very close.”

“As I said, I’m the only person who’s bothered to give him understanding.”

“He’s lucky to have you.”

“Like Hansol is lucky to have you.”

“In some ways, but others, not so much.” He motions around vaguely. “You obviously know what I do, what he’s surrounded by even if he doesn’t realise it yet. At least, I hope he doesn’t; I’m trying to shield him from all that fucked up shit, but I know it’s impossible considering his babysitters are often armed.”

“Is Seungkwan?”

“No, no, he can barely fire a gun. He was just a down-on-his-luck college kid, Hansol befriended him one day and then asked me to make Kwan his babysitter so he could buy new shoes.” He huffs a little laugh. “I have no idea how I raised a kid like that, but I’m glad.”

“It’s probably a lot that’s just him, his soul, if you believe in that.”

“Mm, yeah, probably. Anyway, back to you, you worked?” You nod. “What did you do?”

“Uhm, it’s kind of hard to pinpoint, I did a lot of stuff.” You bite your lip nervously and glance over at the open door before getting up to approach Seungcheol, who shuffles to straighten up. You stop out of arm's reach and lace your fingers together in front of you while staring at his shoulder to not make eye contact. “There is something you should know, and you won’t like it, but you know why I left, and I will always put my brother over anything.”

“What is it?” He asks, voice a little firm, no-nonsense, having sensed that this is serious.

“Who our father is. Who I worked for.”

“You’re a fucking gangster too, aren’t you?” He groans and puts his face in his hands. “I swear if you’re from one of those fucking pissy little gangs always causing me grief, I’m going to be pissed and you’re out on your ass; I’ll keep your brother, and I promise he’ll always be safe with me, but you’re out.”

“I wouldn’t say a pissy little gang,” you reply and glance up at him to see him peering at you in wait over the top of his fingers. “Vultures.”

In the blink of an eye, Seungcheol is directly in front of you and holding your jaw to make you look in his burning gaze. “Say that again, sweetheart. Who did you just say you’re associated with?”

“I left.”

“You’re his fucking child.”

“Did you know he has a child?”

Seungcheol’s anger ebbs a little as he considers your words. “No,” he admits in murmured realisation and slowly loosens his grasp before his fingers slip away from your skin and he takes a half step back. “Why didn’t I know about you? You’re not a kid, you’re what, late twenties?”

“Thirty.”

“Oh, we’re the same age,” he comments and eyes you carefully before stepping back again and crossing his arms over his chest. “I would’ve heard if The Vulture has a fucking thirty-year-old daughter.”

“Not if he never wanted anyone to know.”

“Hiding his golden child to keep her safe, that what you’re going for?”

“No, the opposite. He hid me for my protection when I was little, like I assume you’re doing with Hansol, but then it turned to shame and only the immediate circle knows I’m his daughter, everyone else thinks I’m just another member.”

“Why shame?”

“Is it relevant?”

“Maybe. What did you do?”

“Just exist.”

“Is he sexist?”

You huff a laugh at the reminder of the conversation from breakfast. Seungcheol’s lips twitch up into the start of a smile. “Yes, actually, but that’s not it.”

“Then what?”

You consider your options now; you could lie, but that never sits right with you, you could tell him it’s none of his business and hope he simply accepts that, but you’re not positive he will, not when the safety of his family and integrity of his centuries old gang is on the line.

Which leaves you with telling the truth and hoping that his heart doesn’t bend only for children. “I took my brother away because I know how cruel our father can get; I know what the next steps would be to try and ‘fix’ him because he did the same to me when I was a child.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol murmurs. “You’re autistic too?”

“He blamed my mother, turns out that asshole is the common denominator.”

“I see.” He moves to close the window then leans against the windowsill again as he looks at you thoughtfully. “I won’t lie, this has thrown me a little. I don’t know how to deal with autistic adults, just Hansol.”

“You don’t have to deal with me,” you scoff.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just mean like, what accommodations and stuff to make. How to support you and everything. We’ll have to have a real sit down and talk it out when I have time, and I’ll do research too because obviously I only looked up how autism affects little boys, not women.”

“Research?” He nods. “You don’t have to do that, I’ve had my whole life to figure out how to handle this myself, I don’t need accommodations.”

“Pearl,” he says firmly. “You were raised in a home I can’t believe you ever felt wanted or loved in, based on what you’ve said and what I know of how The Vulture and his gang works. I’m amazed you turned out so understanding and gentle, honestly. But the point is, that environment is not the place someone with autism or other things like that can learn to be true to themself. But that’s going to change, okay? You can be yourself here, you’re safe and no-one will be cruel to you for stimming or needing a break or whatever else you may need, okay?”

It sounds far too good to be true; you’ve never heard those words before, never had anyone tell you that you can just be you without risking getting hit with whatever is to hand. Honestly, at this point, you don’t even know if you know how to be yourself, you’ve been masking for so long.

Instead of trying to put all your thoughts into words you know won’t come out correctly with how jumbled your mind is, you just stare at Seungcheol.

“Alright, let’s circle back to that another day and for now, tell me what you did as a Vulture.”

“Various things.”

“Like what? Finances, tech, streets, driving, meetings, what?” You nod. “What?”

“All of it. I did something in all of it depending on what was needed of me.”

“You didn’t have a speciality?”

“Well…I was often bait, if that’s what you mean.”

“Bait?” He mutters, expression tightening. “What does that mean, Pearl?”

“There weren’t many women other than the whores and dad didn’t trust them to not betray him, so he’d send me to get attention of the men they wanted and take them to a secondary location.”

“Your father used you as sex bait?”

“I guess you could call it that.”

“I knew he was fucked up but that’s something else,” he hisses and glares at nothing in particular. “How much do you know about how he works, how the gang is run?”

“Everything.” Seungcheol’s head snaps up to look at you with wide eyes. “I guess when you abuse someone and they still stay, you assume they’re loyal, or at least too scared to be a threat.”

“Are you loyal?”

“No.”

“Are you too scared to be a threat?”

“Never.”

Seungcheol’s mouth turns up into a smirk. “Then I know exactly what your job is, sweetheart; you’re going to help me tear apart the Vultures and dance on their graves.”

“I don’t know how to dance.”

Seungcheol chokes on a laugh. “It’s not literal, it’s a saying.”

“Oh. Why is that a saying? Why would you dance on someone’s grave?”

“Because you’re happy that they’re dead, a celebration.”

“Oh…I guess I should learn to dance.”

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