#mafia!svt

[sailorsoons]

Baby (k.sy)

Pairing: Soongyoung x f. reader

Summary: Soonyoung had been in your life for as long as you can remember. You haven’t spoken since your wedding to someone who isn’t him, but when you uncover your husband’s plans to turn against your family, you don’t know who else to call.  

Word Count: 29,988

Genre: Mafiaverse, Cyberpunk, Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers

Type: Smut, Heavy Angst

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Full warnings available under the cut.

A/N: This fic was posted on my original blog which has been deleted. I am now reposting it. I hope it does half as well as it did when I originally posted this story - thank you to everyone who left amazing feedback the first time. It genuinely made me so happy and I am so sorry that it got sent to the moon where I can no longer read it.

A/N 2:  Thank you @daechwitatamic and @eoieopda for beta-reading this fic.

Main Masterlist | The Syndicates Collection | Ask | Playlist | Read Next

Warnings: Graphic violence generally associated with mafia behavior, mentions of murder and blood, morally grey characters, themes of codependency (a little bit), a bit of a toxic relationship with Soonyoung and reader at times (they like to make each other jealous), bar fights, women being very petty, recreational drinking and drug use, heavy angst, depictions of death (funerals for parents), fight scene that ends in death in a domestic situation, difficult relationships with parents, reader and her husband have a terrible relationship and hate each other, depictions of blood and stabbing in one scene (it is the most graphic scene in the whole fic but kept short), reader agonizes over decisions she's made and struggles mentally with a lot of it, depiction of a full blown anxiety attack, sexually explicit content including fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, crying during sex, a lot of making out and biting, multiple orgasms... sorry this is so long, I want to over-warn for everything happening here so if I have missed something you think needs to be warned, please tell me!

Kwon Soonyoung is crying the first time you meet him. It’s a loud, warbling cry that you’re not used to, and you flinch at the pitch as you hide behind your mother. Soonyoung and his mother are standing in the grand foyer of your home, his fists twisted in her tweed skirt as he begs her not to leave him. 

His mother sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. You’ve seen her around before on the arm of her husband at your family dinner parties and for afternoon tea with your mom. This is the first time you’ve seen Soonyoung, though, and you’re unimpressed as his shrieking only gets louder when she crouches down to look him in the eye fondly, brushing the tears from his face. 

You don’t know a lot of other kids, but the noisiness of him startles you. Unsettles you. Sensing your unease, your mother reaches to pull you from behind her, giving you a single look that you know means please behave. You straighten immediately, turning to watch the sniffling boy as he calms down. 

Soonyoung is round-cheeked, his dark eyes swollen and face reddened from working himself up. His mother murmurs something to him and he nods, wiping the snot from his face with the back of his hand.

Seungcheol must notice the crying has stopped. He appears from the kitchen, giving Soonyoung an unimpressed once over as he strides toward you and your mother. She clucks her tongue at the cheek of her eleven year old, giving him a hard look. 

“Seungcheol, don’t be rude,” she admonishes. “Greet our guests properly.” 

Your older brother glances at you and you lift a shoulder. He’s going to lead the family one day, it’s important for him to show manners. You know this even at a young age - have always known what his place is among your family, what your place is. 

Cheol is in line to become the Tower of the Choi Syndicate, an empire that you cannot fathom at your age but you know is important. You are its insurance, a second heir if something happens to the first and a bargaining chip for future partnerships. A potential logician, if you’re good enough. 

Turning to Soonyoung and his mother, Seungcheol bows politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Soonyoung. Are you here to play video games?” 

Soonyoung perks up at that, looking at his mom, eyes going round. She grins and nods her head, pulling her hands from where they rest on his shoulders. “He is,” she agrees. “We thought it might be good for you to become friends.” Her gaze drifts to you. “All three of you.” 

That makes you frown. You don’t really like playing video games. Seungcheol never lets you win and forces you to play for hours in exchange for him letting you borrow his AetherLink at night to scroll the internet. You’re not allowed to have one yet, even though you’re only four years younger and all of your other friends have them to enter virtual chat rooms and play online games.  

“Do I have to?” you ask your mom, looking up at her. 

“Yes,” she says firmly, gently nudging you by the shoulder toward where your brother is not so patiently waiting to escort you to the gaming room. “Go.” 

“Why don’t you want to play?” Soonyoung asks, pouting a little.

“I’m not any good.”

“That’s okay. I’ll let you beat me.” 

Seungcheol moans. “Ugh, don’t let her win. Come on. I got the new Grid Fighters game on the Reality Rift console!” 

“No way!” 

Seungcheol grins and shoots off toward the gaming room, Soonyoung hot on his heels. You hesitate for a moment, staring after them with indignation. Soonyoung stops at the doorway, turning to you. His face is still ruddy from crying, but he’s suddenly smiling, cheeks round and smooth.

“Come on,” he whispers. “I’ll let you win, I promise.” 

“Holy fuck, can you let me win for once?” Soonyoung groans, rolling over on the mat. He’s dripping in sweat, wiping it away from his brow as he stands with effort. 

Grinning, you skip away from him, reaching for your water bottle. Music pounds through the speakers of the training room. Overhead, the blue neon casts an eerie glow over the two of you. Seungcheol ignores you both in favor of using the weight machines in the far corner of the room. 

On the far wall, your health and fitness data is displayed, each one of your bodies outlined and flashing as new data comes in. Right now, you’re in the red zone, heart pounding hard from your bout with Soonyoung, who is in the orange zone. 

Which confirms your suspicion that he’s not trying as hard as he could be. 

“Maybe if you weren’t afraid to actually hit me,” you offer. The water helps cool you down as you eye Soonyoung. Even at fourteen, he’s started to fill out his form more, arms corded as he hones himself into a weapon. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

Seungcheol scoffs from across the room. Maybe he wasn’t totally ignoring the two of you. He drops his cool-older-kid act to turn and grumble, “He’d put you on your ass, Baby. Lucky for you, he always lets you win.” 

The nickname makes you bristle. You hate when people point out that you’re the baby of the family, like you’re something less than or incapable of keeping pace. You especially hate it when Seungcheol uses it to put you in your place, reminding you that one day your shithead older brother is going to be leading the family business. 

The family business is the reason you spar with them at all. Occasionally Vernon joins, though those days are as unpredictable as his appearances. Usually when he’s over at your house, it’s never a good thing. His arrivals are always bracketed with the sound of his father’s manic yelling and his mother’s frantic begging, followed closely by slammed doors and your father’s calming voice. 

Today it’s just the three of you, though. Soonyoung comes over and sits on the mat by your feet, holding a hand up to you. You pass him your water bottle, rolling your eyes at him even though it doesn’t really bother you. 

Nothing Soonyoung does really bothers you. Since that first day he showed up at your house sobbing because his mother was leaving him for the day, he’s grown on you. More than grown on you, in fact. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t noticed your lingering gazes and the way he flusters you when he gets too close, and you hope to keep it that way. 

“I don’t want to hit you,” Soonyoung offers gently, voice low over the metal clang of Seuncheol’s weights. “And it’s not ‘cause I don’t think you can’t take it,” he adds with a grin, bumping his shoulder against your leg. “I just don’t like the idea of you getting hurt.” 

“Everyone treats me like a baby.” 

“You are. But it’s not a bad thing. For example, you say jump and everyone says how high. Even my dad.” 

That makes you smirk a little. You look at the floor, letting his words wash over you. They do ring true - there’s no one in the Syndicate who would deny you anything, and though you’re utterly terrified of Soonyoung’s dad, he would do anything for you. In a way, it was the Kwon family’s divine purpose to be by the side of the Chois. 

“What about you?” you ask. 

“What about me?” 

“Jump.”

Soonyoung grins and sets the water bottle down, getting up to his feet at your command. “How high, Baby?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t shed a tear on the day of his parents’ funeral. He’s a far cry from the little boy who showed up at your house to play video games and become friends. 

Instead, he sits in silence, eyes raging - always raging, now. You don’t think the fury stops, his gaze burning the entire ceremony. His grip on your hand is like iron, and after a while, your arm tingles with pins and needles. You say nothing, willing to endure. Eventually, your arm goes numb entirely, and he keeps holding your hand. 

Afterward, Soonyoung says nothing. You do the talking for him, accepting the hand shakes and bows on his behalf when he doesn’t reach out to accept them, thanking those who have come to offer him condolences and respect when he doesn’t speak.

His grip on you is steadfast. Iron and fire. Even when your father drops his gaze down with a look of disapproval, Soonyoung doesn’t let go and you don’t ask him to. If there’s any day that you can break decorum and tradition, it’s certainly now in the wake of Soonyoung’s loss. 

They don’t need to know you’d let him hold you anyway.  

The boy who existed before the murder of his parents is dead. You knew it before the funeral. But when the last guest finally leaves the Choi Estate and Soonyoung doesn’t shed a tear, you realize it isn’t just his parents that you’ve buried. 

The sweet, gentle boy who had cried those tears for fear of his mother leaving him has died too. And you don’t think you’ll ever see him again. 

-

“You want me to do what?” Soonyoung asks, pulling you into his room and looking out the cracked door to make sure no one else is around. “Where is your brother?” 

“I have no idea.” 

“You can’t just- ” Soonyoung fumbles for words as he shuts the door and takes a few steps past you into his room proper. It’s dark, safe for the glow of his AetherLink glowing with a paused video game. “Did he see you follow me up here?” 

“Why are you being weird? I’m in here all the time. You live here.” 

“I’m being weird? You just asked me to kiss you. Neither your brother nor your dad want you in my room in the middle of the night.” 

You frown. “Since when? Look, I’m sixteen and I’ve never been kissed, and Lin just lost her virginity to Jeonghan. What happened to when I say jump you say how high?”

“Oh don’t start with me. Who cares if Lin is giving it up to Jeonghan. She blew Wonwoo like two weeks ago. It’s not a competition.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, caving in on yourself a little. Maybe it was a stupid idea to ask Soonyoung after all. But you can’t get over the way all of the other girls were clinging to Lin’s every word as she spilled the details of sleeping with Jeonghan. Everyone else in your friends group had at least made out with boys - you had nothing. 

Being the daughter of the leader of the Choi Syndicate has its benefits. Being accessible to do things like kissing boys and going out with your friends to new cool clubs like Echo Space and Hyper Vibe were not one of them. Getting any of the boys your age to even look you in the eye was impossible, the fear of catching the wrath of Seungcheol and your father looming over them like the Sword of Damocles. 

Soonyoung is Soonyoung, though. Your father has brought him into the fold like one of his own, keeping his oath to Soonyoung’s parents to always watch over him and protect him. You’re old enough now to understand that the bonds between higher members of the Syndicate are bonds of faith and blood, of family and something more. 

If anyone shouldn’t be afraid to kiss you, it’s Soonyoung. He lives down the hall from you, and he’s best friends with your brother. It wouldn’t be that weird. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you lay awake in your bed at night while you stared at the ceiling, fingers trailing your lips. 

Now, you’re not so sure. The way Soonyoung recoils makes you realize you hadn’t thought of the single most important thing before marching in here and asking him to be your first kiss: maybe Soonyoung didn’t want to kiss you. 

It hadn’t even crossed your mind - one of the many downsides to getting mostly everything you wanted. You’re so infrequently told no that in the light of rejection, you don’t know what to do, recoiling like you’ve been mortally wounded. 

Nodding your head, you turn away from Soonyoung, throat tightening as the new wave of emotions threatens to spill over. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” 

“Baby,” he sighs. You ignore him, bolting for the door. Soonyoung is fast, though. He snatches your arm and drags you back toward him, though you turn your face away from him to hide the evidence of oncoming tears. “Don’t be like that.” 

“I’m not being like anything. It was a stupid favor to ask.” 

“Would you look at me?”

“No.”

He sighs heavily. “Why are you being so difficult?”

Trying to wrench your arm from his hold is useless. He’s not hurting you, but the grip on your bicep is firm. “Well if I’m so difficult then let me go.”

“Baby.” The frustration in his voice is evident. You ignore the way your nickname rolls off his tongue, the way he’s the only person you don’t absolutely hate the name from. 

“Just let me go!” 

“No. Why do you want me to kiss you?”

The question is like nails against chalkboard now, your embarrassment peaking. “Forget I even asked, just let me go!” 

“Fuck - are you crying?”

“No.”

“Baby, look at me.”

Too afraid that the wavering in your voice will give you away, you shake your head, refusing to turn and face him. With a growl, he gives a sharp tug on your arm, spinning you toward him. You let out a noise of protest, ready to lash out at him again when you feel his mouth on yours. 

Startled, you don’t do anything at first. Soonyoung’s grip is still on your bicep, firm and steadfast. Your eyes blink for a second before they flutter closed, unsure exactly what to do beyond lean into him a little, pressing your lips firmer to his. 

It’s somehow exactly what you expected and totally unexpected at the same time. Soonyoung’s mouth is softer than you were ready for, slotted gently against yours. He’s warm and smells like vanilla and sandalwood, a scent you’ve grown familiar with. Your thoughts peter out, enjoying the way he holds you to him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. 

When Soonyoung pulls away, you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, your breath shaky. He doesn’t pull back very far, looking down at you with a dark gaze. This close, you can see the real Soonyoung. His expression is soft, eyes sparkling in the blue light of his room. He looks so young suddenly, all of the rage and wrath that lurks under the surface of the calm mask he wears gone for just a moment. 

“You have pretty eyes,” you whisper. His mouth twitches at the corner, an almost smile. “I’ve always thought you had beautiful eyes.” 

He opens and closes his mouth again, trying to find words. You wait him out, heart thudding. He’s still holding you close to him, fingers digging desperately into your arm. 

Footsteps thundering up the stairs wake him from his daze, Seungcheol calling your name. Soonyoung drops his hand and steps away from you, a cool mask of calm sliding into place, the vulnerability gone in an instant. “There’s your kiss,” he murmurs. “Is there anything else you need from me or do I need to jump too?” 

Synth pulses through you, vibrating your very bones as you lounge on the velvet couch in a private section of the club. The lights above you are hazy, but you can make out the shapes of holographic dancers, their graphics so high definition that you can see the sweat beading down their bare backs. 

From the VIP section, you have the perfect view of the DJ platform. Screens flash behind it, holographic wonders of creatures and places and visuals flashing brightly. Writhing bodies twist on the dancefloor around the DJ like a pit of snakes. Among them, you know your father’s Taps slither among the crowd, pushing drugs and psychedelics into the hands of those who can afford it. 

A trained eye can spot a Tap well enough. Though they blend in with the nylon and leather of the partiers, they tend to be sharp eyed and lucid, chewing on stim pops or some other substance to keep them awake and alert. 

It’s not the drug dealers in the crowd who keep drawing your attention, though. You shouldn’t be able to spot Soonyoung in the mass of bodies so easily, but you do. His hair is bleached, reflecting the flashing lights around him as he presses in close to the girl attached to him, hips swaying.

Your mouth sours. Leaning forward you snatch one of the bottles from the ice bucket and pour a shot into a crystal glass. Angel raises her brows as you slide the glass over to her and pour another for yourself. She’s not much of a drinker, but she takes the glass wordlessly, sensing your need to have a partner in crime.

Knocking it back, you hiss as the liquor burns all the way back. Even the high grade alcohol is like fire, washing away your irritation for a dizzy moment, veins buzzing. Leaning back, your eyes scan the crowd and settle on Soonyoung again. This time, he’s leading his partner through the crowd and toward the stairs. The stairs that lead to you. 

Seungcheol and Wonwoo crashing onto the seat next to you breaks your concentration. Seungcheol’s pupils are wide as saucers, eyes trailing upward to dance at the visual of a woman with pink skin sliding out of her top. 

Next to him, Wonwoo pulls a small bag with glittering dust from his pocket, shaking it to settle all of the contents at the bottom before unsealing the top. The way the powder glows against the lights tells you its high quality frostbyte, a powerful stimulant named for the biting feeling when inhaled. 

Instead of yelling over the music, you gesture toward the bag, catching Wonwoo’s attention. He gives you a surprised look followed by a wolfish grin. Wonwoo loves when you partake in partying harder, a side everyone so rarely sees from you. 

Sliding a knife from his pocket, you watch with rapt attention as Wonwoo dips it into the baggie, scooping delicately. You’d rather he cut lines on the table, but you’ll take what you can get, watching as he expertly fishes out a decent sized amount for you to take. 

You’re mutely aware that a group of bodies enters your section. Vernon throws himself down next to Angel, jostling you both as you lean over Seungcheol’s half-asleep form toward where Wonwoo extends the knife toward you carefully. You ignore the weight of Soonyoung’s eyes on you as he, Mingyu and a group of girls sit down and reach to fill their glasses with liquor. 

Wonwoo’s hands are steady as he holds the tip of his blade out to you, a hand held underneath to catch any powder that slips off the blade. Careful not to lose your balance and stab yourself, you level your face with the knife, inhaling sharply. 

Immediately the drug bites the back of your throat, eyes watering as you tilt your head upwards and blink for a second, letting it settle. Sniffing harshly a few times, you clear your nasal passage and blow out a breath, feeling the softest beginning of a tingle as you look at Wonwoo, who is still holding his hands out to you. 

“Thanks,” you nod. He grins and pulls back, rubbing the excess powder along his gums as you fall heavily against the back of the booth. 

Turning to look at your brother, you elbow him. “Are you alive?”

“Mhmm,” he grunts, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. Lights dance across his face, all pinks and blues and purples as he breathes in heavily. “I am fucked right now. Can you get me a stim pop from Hoshi? If I do anymore frostbyte I’m gonna get a nosebleed. Again.” 

Actually, asking Soonyoung for anything is the last thing you want to do. However, your brother does look like he needs to wake up, the mess of drugs and alcohol in his system working overtime to put him on his ass. Stim pops are a quick fix, a careful mix of sweet candy and methylphenidate to wake up the nervous system. Soongyoung always has them on his person, especially for when he works late night shifts. 

Turning in the booth, you’re smacked with a wave of color. For a moment, you drink it in, tilting your head upward as the figures dancing above explode into a world of lavender butterflies. They’re utterly captivating, your eyes watching them twist and dance in the air as they flutter. 

A laugh bubbles from your lips, entirely childlike. Grinning, you watch them for a few moments more before they disintegrate into stars, entire solar systems hovering and floating through the space above your head.

Seungcheol elbowing you breaks you from your concentration. Right. Stim pop. From Soonyoung. Glancing at the man in question makes your stomach plummet. Soonyoung’s head is resting against the back of the booth, the girl next to him draped over him with her mouth pressed hot to his throat, her teeth overly white in the blacklight of the club. 

A surge of rage shivers through you, your nails scratching across the green velvet, leaving marks in their wake. Leaning forward, you reach out a hand and smack Vernon’s knee to get his attention. He turns his lazy gaze on you, brows raised. When you point at Soonyoung, he nods and yells over his shoulder to get your target’s attention.

Soonyoung’s eyes flutter open and flick to where you’re sitting. He drinks in your expression before muttering something to the woman mouthing at his neck and peels her off, standing up and shuffling over to you. Angel makes room for him, all but sliding into Vernon’s lap as Soonyoung crashes down on the couch next to you. 

“Hi, Baby. What’s up?” 

“Cheol needs a stim pop,” you answer curtly, leaning away from him. He smells like vanilla and sandalwood laced with alcohol. Soonyoung is so close you can feel his body heat, his breath fanning across your bare shoulder as he moves to look at Seungcheol half asleep on your other side. “Then you can go back to your little public sex session.” 

Soonyoung makes an angry cat noise, narrowing his eyes at you as he smirks. He leans toward you further to reach into his pocket, shoulder pressed against you. His scent fills your nose, heady and familiar. You’re dizzy with it, the touch of his warmth against your skin making you flush.

Suddenly, his nearness is overwhelming. Every hair on the back of your neck stands on end, your skin hypersensitive to the way he leans against you. The glow of the lights is sharper than you remember, and you swear you feel the blood rushing through your body.

A response that could be either because of the drugs you inhaled a moment ago or because Soonyoung is pressed against you and you have the sudden urge to lean into him, to feel his warmth, to press your lips against his and feel their softness. 

In an attempt to save yourself from the trap, you shove back at him. He huffs, glaring at you as he fishes a stim pop out of his pocket and hands it over to you. You’re careful to avoid his touch when you snatch it from his nimble fingers, turning your back on him in the booth to look at Seungcheol.

“Why are you being a brat?” His voice is loud over the music, shouted into your ear as he tilts back into your space again. You can feel the warmth of him on your back. 

“Go away.”

“Baby, please don’t start with me.”

“I’m not starting fuck with you.” 

Seungcheol cracks an eye open to observe your argument with a look of interest. Seungcheol’s pupils are dilated like moons, totally empty of any coherent thought. You peel the wrapper off the stim pop, careful to hold it by the cardboard stick as you pop it into your brother’s mouth. 

For a few moments, your brother lolls the candy around his mouth, sucking greedily. Then, he blinks his eyes open, pupils narrowing as he drinks in the lights and the clubs. He sighs in relief, patting your thigh gratefully as the stimulant chases away whatever else is washing him out.

When you turn around, Soonyoung is still lingering, his dark eyes fierce and focused only on you. He looks good tonight. He looks good every night. He has become your picture perfect torture since that night you asked him to be your first kiss, kickstarting something you were incapable of foreseeing. 

The bleached hair is new and you hate how much you like it. The silvery strands look just as soft as his natural black, and it’s a nice contrast to his dark eyes and sharp cheekbones. Those stormy eyes are staring at you now, something playful that you don’t like glittering under the surface. 

He pouts at you. “Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you. Go away!”

“You definitely are. What did I do, hmm? Tell me.” 

“Please fuck off.” 

He rolls his eyes, peeling himself off the couch and muttering something under his breath. You’re sure he has nothing nice to say, so you sink further into the couch, crossing your hands over your chest as you sulk. 

Sticky air clings to your skin. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, the music vibrating your ribcage. Your anger is like a monster given life, fueled by the frostbyte and the feverish anger taking root in your stomach as Soonyoung settles back in his spot, pressing his mouth sloppily to the woman next to him. 

And that’s the problem, really. It’s not you that is pressing your mouth to his jaw while he leans against the back of the seat. It isn’t you running manicured nails down the front of his shirts, pulling at buttons despite the audience. 

It isn’t you and it should be. You want it to be.

It’s been two years since Soonyoung kissed you for the first time in his room. You’ve had more experience with other people since then, but it dulls in comparison to his simple kiss. You hate it. What you hate even more is how childish it makes you feel, embarrassment heating your cheeks and throat when he catches your gaze across the booth and you divert your attention. 

For the second time, Soonyoung peels the girl off of him, making like he’s going to get up and come sit next to you again. This time, his companion keeps him rooted to the spot, her nails digging into his forearm as she hisses something at him. He groans, head tilted back like he’s once again the most inconvenienced man in the room. 

Wanting nothing more than to blot him out, you call Wonwoo’s name again, leaning forward heavily for more frostbyte. Soonyoung whistles and snaps his finger in your direction as though to tell you no. You bristle, your anger turning to an inferno, burning up inside of you. 

Vernon and Angel both cringe, leaning out of your line of fire as you swivel to angle yourself toward Soonyoung, hands shaking. “Don’t fucking whistle and snap at me! I’m not a dog.”

“Baby, you don’t need more. Your pupils are the size of Mingyu’s big ass head.”

Mingyu, though right next to Soonyoung, doesn’t hear the insult, his tongue being sucked down the throat of the girl sitting in his lap, hips grinding on him. Another girl is pressed to his side, teeth nipping at his jaw. At least someone is having fun, you think, the three of them totally aware of the crackling tension in their booth. 

The girl attached to Soonyoung’s neck a moment ago bristles when she hears your nickname. “Baby?” she asks, face scrunching. “Are you serious?”

“Chill out, Victra. It’s her nickname.”

“Yeah,” you agree, shooting her a venomous look, despite her doing nothing to earn your ire. “Chill, Victra.”

Once again, you turn your back on Soonyoung, standing and scooting Seungcheol over to swap places with him. He does so with a keen eye, watching the scene unfold as he sucks his lollipop happily, content to watch the drama. 

Wonwoo dips his knife into the bag as you settle in next to him, bouncing with excitement. “I love when you do drugs, you’re so much fun.” 

“I don’t feel very fun right now.”

“Drugs will fix it!” 

“Wonwoo, don’t you dare give her that,” Soonyoung warns. He pries Victra’s hands off of him, leaning forward as though to reach across the table. 

“Ignore him,” you insist. 

Wonwoo hesitates, stuck between a rock and a hard place. The last thing he wants to do is tell you no. No one but your father and older brother get to tell you no. Wonwoo knows this better than most people. But he also doesn’t want to cross Soonyoung, a venture nearly as dangerous as pissing off Seungcheol. 

Soonyoung hisses at the girl next to him,  “Stop clawing at me! Baby, please stop being stubborn for one moment. Just one. ”

“Why the fuck did you even bring me up here?” Victra interrupts, ignoring Soonyoung’s plea. “You’ve done nothing but fawn over her since we got here. This isn’t fun.” 

Soonyoung ignores her. “If you’re mad at me, be mad at me. Stop blowing shit up your nose to prove a point and be a bitch, though.”

“I’m not proving fuck, Soonyoung. And Victra’s right, go fuck her in the bathroom or something and stop telling me what to do.”

“So it is about her?” 

“I have a name!” The her in question snaps. You turn around, temper flaring as you level your glare at her. She turns her nose up at you as she says, “It’s obvious you’re bothered he brought me here. Your jealousy is insufferable.” 

“Ding, ding ding,” Seungcheol imitates a bell. You turn around to look at Victra. “Round one! Fight!”

It takes a second for Victra’s words to land. It’s like each one hits you a second apart, packing their own punch as you register them. The pulsing music around you fades to a dull roar as you stare at her, seeing the way her lips twitch upward as she realizes she’s right. You are jealous that Soonyoung brought her up here. 

Victra’s grin is all it takes for you to spill over. Before you can register what you’re doing, you’re out of your seat and leaping over the table at her, knocking over glasses and bottles. Wonwoo cheers in delight behind you as your brother catches you by the waist, trying to keep you on your side of the booth as you tear at his hands to get across the booth. 

Seeing the attack of opportunity while you’re subdued, Victra shoots to her feet. Angel is fast as an adder, one moment sitting in Vernon’s lap and the next striking Victra down into the booth, knee planted in her stomach. Vernon does nothing to stop his girlfriend, opting instead to reach for a water bottle, unscrewing it to take a sip as his girlfriend pins Victra down to the seat with little effort. 

Noticing for the first time that their friend is in distress, the two women with Mingyu lift their heads. As soon as one starts to slide from his lap to reach for Angel, you kick a foot out, striking the bucket of alcohol and ice. The bucket goes flying at her, hitting her hard in the face. She screams, crumbling in Mingyu’s lap, cradling her face. 

Mingyu and Soonyoung are on their feet in seconds, soaked from the waist down and trying to gain control of the situation as it spirals. Mingyu becomes a blockade between Victra’s two friends, trying to keep them on their side of the booth. Soonyoung is prying a bottle from a hand before it can make its way toward you, yelling something indecipherable. 

Angel is still pressing her knee deep into Victra’s gut. Victra’s attention has diverted from you entirely as she screams like a wounded animal, pushing and scratching at Angel’s knee to try and get her off. You’re sure it hurts, but Angel doesn’t budge, sinking her weight into it. 

Leaning down, you grab something to lob at them - someone’s shoe - but Seungcheol manages to haul you off your feet and spin you, planting you into the booth behind him. You growl, shoving at his legs to move him out of the way, trying to re-engage. 

“Fucking hell,” he grunts. “Are you fucking juicing? Why are you so strong?”

“It’s the drugs,” Wonwoo offers unhelpfully. “Really top of the line drugs.”

“Shut up, Wonwoo!” Both you and Seungcheol bark at the same time. 

Wonwoo holds up his hands, leaning back into the seat as he watches the mess unfold with a delighted grin. You strike out with your foot, slamming against the booth’s table, shoving it in Soonyoung’s direction. You hear glass shatter as more things fall off the table, clattering to the ground. There are shrieks and curses that you can’t see with Seungcheol blocking the way. 

“He’s a fucking asshole!” You seethe to your brother, panting with rage. 

“He is, and you did exactly what he wanted you to do.” You try to kick the table again but he stops you, grabbing your knee. You feel like you can’t get enough air, sweat slicking your skin and the velvet of the couch too sharp against your flesh. “Soonyoung loves a fight when he’s fucked up. You know that.” 

“Well fuck him!”

He pulls the stick from his mouth, candied stim gone. He tosses it onto the floor and looks over his shoulder where Mingyu and Soonyoung are corralling the three women out of the booth. “God, Angel  broke that girl's rib I think. Hahahha!” 

“I want to break her fucking face!” 

“I think you broke her friend's face. She is fucked up. That bucket hit her right in the eye. What a shot.” 

“If you’re so entertained, why’d you get in my way?”

“There’s a lot of eyes here.” You glance around, noticing other booths looking at you, people ducking toward one another to whisper. “You have an image to maintain.” 

Adjusting your shirt, you settle back into the booth. “Alright. Alright I’m good.”

When Seungcheol moves out of the way to take a seat, Soonyoung replaces him. You glare up at him, feeling your anger curl up in you again. His lips twitch, a hint of a smirk as he sits down next to you, sighing heavily and tilting his head to look up at the flashing lights.

The girls are nowhere to be found. Angel is sitting back down next to Vernon who hasn’t moved, and there are servers picking up the mess you made. Mingyu is notably absent, though you can guess where he’s gone for the night. He’s good at making scorned lovers feel better about their bad luck. 

“Jealousy is crazy on you,” Soonyoung notes, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he glances at you sidelong. “I kind of like it.” 

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” you warn. He laughs, the fight totally leaving him. “I’m serious. Don’t ever do that to me again, Soonyoung. Not to me.” 

“Alright, alright. When you say jump, right?” 

Soonyoung’s fingers brush against yours. Just the rough feeling of his calluses against the tips of your fingers has you shivering, anger replaced with want. He doesn’t take your hand, doesn’t move to do anything else but lean back in silence with your fingers touching. 

Resigned, you say nothing else to him. You’d got what you wanted - sort of - even if you know you made an ass out of yourself doing it. It isn’t the first time he’s made you jealous, but it is the first time it’s boiled over so violently. 

You remind yourself not to do frostbyte when you’re mad anymore.

You turn your attention to where Angel is snorting frostbyte up her nose off of her boyfriend’s phone, accidentally turning on the hologram as she does, her face suddenly caged by green screen data. You call her name gently. She looks up at you, pupils blown, reflecting the lights dancing above like dark glass. “Thanks,” you offer. 

Her grin is too wide, teeth too white. She reminds you of a demon more than she does an angel. “Anytime.” 

When you settle back in, you glance at Soonyoung once. He looks down at you, smirking a single time before he leans into you and rests his head on your shoulder. You feel him melt into you, sighing as his eyes close and he nuzzles a little closer. You put your hand on his thigh, squeezing once before you leave it there, feeling the heat of his skin through his pants.

It isn’t until he’s almost asleep, pressed as close as possible to you that you realize maybe he got what he wanted too. 

Rain washes over the black city, the mist turning the thousands of digital and holographic advertisements into a watercolor smear of neon. It smells wet and like rot, the drains overworked and belching water and trash back out into the street as you walk, feet splashing. 

You quickly duck out of the way of a group of rowdy men spilling from a bar. You can smell the drink on them, their feet sloshing in the rising water of the street as they dredge toward the next bar. They whistle at the pretty girls dressed in light up raincoats and flickering green contacts, stumbling toward a brothel instead of the bar. 

Gripping your umbrella tighter, you quicken your steps. Grease smoke drifts toward you from various hawker carts, the sizzle of meat making your stomach growl. You ignore them, knowing you have dinner with your family later as you take a corner and plunge into the darkness of an underground stairwell. 

The LEDs on your umbrella cast a pink light as you descend the stairs, careful not to slip on the caked grime. Two guards stand outside metal double doors, music pulsing faintly behind it. They look you up and down, ready to deny entry until you state your name at the bottom of the steps. 

“ID?” the one on the right asks, giving you a critical eye. 

Of course he doesn't believe you. The daughter of the Tower would never walk anywhere without a body guard, especially in this part of the city. You spin the umbrella, the pink coalescing as he takes the phone from your hand and taps it, blue lighting up his face when your ID and profile appear in holographic data above the screen. 

He clears his throat and bows at the waist. When his counterpart doesn’t, he smacks him hard on the back, making the man lean over. “Apologies, Miss Choi. Right this way.” 

Music hits you full on when the doors open, the base creating static in the air. You cringe as it vibrates through your ribcage and teeth, wondering how anyone could stand to be in a club this loud. Popping the umbrella shut, you let your eyes adjust while one security guard remains at the door, shutting it behind you, and the other hands you your ID.

“Should I escort you to the office, Miss?” 

Writhing bodies dance together, scintillating like snakes in a pit. Above them, lasers and holograms light up the world with flashes of colors you didn’t even know existed. A wide bar stretches to the left of the floor, lit up by soft cyan lights. Behind it, the bartenders move in a blur, the glow on their clothes turning them ethereal. 

You glance at the security guard, who waits patiently before shaking your head. You point to the space above the bar where there are two large, mirrored windows looking out into the club. “Up there?”

“Yes,” he answers, hesitating. “Let me escort you.” 

With a roll of your eyes you nod, gesturing to him to lead the way. He clears a path, clubbers and workers alike moving out of his way when he shoves them. You walk behind him, swinging your head from side-to-side as you look at the people, fascinated. 

People with spikes pierced in their skin and whorling tattoos with glow ink stare back at you, glowing contact lenses and gemmed teeth all taking you in. You rarely get to mix in with the crowd that partakes in more unique cosmetic alterations and fashion, fascinated by someone who walks by with red glowing face tattoos like a demon mask. 

At the foot of the stairs, the guard lets you walk up first. It’s clear of people, so he remains standing at the bottom, taking up an imposing position with his hands linked in front of him, blocking the stairway entirely. 

The thud of music vibrates through your boots as you climb the stairs, greeting another security guard. You can tell he’s already been warned you’re here - he bows immediately and keys in the pad at the door, opening the office for you. 

You pass by him airily, stepping into the dry and much cooler office. The door closes behind you, immediately cutting off the sound with high–tech sound proofing. Soonyoung is leaning against the bar, his back to the door as he watches out the windows, a glass in his hand. 

“What in the fuck are you doing?” he asks, tossing you a look over his shoulder. You grin, skipping over to him. He doesn’t grin back, looking you up and down as you join him. You reach for the decanter he’s drinking from but he smacks your hand, viper fast. “Not a chance.”

“What? Why not?”

“You shouldn’t be here, much less without a security team. The Tower will be livid.” 

“The Tower doesn’t have to know.”

Soonyoung’s jaw flexes. “The security team will tell him you were here.”

“Not if you tell them not to.”

“Baby,” he sighs, tilting his head up and closing his eyes. You lean against the bar, watching him. The lights from the club are dimmer in here, but they flash against his face, painting him in golden light. He’s beautiful. “What are you doing here?”

“Angel said you had a bad day.”

“I always have a bad day. And tell Angel to shut her mouth.”

You snort. “You tell her that.”

That gets a grin out of him. He lowers his head, dark gaze finding yours. “You can’t just walk around the Lower City without a personal guard, Baby.”

“I’m not helpless.”

“I know you’re not. I’m not either but people try to rob me all the time. You, on the other hand, are a lot prettier of a prize than I am.” 

“So you think I’m pretty?”

This time when Soonyoung sighs, it’s affectionate. He sips his glass of amber liquid, turning to watch the crowd outside the office. He holds out his glass to you, a concession. You grin further, accepting it from him and bring it up to your nose to smell. You don’t know anything about liquor, but from the spiced scent you can tell it’s good quality.

You take a tiny sip. It goes down smooth - strong, but good and warm. Instead of giving him the glass back, you cradle it to your chest, leaning against the bar next to him close enough that your arms are almost touching. He continues looking out at the crowd, keen eyes serious and back to work while you look at him. 

Soonyoung is beautiful. His side profile is lethal, the slope of his neck elegant, the curve of his jaw sharp but delicate, his high cheekbones catching the light. His eyes are dark pools, reflecting the snatches of light that come through the dark windows. 

“Did you come here to stare at me?” he asks, never taking his eyes off the crowd. 

“What if I said I did?” 

His mouth twitches at the corner. “Unfortunately I would believe you.”

Watching over clubs isn’t usually Soonyoung’s job. But this club is in a terrible part of the city and isn’t worth much to the Choi Syndicate, so sometimes he’s awarded the opportunity to prove himself to your father and to the elders of the Syndicate that he’s competent and capable of leadership, despite the fact you’ve always known him to be. 

Soonyoung isn’t meant for leading like Seungcheol. But there is a certain level of loyalty and understanding he has to cultivate with the heavies of the family, the Swords who carry out the bloody tasks of removing people from the way and keeping assets safe. His father had been the Sentinel of your family for years until his death, and Soonyoung is expected to pick up that mantle.

This is all a part of that. Soonyoung already has the loyalty of the security team running this hole in the wall, alerting him the second you arrived and refusing to let you go up the stairs alone. Had they failed to do that, you might think a little less of them. 

Soonyoung also probably would have had them beaten. 

Finally, Soonyoung turns to look at you. He sighs and raises his brows expectantly. 

“What?” you ask. 

“What did you come here for? Real answer, this time.” 

“I told you. Angel said you had a bad day. That is my real answer.”

“And?”

You shrug, sipping from the glass and turning toward the windows. “I wanted to make it a better one.” 

That makes him go silent. You can see him turn to look at you, his stormy gaze pinning you to the spot. You don’t look at him, letting him stare as you nurse the drink and watch the dancing crowd down below. They’re beautiful, in a way, an ocean of bodies saying as colors turn them blue and then green and then bright red and then lavender. 

Soonyoung leans toward you, bumping his head on yours lightly. That gets a laugh out of you, stomach fluttering and wishing he would stay leaned against you. He pulls away though, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his eyes back to his job. 

“Thank you,” he finally says, voice quiet. “It is already a better day.” 

The silence is comfortable. You eventually give him the drink back and he takes it, tongue darting out to lick the lip gloss you left. He hums. “Cherries.” 

“You’re gross.” 

He smiles into the glass, taking a sip. “I actually have something for you.” 

“A present?”

He snorts. “Not exactly. Go to the desk - top drawer on the right.” 

Eagerly, you do as he says. The heavy wooden desk sits in the back of the room, imposing even without the metal lockers behind it with weapons. You ignore the heavy guns under padlocks and go for the drawer in question. 

A rectangular box is in the drawer Soonyoung specified, unmarked. You turn it over in your hands, curious. It’s not very heavy and fits mostly in your palm. 

“Bring it over here.” 

You do, trailing back to Soonyoung. He extends his hand and you pass it over to him, watching with interest as he cracks the box open with the sheer strength of his fingers. He pulls out a small device, a wire and what looks to be a plug, tossing the box to the bar. 

“Do you know what this is?” he asks, holding up the device. 

It’s a small rectangle with a keypad and a screen. You raise your brows in surprise. “It is a very old phone.” 

“It is.” He smiles, pleased with your answer. He passes the materials over to you and you hold them against your chest. “That’s the charger and the charging cord. It’s one of the old kinds of phones that requires a phone tower. There are barely any in the city.” 

“And what is this gift for?” 

“I own the phone towers that support it.” You raise your brows. Soonyoung rarely spends the inheritance his parents left behind, so you’re surprised. “It only has a single phone number programmed into it that will call the one I have.”

At this, he reaches into his pocket and produces the phone’s twin. He shakes it for emphasis, pressing a button and lighting up the screen. “You have to make sure to keep it charged. I want you to have it for emergencies only. And I mean emergencies, Baby. This is a last resort kind of device, alright?” 

You chew your bottom lip, dragging your eyes to look up at him. “Why?” 

“Because I need to know that you always have a last resort.” His gaze darkens. “Clearly your assigned security team lets you give them the slip. I need to know that you can hit the dial on this faster than you can on our phones. They’re overly complicated and not quick. With this?” 

He reaches over and turns on the phone in your hand. Once booted, he presses the one button. The device in his hand starts ringing. “Direct and fast access to me at all times. Do it even if you can’t tell me where you are. I’ll find you.” 

Emotion twists your throat. You grip the phone with a vice grip, looking up at him with wide eyes. His face is serious. He slips his phone in his pocket, turning back to do his job. “I will answer,” he promises. “It doesn’t matter when and where. I will answer that phone even if I’m dying. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.”

He nods. “Good.”

A knock on your door wakes you up from a dreamless sleep. Darkness spills across your room like ink as you slip from your bed, cursing when you kick the corner of your nightstand. With a raspy voice, you ask the automated room assistant to turn on the nightlights, a hazy purple immediately lighting the circumference of your room.

Squinting against the lavender glow, you pad over your room to open the door. Soonyoung is leaning heavily against the wall just beyond the threshold, his chin tucked to his chest and his hair sweaty and clinging to his temples. 

He doesn’t move when you open the door, the lilac light casting an eerie radiance on the side of his face. It’s hard to make out his expression in the lurking shadow of the hallway, and he offers no explanation for why he’s knocking on your door at three in the morning. 

“Soonyoung?” you whisper, eyes darting down the hall. No one else is around. “Where are Cheol and Vernon?”

“S’cheol is still working. Vernon went to stay at Angel’s.”

“Are you - Soonyoung are you drunk? Or high?”

“Yeah.” 

Both you realize. You can deal with both. 

Grabbing him by the hand, you tug him gently. He pushes off the wall with heavy steps, stumbling through your open door and into the room. You grip him tighter, shutting your door with a gentle click before turning around to face him. 

Soonyoung won’t look at you, turning his face away as he sways a little where he stands. Now that you can see him fully, you realize that there is blood on the collar of his shirt. Heart thudding, your hands reach for it, peeling it back to look at his neck. Specs of dry crimson flake from sweaty skin, making your terror reach new heights. 

He shrugs you off. “Not mine.” 

“I - what’s going on?” 

Instead of answering you, he walks a few crooked steps toward your bed and sits down on the edge. Licking your lips, you approach him slowly. He’s slouched over, elbows pressed to his knees as his head hangs heavily. He still hasn’t looked at you properly and you’re aching to see his eyes. You can always understand him better when you see his eyes, able to read the depth of emotions hiding beneath his mask.

When you reach him, you crouch down. Instead of grabbing for him again and risking him pulling away, you rest your hands on top of your knees. When afraid or upset, Soonyoung is like a cornered animal. You don’t know whether he’s in fight or flight, both just as dangerous as the next. 

“Soonyoung,” you say again gently. You watch his every move. “You’re scaring me. Do you need me to call Cheol or Vernon?”

If Seungcheol is working the circuit, he isn’t the best to call. Late night circuits include going from club to club under the Choi banner to monitor the drug trafficking and attend small business meetings as appropriate. Seungcheol will drop whatever he’s doing for you in a heartbeat, but it’s more complicated than that. 

In theory, Vernon is easier to get a hold of. He’s already off work and though he might not answer his phone if you call, you know his girlfriend will. Plus, the blood on Soonyoung’s shirt and skin can give you a guess at what’s happened, and Vernon is more equipped for that type of thing than you are. 

“Let me call Vernon-”

“No,” he finally says. “No. Sorry. I just.” 

Your chest squeezes in pain. It’s like you can feel the torture radiating through him, feel the weight of whatever it is that’s dragging him down yourself. Desperation drives you to reach out toward him slowly, watching for any sign of startling him. When he doesn’t move to pull away, you touch him gently, squeezing his knee gently. “What do you need?” 

“My dad always said I should feel something.” His words are halting, coming out slurred. You wait, holding your breath as he works through them. “Always said that you should feel something when you kill someone. If you don’t, it means you’re nothing more than a beast with base instincts. Not intelligent or refined.”

It takes everything in you not to let your grip turn to steel at his words. Instead, you rub your hand up and down his thigh soothingly, saying nothing. Soonyoung has never killed someone before. You would know if he had. He’s the last in your immediate circle of friends beside yourself to take on the weight of stealing life, and you’ve dreaded this day for a long time. 

Murder is an inevitability in your family. Keeping the Choi Syndicate on top requires sacrifice, cruelty and cunning. Soonyoung had started serving as an officially ranked member of the Syndicate over a year ago, and though he had fucked up a lot of people and brought them to the brink of death, he hadn’t actually done it yet. 

“I felt nothing,” he whispers, voice thick. “Fucking nothing.” 

“What do you mean?”

“There was no guilt. I didn’t even flinch. It was so easy, like fucking breathing. That’s not what my dad wanted me to be. He always said that those who felt nothing were just… baser creatures. That we were better because we were… made better.” 

“I think your dad wanted a lot of things. You being alive was the most important of those things, Soonyoung.” 

“I’m just tired of feeling fucking empty. I don’t give a shit that I killed someone, Baby. Honestly? I was fucking looking forward to it. I thought maybe - just maybe - I would feel something, even if it was guilt or horror or satisfaction. There was nothing.” 

You have no idea what to say. Instead of words, you surge forward, letting go of Soonyoung’s knee to push yourself between his thighs, wrapping your arms around his middle. He flinches for a moment, arms hanging dead at his side as you press your cheek to his chest, squeezing. 

Inside, you feel your heart crack open. You shove down the overwhelming sense of despair on his behalf, instead focused on him. There’s nothing to say with words, and you hope he can feel what you’re trying to tell him through touch, that he can feel everything you don’t know how to say as you hold him tight, clinging to him. 

Slowly, his arms encircle you. It takes him a moment, but he applies a little pressure back. It makes you scoot in more, pressed as close as you can get to him. He buries his face in your neck, his breaths warm and smelling like tequila. He smells like him too, vanilla and sandalwood. 

“I don’t feel like a person sometimes,” he whispers. “It’s like the ability for me to feel anything died forever ago. Like I killed it so that I didn’t ever have to hurt again. Now I only ever feel when-”

He cuts himself off and sinks into you a little more. You bear his weight, willing to carry any burden for him. You don’t think he realizes that he could ask you to jump and you’d say how high. You’ve always been willing to jump for him, always willing to do whatever he wants, whatever he needs. 

Gently, you ask, “You only ever feel when what? You can tell me if you want. Whatever you need.” 

“I feel when I’m with you.” Soonyoung whispers it like it’s a secret he doesn’t want you to hear. You feel the words hit your skin where he speaks them, a shiver slithering through you. His grip on you tightens a little with the admission, like now that he’s said it, he can’t let go. Won’t. “I feel most like a person when I’m with you.”

Pressing the flat of your hand to his back, you begin to stroke up and down slowly, touch following the careful ridges of his spine. He sighs, shivering in your hold. You want nothing more than to take the pain or whatever he’s feeling away, to rip it from him and to destroy it. 

The fierceness of your love for him is hard to tamp down. A fiery admission of your feelings for him isn’t what he needs right now. You know Soonyoung like the inside of your own soul, everything that makes him tick, every habit he’s picked up over the years. You can sense him standing lost at sea, needing an anchor. Needing you. 

“Okay,” you say softly. “So stay with me. Be a person with me.”

“I’m not made for you.”

“Yes you are.” Your nails dig into his back through his shirt, pressing sharply. The desire to covet him is so intense it overtakes you. “If I make you a person, then how could we be made for anyone but one another?” 

Silence greets your logic. You stay holding him like that, desperate to keep him there, terrified he’ll shrug you off and get up. He’s done it before, shucking off your affection like something to be disposed of. And still you give it to him freely, begging him to take it. 

He doesn’t shy away from you. Instead you feel him nod, mouth brushing tenderly across your throat in the ghost of a kiss. “If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. Do you understand? I won’t… I will be incapable of ever letting you go. Ever. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You hug him tighter. “Try to leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung.” 

“Where’s your other half?” the voice causes you to turn from where you lean against the bar. Angel slides up next to you, cocking her head as she does. She looks like a wraith, dressed in a rain slicker over black long-sleeved shirt that’s tucked into black pants. Her jacket and combat boots are wet, suggesting it’s still raining outside. “You’re usually attached at the hip. My therapist calls that codependency. Says Hansol and I have it too.” 

“Does your therapist also know you’re a murderer?” you mutter. The bartender slides drinks over to you and you nod in thanks. “Or that you’re only seeing her because Jeonghan made a bet with you? Or that your job often involves extortion? What does she think about that?” 

As a Rook of the Choi Syndicate, Angel’s job is a far cry from the holy nickname she’s sported since she was a child. Like Vernon, her role within your father’s empire is to collect debts owed to the Choi family and to remind them never to fall behind on payments. Other times, she’s simply used as a good tool to put the fear of god into enemies of the Choi family, and she’s good at it.

Raised under the careful tutelage of the Yoon family, there’s no weakness Angel can’t find and use. The only one better at it than her is her step brother, who is probably sitting next to your brother behind closed doors somewhere in the Choi Estate holding a meeting.

As Seungcheol’s future second in command, it’s Jeonghan’s responsibility to learn the ropes just like your brother. One day, it’ll be the two of them leading your family, a thought that makes you cringe with worry. 

Angel answers your question with a shrug. “I’m sure she knows I’m into some shit. I’m learning all kinds of new things about myself.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“I don’t like therapy. And I kind of want to ask my therapist why she thinks she’s qualified for therapy when she’s fucking three of her clients.”

A snort escapes you as you shake your head. Of course Angel knows that about her own therapist. Lifting the two drinks on the bar, you drift away from her, eyes flicking over the Rook. “Stay out of trouble, Angel. And give Vernon my love.” 

She grins, wicked sharp and deadly. “No bar fights, hmm? Enjoy the party.” 

The party in question is exhausting. You’ve been playing pretty princess all night, saying hello to all of the right people, shaking all of the jeweled hands, kissing all of the right asses. You’re exhausted and the tension in your shoulder has been knotting further and further. 

Once upon a time you would have been thankful to at least not be Seungcheol. He shouldered a lot more responsibility. Now you’ve realized that you don’t shoulder less than him - it’s just different. If Seungcheol is the sword and shield of the Syndicate, you’re the face and smile. Galas, charities, celebrity events - it’s a never ending stream of smile, pose, shake hands. 

It doesn’t hide the fact that you sit on a throne that belongs to a criminal empire, of course. But it’s also no secret that the Three Syndicates run the city. Your family has long been one of the stalwart backbones of the government and city infrastructure. Only the Kim family and the Yong family come close. 

Still, appearances are everything. Especially when the Yong family owns most of the media outlets, weaponizing it against the Choi Syndicate every chance they get. You make it harder for them, using your appearances and platforms like a carefully wielded sword. 

Spotting Soonyoung among those dressed in dark security uniforms is easy. He nearly blends in with the dark pipe and drape that has been set up all over the ballroom of your home, but you could find him anywhere, your internal compass pointing to him even in the dark.

Soonyoung’s eyes alight on you, sharp and intense. His face is a cool mask of indifference, but you can see the way interest sparks in his eyes as he drinks you in. He’s already seen you in your dress tonight, but it doesn’t stop him from refamiliarizing himself, eyes tracing every dip and curve.

God you wish you were somewhere else with him. Specifically wrapped in the gray sheets of his bed, sweat-slicked and out of breath. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you say shyly, handing him a drink.

He takes it and looks up at you, arching a brow. “I can’t drink this, I’m working.” 

“It’s just soda with lime, the way you like it.” 

His lips twitch in a smile as he takes a sip, nodding in confirmation. He doesn’t reach out to you and hold you close like you know he wants to, respecting the propriety of his position and the fact that he is on the clock right now. 

“You look tired,” he murmurs, eyes studying your face. 

So does he. As an official Sword of the Choi family, his job keeps him out late, bloodied, and tired. He’s completely changed from the man who sank into your arms that first night he killed someone, hardened into someone that your father sends to do just that often. 

A weapon. A Sword. A trusted knife in the dark for the Choi family.

You think Soonyoung is more capable than being a heavy for your dad and his associates. Soonyoung is intelligent and sharp, having gained perspective and a wealth of knowledge from living with your family. Still, his dad had been the leader of the hired guns for the Choi Syndicate. Soonyoung is an efficient killer, his fate bound by his father long ago.

“When are you off tonight?” you ask instead of telling him how tired he looks.

“I’m not.” You frown. He sips his drink again and gives you a soft smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s been busy. The Yong family are getting in our way at the docks. I gotta head down there with Vernon and Jeonghan after the party.” 

“The Yongs are doing it outright?” 

“No. We’re pretty confident it’s them though. Jeonghan is working on it. If we can bring the Xu family under our wing, it would be a lot easier to push them out.” 

“They have a son,” you note, thinking about the last event you attended where the Xu heir was in attendance. “Maybe marriage to one of our big hitters? Nexus Capital has an heiress.”

“I’ll mention it to Jeonghan. Who the fuck would want an arranged marriage, though?”

“Not me,” you laugh, wiping the eyelash you spot on his cheek gently. He gives you a tired, albeit affectionate smile. “You’ve been working nonstop. Tell Seungcheol you need a night off.”

“We both know it’s not Seungcheol working me to the bone, Baby.” 

Swallowing thickly, you turn away from him under the guise of scanning the crowd. You know you don’t fool him. Both you and Soongyoung know your father does not approve of your relationship, taking it out on Soonyoung to keep him busy and away from you. 

Your father would never hurt Soonyoung directly. You know that. He loves him like a son - sees his late best friend in the features of the man that Soonyoung has been shaped into under his care and tutelage. When you started dating Soonyoung seriously, you thought your parents might be happy. They adore him and they loved his parents just as much. 

Soonyoung is below your station, though. 

Your father will never say it outright. He wouldn’t insult his late friend’s son that way. But the way your father works Soonyoung harder than anyone else, holding him to a standard he doesn’t even keep for his highest level of men, you realize how deep the dissatisfaction goes. Even your mother’s adoration of Soonyoung does little to shield him from the petty assignments, try as she might. 

Still, you don’t care. And at the end of the day, neither does Soonyoung. As long as he gets to have you, he’s willing to put up with the petty assignments and the working late. 

“Hey,” Soonyoung says gently, bringing your attention back to him. He finishes his drink and sets it on a banquet table nearby. His eyes are averted, looking somewhere across the room as his hand slips around your waist to squeeze you quickly and press a kiss to your temple. “I’ve got to go - I’ve got a meeting with Vernon before we head out tonight. I’ll see you when I’m done. Probably won’t be until late morning.” 

“Alright,” You sigh. His hand slips from your waist and you wish you could pull him back to you. “Love you.” 

He grins brightly, giving you a wink before he melts into the crowd, weaving around party goers. Your heart squeezes when you lose sight of him. 

Someone clearing their throat catches your attention. You spin around to see Lan, one of your father’s personal Swords nodding politely at you. “Your father wishes to see you in the West Parlor. I’m to escort you.”

“Oh. Sure.” You set your drink down on the banquet table, wiping your damp hands on your dress. “Lead the way.” 

People bow their heads in respect as you go. You keep an even pace with Lan, which is hard to do with his long strides and your strappy heels digging into your ankles. He slows for your benefit and you give him a grateful smile, the swelling noise from the party leaving you behind as you step out of the ballroom and walk toward the west wing of the house. 

Some people mill about the halls of the estate. You can spot the members of the Syndicate who are on duty, mostly Swords that belong to the security force employed under the Choi family. You spot Chan leaning against a wall while gesturing broadly with his hands as he speaks to the owner of a new club on the edge of the Pearl District. When he catches your stare, Chan winks before focusing his attention back on the owner. Probably trying to work out some sort of deal or partnership, as is his job. 

The west wing of the house is quiet and off limits to the rest of the party. Your bedroom is just up two flights of stairs, your bed calling your name as you pass under the stairwell into the hallway that belongs to the West Parlor, the library, the study and your father’s billiards room. 

Old Man Vero is standing outside your fathers study, his hands linked in front of him and his head straight forward. He glances your way as Lan leans you toward the door, cracking a bit of a smile on his leathery face and giving you a wink. You grin, lightly reaching out and touching his elbow as Lan opens the door for you. Your father’s Swords have been in your life since you were a child, permanent figures of fixed loyalty and familiarity. 

They love you like they love your father, like they love your brother. It isn’t pure fear and power that keeps the Choi Syndicate together. Your father has plenty of that among the ranks, but the loyalty and love between him and his higher ranking members is real. Critical. It was a skill he taught you and Seungcheol, both of you arming yourself with your own shield of friends and confidants. 

Your father sits in a leather armchair, leaned back with his eyes closed. Next to him, a cigar smokes in the ashtray, threatening to go out as the thin wisps of smoke vanish into the air. An old fashioned record player echoes in the far corner of the room, smoothe notes vibrating through the air. 

“Tower,” you greet him formally, bowing at the waist. “How can I be of service to the family?” 

His eyes flutter open and he looks at you tiredly. He looks so much like your brother that it’s uncanny, sometimes. But his youth has worn off, his age more and more evident these days as he spreads himself thin expanding the Choi empire. Your mother has asked him - begged him - to give more responsibility to Seungcheol, but he refuses.

At least you know where your stubborn streak comes from. 

“So formal,” he notes, his lips twitching upward. He gestured for you to sit in one of the arm chairs. You do, smoothing your dress carefully as you sit. Behind you, Lan exits the room, the soft click of the door behind you. “You were always a better student than your brother.”

“That’s because he’s a man.”

A hearty laugh makes you grin, feeling a flutter of fondness. He was never an overly affectionate father, but he’s always been kind, though firm. You respect him, which is saying something in your world.

“Spoken like an intelligent woman,” he sighs. You wait patiently, watching as he seems to gather his words. Your stomach knots, sensing a trepidation about him that you’re not used to. “Your intelligence has always been your best asset, though you’re a little hot-headed like your brother.” 

“Steadfast is the mountain,” you say, quoting the Choi family motto.

He grins and adds your mother’s family moniker, “But the fire does burn. I knew marrying your mother was a good choice. Marrying the right person is paramount in this life. Family unions can make or break an empire, and they forge old alliances anew or secure new alliances.” 

A prickle down your spine makes you sit straighter. You had implied as much earlier to Soonyoung about the Xu family, knowing marriage was a viable option to bring the shipping mogul into the Choi empire. Now, though, the notion has you on edge, watching him like a frightened cat.

“I didn’t pick your mother, you know,” he muses, his eyes unfocusing somewhere far away. “But when my father recommended her, I knew he was right. I was familiar with her, of course. We went to school together. Fought like cats, but she was so intelligent and fierce.” 

You’ve heard this story before. Your father hadn’t loved her to start, but your mother had loved him right away. Had always known that she loved him. She’d shown up at one of his billiard nights and told him exactly how she felt, asserting that they would be married and that he would be loyal to her. 

He’d fallen in love with her that night. 

He sighs heavily. “I see a lot of your mother in you.”

“Don’t let her hear you sound so disappointed. She might be offended.”

“She’s better than me,” he says. His eyes focus on you, flicking back to appraise you. Sweat slicks on your back and only years of training keep you from not fidgeting under his weighty gaze. “But it would be easier sometimes if you were more like me. Less fire, more mountain. Still, you are rational, so let us speak plainly: you are going to marry the Kim family heir.” 

Silence hangs in the air. You stare at him, your brain taking a moment to catch up with his words. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion, processing the firmness in his voice, the way he looks at you with heavy countenance. 

You are going to marry the Kim family heir.

A high-pitched ringing starts in your ears and you feel the buzz of panic start to tingle at the base of your spine. Your fingers dig into the arms of your chair a little, trying to fight the staccato rhythm of your heart from getting out of control. 

“What?” you ask. It feels dumb, compared to the eloquence you’re capable of. 

“Kim Yijun is a perfect match,” he says simply. “He’s in line to inherit the Kim Syndicate. There is tension with the Yong family, and I will not lie to you: they have a far larger reach than we would like. They don’t do things the old way like the Choi and Kim families. They have started to ally themselves with the Arash family in Veridian, giving them cuts and room in our city to spread their reach outside the bounds of their own city.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“The Kim and Choi families have been united before. They’ve always been our first ally in times of city upheaval and Syndicate war, and they, like us, don’t believe in letting outsiders have a seat at the table. The Yong family don’t understand that, and are willing to let vermin have scraps if it means scooting us out.”

“I’m-” you shake your head. “You can’t ask that of me.”

“I’m not asking.” He reaches for a lighter and picks up the cigar. He takes a moment to relight it, taking his focus off of you. You feel your pulse spiking, your grip on the chair like iron. “I am telling you that this is what your future will be. I understand you like the Kwon boy, but-”

You sneer, baring your teeth. “The Kwon boy? Don’t reduce him to some stranger. Soonyoung grew up in this house, he is family. And I don’t just like him, I love him. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you bullying him because you’re frustrated that I love him. You love him too.” 

“I do. I love him like my own. But he is not for you.”

“He is. I will not marry Yijun. I am asking you not as a member of this Syndicate, but as your daughter to drop this machination from your plans. I am your blood, you cannot ask this of me.”

“I told you, I am not asking. I am telling you.” 

A tremor starts in your hands. Your heart races so fast that you feel sick, sweat slicking your skin as you begin to pant sharply. The ringing in your ears grows until you feel disconnected to it, like suddenly you’re living in third person. You’re aware that you’re hyperventilating and yet, suddenly it’s separate from you.

Standing abruptly, you feel the world tilt. You take a second to steady yourself, feeling the numb tingle spread throughout you like a flood. 

“Sit down,” your father demands. You hear the warning. Recognize the firmness in it. This is the Tower of the Choi Syndicate speaking, not your father. 

“Take this as my resignation from the family,” you tell him. Your voice doesn’t feel like your own, steady and without inflection. “I’ll renounce my inheritance and will not use the Choi family for any connection or advantages-”

“You will not!” 

His voice startles you. Lures you away from the safety of your detachment. You look at him, eyes wide and shaking. His hand is fisted on the armchair, his rage crackling around him like a thunderstorm. “I will not have my only daughter sabotage everything this family has built for the affection of someone unfit for her station. Kwon Soonyoung is a weapon meant to serve you. You will marry Kim Yijun or I will remove the obstacle altogether.” 

Your entire life there have been two versions of your father. The stoic leader of one of the oldest criminal empires in Hyperion, the vicious man who could be cold and calculating, and who was reverently feared by his enemies. The kind father who watched you and Seungcheol study math together, carefully explaining to you how to carry numbers over in the equation. 

It is the former who sits before you now. Someone entirely unfamiliar to you, though you’ve always known he existed. And why would you? Your father has never had to be ruthless with you before, hiding the way he could cut from you until it was necessary. 

Soonyoung knew. You know it with absolute clarity. You remember the fear in his eyes when you had slipped into his room that night asking for a kiss, the way that he is always so careful about when and where he touches you, the way he takes the assignments and the mistreatment without so much as a protest because it means he gets to have you.

“You would kill him?” you whisper, looking your father in the eye. “You promised to take him in when his family was murdered. He had no one, and you promised his father you’d raise him as your own. You would go back on that?” 

He scowls. “If his father knew what he was, he’d kill Soonyoung himself. That boy is a dog to be set upon whoever his owner wishes, who kills with impunity.” You say nothing. I don’t feel like a person. Soonyoung’s words echo in your mind, haunting. “I hold the collar and I will put him down, if need be.” 

“So you raised a pet to be disposed of at your convenience?”

“I raised a boy who should be grateful I haven’t put him in the fucking ground for sullying my only daughter. I let you two have time, and you should be grateful. It is my love for him that has stayed my hand this long. No more. You will marry Kim Yijun, or you will bury that boy. This is the command of your Tower.”

“Mother will not let you-”

“Your mother doesn’t let me do anything. I am the Tower of this family, and it does what I command. You will fall in line.” 

Tears spill from your eyes. You suddenly feel like you’re standing on a cliff, the vertigo of nothingness at the bottom making you sick with fear. Desperation grips at you as you stare at your father, willing him to change his mind. Begging him. 

His pity doesn’t come. There is only resolute silence, watching as you crumple in front of him, knees going weak as you abruptly sit - fall - on the floor. You bury your face in your hands, grief for something lost stealing your ability to maintain control before you’ve even given an answer. 

I’m not made for you. 

Soonyoung had tried to tell you a long time ago and you’d brushed him off. Of course he was made for you. He was all you’ve ever wanted, and you’ve always been given what you wanted. You made him whole, and he you. How could you not be made for one another. 

“Please don’t do this to me. Daddy,” you whisper, trying to appeal to him with the little girl he loves. “Please, I love him.” 

“Lan will escort you to your room.” You ignore his words, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, willing the tears to stop. You know later you’ll feel pathetic for the display of emotion, for the meltdown in the face of adversity. “You will announce your engagement at the end of the week.”

“Yes, Tower.”

“If you so much as remotely try to sneak around with him, I will put him in the ground and bear the weight of that grief for eternity.” 

“Yes, Tower.”

“Know that I love you. We must make sacrifices for this family we wish not to. But you will make the sacrifice like I have so many times before. So will Soonyoung.” 

You stand, limbs shaky as you look at your father, the heat of your mother’s rage fueling your gaze. “Yes, Tower.”

Sleep claws at you with greedy fingers, unwilling to give you up to the waking light of day. You groan, suspended in that moment of almost awake but achingly unaware. A brush of warm skin on your arm pulls you the rest of the way from heavy sleep, your thoughts sticky as they formulate and you open your eyes, squinting in the gray light of your room. 

Squinting at the clock displayed on your nightstand, you realize it’s late morning. The tinted windows of your room keep out the sunlight, but a single panel has been adjusted to let some of the cloudy day in, a single shaft of gray spilling into your room like muddy water. 

Warmth presses behind your back, the steady touch on your arm trailing up and down. For a second, you lean back into it, feeling your head thud against Soonyoung’s chest, his mouth pressing against the crown of your head. He drags his fingers up and down your arm absently, light as a feather. He smells like soap, a hint of his familiar vanilla and sandalwood. 

“Have trouble sleeping?” the words are mumbled against you. 

“Hmm?”

“There’s lines of crushed knockout on your nightstand, Baby.” 

You look at the nightstand. Sure enough, the white pills you crushed are dusted across the surface. The reality of why you used them slams into you so suddenly that you stiffen, muscles locking.

Soonyoung notices immediately, his touch stilling. “What?”

Finding the words is impossible. You don’t know where to start, your father’s words make you dizzy. The sheets stick to your skin, Soonyoung’s warmth too hot to stand. You scramble from bed, kicking at the sheets and putting distance between you as you bolt toward the bathroom. 

“Hey,” he calls after you. You don’t turn to look at him, the cool tile giving you goosebump as the lights flicker on. You close the door behind you firmly, pressing your back against it. Soonyoung’s knocks are immediate, his voice calling your name on the other side. “What’s wrong?” 

The use of your name sours your stomach. You lurch forward, diving for the toilet as the contents of your stomach empty. The bile burns, your eyes watering as you press against the cold porcelain, clinging to it for life. 

Soonyoung opens the door, letting himself in as you heave again. He’s quick to react, opening the medicine cabinet to remove an anti-nausea inhalent. He wordlessly pads over to you, crouching down to extend it toward you. 

You avoid looking at him directly in the eye as you snatch it from him. His brows are pinched in concern, face swollen with what little sleep he got and mouth turned downward. Your stomach roils again but holds as you crack the inhalent and wave it under your nose, breathing in gently. 

The stimulant makes your eyes water, but immediately the churning in your stomach subsides. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in and out slowly, trying to regulate yourself. Soonyoung watches in silence, his hands opening and closing at his sides like he wants to reach out and touch you but doesn’t. 

When you open your eyes, there is so much love and concern on his face that you almost break right then and there. Instead, you clear your throat and straighten, tossing the medication in the trash.

“Thanks, just hungover. I need to shower.”

He looks doubtful. “Alright.”

Soonyoung stands, heading to the shower. You clear your throat and he pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Alone, please.” 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just want to shower.” 

He says your name again. Not Baby. Not any other derivative. Your name. “You can talk to me.”

Your heart cracks. You panic. Your brain races for the only viable option. “I just want to take a fucking shower, Soonyoung.” You push yourself off the ground, scowling at him. He moves out of your way as you pass him, stunned to silence. “I don’t need you crowding my space every five seconds.” 

Refusing to look at him as you hit the panel in the wall, you instead focus on the water that falls from the ceiling, a storm of heat and the smell of peppermint. You keep your back turned toward him, staring at the water as it heats, steam curling in tendrils where it hits the stone tiles. 

“You can go,” you say sharply. 

“Alright.” 

The gentle click of the door when he leaves is barely audible over the hum of the shower. You let the rushing water lull you into a state of numbness, peeling your clothes off with unsteady, mechanical movements. 

Hot water slicks off your shoulders. You close your eyes and hang your head, letting the feel of the peppering water sluice over your ears, eyes, nose, mouth. You let it blind your senses to nothing but the roar of water, blotting out everything else. 

If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. 

You remember when Soonyoung whispered it against your skin just a few years ago, spoken carefully and clearly, a promise and a warning. He would never let you go. You had to let him go. Telling him what your father has asked of you - has threatened to take away from you - will only make Soonyoung’s feet dig in further.

For as long as you’ve known him, Soonyoung has been a covetous creature. You remember the night at the club he antagonized you just to see that spark of want, just to prove to himself it was him you wanted. You remember the way he clung to you in the dark of your bedroom, the only person who could ever make him whole. Who could make him feel. 

Your father sees Soonyoung as a loyal attack dog - but it isn’t the Tower of the Choi Syndicate who holds Soonyoung’s collar. It never has been. Soonyoung has never asked your father how high. 

Pressing your palms to your eyes, you start deep breathing exercises. In through your nose, out through your mouth. The shaking in your fingers begins to subside, the logic part of your brain turning on. 

The threat on Soonyoung’s life is real. You saw the resolve in your father’s eye, the painful glint. He would hate to do it, but he would do it. You’re entwined too deep into your family’s affairs and business to vanish. There is nothing in the world you have that’s your own, no assets that are not connected to them in some way.

And if you tell Soonyoung, he’ll face the problem like he does everything that stands in his way: try to kill it. 

For a split moment, your brain chases the thought like a mouse after cheese. Like a long math problem, you work out if it’s possible to commit patricide and get away with it. Your mother will never forgive you, but Seungcheol might. Your friends would - they’re loyal to you, especially Jeonghan and Angel. 

The older generation, though- 

You toss aside the thought almost as quickly as you thought of it - not because you don’t want to kill your father, but because it isn’t possible. Not just like that. There are too many pieces on the chessboard, too many domino effects spreading out in every direction if you take that route.

No. There is only a single path for you, set in motion by a hand with more power than you. 

And there’s only one way you can move forward with Soonyoung. 

There’s so much of your mother’s side of the family you’ve inherited. Her side has always been associated with the phoenix, the burning immortality of their name and their strength, a blazing glory. Your maternal relatives have always been the rage and the fire that was needed for a Syndicate to advance, a good partnership for the Choi’s who were cold and steadfast. 

What you need now is the winter of the mountain, not the rage of the phoenix. You need to be a Choi. 

Steadfast is the mountain. 

You love Soonyoung. You love him you love him you love him youlovehimyoulovehimyoulovehimYOULOVEHIMYOULOVEHIM- 

Pressing your fist to your mouth, you bite down for one, blinding moment of untapped rage. You feel your skin break, taste iron and salt, feel pain bloom. 

Steadfast is the mountain. 

Then it’s gone. You drop your hand from your mouth. Open your eyes. Turn off the shower. The rage is gone, buried beneath a layer of newly formed ice. If there is anyone you can do this for, it’s Soonyoung. You love him. You will destroy him. But he’ll be alive. 

Soonyoung is sitting on your bed when you open the door. He’s got a tablet in his hand, the holographic images displaying above the screen, haloing his face in blue light. There are circles under his eyes and his teeth worry at his bottom lip, which is chapped. He’s shirtless, the compact planes of his body half shadowed by the single shaft of light filtering through a window. 

He looks up at you but you ignore him, heading to your closet. The silence is brutal. You push through it, opening the closet doors to reveal a massive space nearly the same size of your bathroom. Track lights kick on, rows and rows of clothes by color greeting you. In the middle, there is an island counter, filled with drawers and biolocked jewelry safes. 

Soft steps tell you Soonyoung is standing at the entrance of the closet. You still don’t face him, walking over to your section of black clothes. You flick through them, eyes scanning. Black seems appropriate. It feels like death, afterall. 

Soonyoung’s voice is soft as his late night kisses. “What’s going on?” 

“I’m marrying Kim Yijun.” 

A beat passes. Then another. 

“Is that supposed to be a joke? I’m not interested in pranks this morning.”

“It’s not a prank.” You pull out a black, silk dress. “The Tower has asked this of me, and I’ll be doing it.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

You continue, undeterred as you put the dress back and keep looking. “The Kim family has agreed to the match ahead of the rising tensions with the Yong Syndicate and their new take on foreign allies. A united front of the old families will benefit our family-”

“You’re not fucking marrying Kim Yijun.” 

“All of the metrics we’ve run for public opinion and potential city-wide reaction are favorable. The Tower needs his children to fall in line, and I intend to do so.”

Soonyoung storms toward you. You turn on your heel, holding a finger out to him, voice severe, “Don’t come near me.” 

“Why? Because you know you’ll lose your resolve? Because the second I touch you, you’ll drop whatever bravado this is and let me help you?”

Exactly that. He knows you inside and out. Sees through the front. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need him to believe you, you need him to obey. 

He takes another step and you back up. “I will scream,” you threaten, venom in your voice. “I will scream and Seungcheol and Vernon are right down the hall. Whose side do you think they’ll take, with your reputation for violence?” 

“Fuck you, they know I’d never hurt you.”

You hear the waver in his voice. That tiny sliver of doubt, so small and tiny but there. They do know he would never hurt you, but Soonyoung isn’t convinced they’d believe him. It makes you sick, but you latch onto it, unspooling that tiny bit of hurt. “Do they, Soonyoung? I hear some of them call you a mad dog because you attack with no regard for anything. Do you really think they trust you entirely with me?”

Soonyoung is raging. His chest rising and falling, shaking his head back and forth as he tries to understand. You’re rooted to the spot, muscles coiled, pulse thudding in your throat. “You are not,” he growls. “Marrying Kim Yijun. You don’t even want to, don’t try to lie to me about your feelings or insult me thinking you can bait me. You love me. You are mine.” 

“I belong to the Choi family and it’s what my family needs from me. I will do my duty.”

“Fuck your family!” His roar makes you flinch, briefly closing your eyes. His palm slams on the top of the countertop in front of him, sharp in the silence. “You have a duty to me. I told you I would not fucking let you go. You’re not doing it. I’ll fucking kill him, you think I won’t? I’ll murder every last one of them-” 

“You don’t tell me what to do, Kwon Soonyoung. I will do this, and you will obey.” He bristles, going rigid as your words land like a slap. “When I say jump, you say how high. You’ve always known that.” 

For a second, he cracks. The Soonyoung you first saw on your doorstep, crying and round-cheeked and ruddy returns. His lip trembles and the way he looks at you nearly melts your iron will. You’re so close to collapsing, to laying it out before him, to risking it all. 

“Don’t do this to me.” His whisper is made of glass. Delicate. He presses his palm to his chest, right over his heart. Earnest. “I can’t - you know I can’t. I- please. I can’t do this.” 

Licking your lips, you look him in the eyes. His eyes are your favorite. Dark. Stormy. Endless. They are lined with silver, panic rippling across the surface. 

You lift your chin and push back your shoulders. “You can and you will, because I told you to jump, Soonyoung. Now ask how high.” 

Sunlight warms the back of your neck, humidity clinging to your skin like a second layer. You take a deep breath, though the steamy air offers no relief. You snap open a silk fan, waving it in front of your face in hopes of chasing away some of the sweat, feeling the separation between skin and makeup the longer you sit in the wretched heat of the garden. 

It’s not even real sunlight or heat. You can’t tell beyond the projection in the room, but you know that there are vents heating up the room and controls that make the air humid and sticky, making it feel like you’re sitting in a real garden outside somewhere lush. 

Lin drones on and on about something. You tuned her out long ago, eyes flickering back and forth to your watch and the women’s faces around you. None of them here are really your friend - not in the way Angel is, the way Wonwoo or Jeonghan are. 

Yet you’re expected to be here, entertaining the upper echelon wives of the Choi and Kim Syndicates, boiling away in an imaginary garden while you sweat to death, dress clinging to your skin and thighs slippery in the seat as you adjust yourself, uncomfortable. 

“It’s hot as a motherfucker,” a whispered voice comes from next to you. You look up to see the newly engaged heiress of Nexus Capital next to you, glaring behind the dark shade of her sunglasses as Lin continues rambling about something. “Couldn’t she have made it less real?”

A smirk twitches on your lips. You haven’t spoken to her much, but her recent engagement to Xu Minghao had secured the position the Choi Syndicate had been fighting for in the shipping yards and docks with the Yong family, elevating her family into the favored circle of your father.

Suddenly, you remember who had recommended that marriage in the first place. You remember the party, the pretty dress you wore, Soonyoung’s hand briefly on your waist as he kissed you goodbye for a meeting. You had no idea then that your throwaway comment about an arranged marriage to benefit your family would become your own nightmare under an hour later.

Grief is a funny thing. You never knew that you could feel grief for someone who isn’t dead, yet sometimes you feel such an overwhelming amount of grief at the hole that Soonyoung has left behind that you can’t breathe. 

Throat dry, you reach for water, drinking eagerly. You feel a bead of water run down your face, but you ignore it in favor of trying to focus on not panicking. 

Anxiety attacks are new for you. Though your entire life has been colored with stressful situations unique to growing up in a criminal Syndicate, you could never say that you were anxious before. At least not in the way that made the back of your neck too hot and the tips of your fingers buzz with the threat of a looming meltdown. 

You ignore it. It’s all you know how to do. The anxiety medication your therapist gave you doesn't work, and you can’t crush a bunch of pills and inhale them anytime you feel like you’re about to get tunnel vision and spiral. 

Well, you suppose you can, but you’re trying not to get into the habit. 

Instead of acknowledging the way the panic lurks around your edges like a predator waiting to pounce, you listen to the dull conversation around you. Focus on the gossip that you don’t care about, exactly, but know it’s good to have. 

Since marrying into the Kim family, you’re not sure what your job is. With your family, your role as the face, the legacy and the representation of the Choi Syndicate had always been clear and obvious. Now, your husband sends you to stupid things like this with preening people that you don’t like and makes you leave events early when he’s irritable. 

Gossip is a weapon, though. So you gather it when you can, taking in bits of information and storing it for yourself. Rarely do you offer it to Yijun - not that he would take it - but Jeonghan finds the information you share useful. So does Angel, but there’s rarely anything you know that she doesn’t. 

Just as your anxiety begins to fade, the source of it materializes. 

At first, you think you’re seeing things when a door appears in the wall depicting an apple orchard and Soonyoung strolls out into the fake-sun. You blink dumbly, spine tingling as you realize that your mind is not playing tricks on you and it is him. 

He sees you immediately. His dark eyes burn like embers, pinning you to the spot. His face remains motionless but you see his jaw tick, the only sign that he is immediately on edge when he sees you. He’s dressed for work in an all black suit, required for the Swords of the Choi family. 

Giggles breakout around the table as he approaches, the ladies around you all flushed cheeks and demure smiles. You feel the buzzing start in your hands again, this time worse. It goes up your arms, working its way to your chest as the anxiety increases tenfold, heart pounding.

Soonyoung bows. “I beg your pardon, ladies.” 

“My goodness, Soonyoung,” Lin preens. “You must be horribly hot in that suit, but you do look handsome.”

You fight the urge to snarl at her that the imitation of the garden isn’t real and no amount of pretending will make it real. You even imagine reaching across the table and plunging her fish knife into her hand. Instead, you watch Soonyoung, your hummingbird heart fluttering. 

He gives her a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be alright. I apologize for interrupting, but the Tower of the Choi family has sent me to escort his daughter home.” 

“Home?” 

“The Choi Estate.” 

He doesn’t say what he means: the Kim Estate is not your home. 

“Alright,” you say, voice reedy. Your hands are trembling as you slide your chair from the table, the metal legs grinding loudly against concrete. You flinch at the sound, hyper aware of every bead of sweat crawling down your spine, every beat of your heart that is too fast, too hard.

Static fills you as you mumble parting words to the women who watch you in confusion. At least, you think you mumble your goodbyes. Blood rushes in your ears as you take uneven steps toward Soonyoung, who turns on his heel and starts marching toward the apple orchard. 

It feels like you’re in an echo chamber. Everything suddenly feels hollow and everything sounds as though you’re hearing it through a thin wall. Muted. Dull. He opens the door that you can’t quite spot even this close, ushering you inside as your vision starts tunneling to a narrow point, everything else blurry and distorted. 

No. No no no no no. 

Lifting your hands, you glance down at them to see them trembling, opening and closing your fists in an attempt to stop the buzzing feeling, as though you could will it away. You think Soonyoung says something but you can’t hear him over the roar of panic that grips you and tears you sideways.

Instead of following him down the hall, you lurch toward a different hall, rushing toward the powder room. It feels like the walls are narrowing as you throw open the door, breath coming out in pants. Everything feels tight and compact, crushing smaller still. 

Stumbling to the sink you try to turn the faucet on. Once. Twice. Cold water spits from the faucet and you gasp, leaning down over the sink to splash freezing water into your face. It doesn’t have the desired effect, the water is not cool enough to shock you out of your panic. 

Soonyoung speaks behind you. You can’t hear him, the grip of your anxiety so strong that you grab the edges of the sink to keep you up right. You’re heaving now, heart rattling so hard you think that maybe you’re having a heart attack instead. 

A firm grip wretches your attention from the porcelain sink to the mirror, where you see your dripping reflection, eyes blown like saucers. Soonyoung is standing behind you, a hand on your bicep, squeezing. His face is no longer a mask of indifference, but one of confusion. 

His mouth moves and you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “I can’t,” you gasp, ragged. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” 

Then, he does something that catches you entirely off guard. You watch in slow motion as he steps back and removes the gun from the holster underneath his suit jacket. You hear the safety on the gun click and the hum as the weapon charges, ready to fire rounds of plasma if he squeezes the trigger. 

And then he points the gun at your head, the lights on it flipping from blue to red, signaling it’s ready to kill. 

The world stops. The panic vanishes for a split second, replaced with utter shock as you stare at him in the mirror. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you demand, voice stronger than you expect. 

Soonyoung is ten levels of crazy, but he’s never pointed a gun at you before. You stare at him, open-mouthed and wondering if he’ll do it. If he could pull the trigger. He’d told you a hundred times when you were together that he would never let you go and it was always with clarity that you understood what he meant: it’s me or no one. 

With stark clarity, you realize there’s no reason for Soonyoung not to pull the trigger. He doesn’t care much about the value of his own life from what you can glean over the last two years, and he doesn’t really seem to care about yours. 

Not that he should. You promised to make him feel human and you did. Then you took it away from him, leaving him adrift in a vast ocean of nothing alone and untethered. 

No, you don’t think you inspire Soonyoung to feel human anymore. If anything, you probably make him want to be the worst version of himself. 

Soonyoung’s voice holds no emotion when he asks, “Are you with me?”

“Why are you pointing a gun at me?” 

“Breathe,” he says instead. He doesn’t lower the weapon, stormy eyes focused on yours. “Breathe,” he repeats. “Slowly, maybe.” 

“Soonyoung, you are holding a gun at me, what do you mean breathe?” 

“What do you mean what do I mean? I mean what I fucking said. Breathe normally.”

“Lower the gun!” He does. “What the fuck?”

He breaks eye contact, sliding the weapon back into his suit jacket. He turns away from you as though he didn’t have you at gunpoint a second ago. “You were having a panic attack. Sometimes a shock to the system stalls it. Your breathing has slowed down now. And you’re not panicking.” 

A beat of silence passes. Then, “So you leveled a gun at my head?” 

“It worked. Let’s go.”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“Yes. Now let’s go. You’re needed at the Choi Estate.”

“Why?” 

“Do I look like I have all the answers? I just do what I’m told. When a Choi says jump, remember?”

You visibly flinch as his words land. Soonyoung doesn’t wait for you to gather yourself, spinning on his heel and exiting the powder room to stride through the halls. Tightness gathers in your chest, left over from your anxiety attack. 

Pressing your hands against your dress to wipe the sweat from them, you chase after Soonyoung. He’s already by the apartment’s elevator, jamming his finger into the button. He doesn’t look at you as he waits, content to stare at the metal door. 

You don’t know where else to look - you want to look anywhere but him. Turning around, you fixate on the floor to ceiling windows. It’s still morning outside, but it’s hard to tell with the way the clouds block out the view, turning everything to mist. 

This high up in the city is reserved for the elite. You can’t imagine why - there’s nothing to look at but clouds, clouds, and more clouds. It’s what makes them have virtual reality rooms in the first place, trying to recreate the experience that they might have if they were wealthy enough to own land. 

The sound of the elevator arriving makes you flinch. Soonyoung ignores you, getting in and leaning against the wall as he hits a button to go to the parking garage. You scramble in after him, a little breathless as the doors close just behind you. 

Immediately you start shooting down several floors. He glares at the wall, unseeing and unfeeling. You swallow thickly, watching the numbers decrease until you’re at Lin’s private parking garage. Soonyoung is out of the elevator before it finishes opening all the way, storming toward the car he’s left running idle. 

Normally someone would open a car door for you. Instead, Soonyoung gets in the driver’s seat and slams the door shut. You reach for the handle of the passenger seat and pause. Normally you sit in the back when being driven somewhere, it’s always been like that. But this is Soonyoung and you’ve always been beside him in the car, his equal. 

A muffled get in the fucking car reaches you. Deciding that sitting next to him is too personal, you open the back seat and slide in. You’ve barely shut the door when he punches the gas, slamming you into the back of the seat as he goes. 

“Would you stop being an asshole?” you seethe, ripping the seatbelt from next to you to buckle in. Your hands are still shaking and it takes a moment for the clasp to click.

Instead of answering, you hear the way the car accelerates under his foot. Scowling, you look out the window. He speeds into the lift that brings the car down to the ground floor. Lights blur by as the lift drops at lurching speed, your stomach in your throat. You hate coming to apartments for this reason, the feeling of having to freefall to leave never growing on you. 

It’s raining when the lift opens to the wet street. Soonyoung peels out on the pavement, tires spinning until they gain traction and the car slides onto the road, narrowly missing someone. You slam against the seatbelt, cursing and clinging onto the door as he pushes the gas down, engine roaring.

“Are you trying to kill us?”

Soonyoung doesn’t answer you. You think it might be because he’s not explicitly trying to kill the two of you, but he doesn’t care if he does. You try not to think about it so much as he powers through the streets of the Upper City, driving past towering businesses, luxury districts with entertainment and bars and apartment buildings. 

The road starts to incline and you hit a line of trees. The city vanishes behind you as Soonyoung drives the car up the winding road, leaving a world of metal and lights for greenery and earth. The contrast between the cities below and the Estates above is stark, especially as he drive’s higher up the mountain, snatches of the city below visible. 

“Why did you come to get me?” you ask, flicking your gaze to the rearview mirror to watch him. Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the road, but you see his mouth tighten. “Last I checked you’re not an errand boy.”

“So what, you check on me?”

“It’s a figure of speech, you know what I mean.”

“The Tower personally requested I come get you.” 

That gives you pause. Soonyoung’s face reveals nothing as he turns on the street that will inevitably lead to the massive metal wall that blocks off the world from the Choi Estate. There can only be a single reason why Soonyoung was sent to fetch you when usually your husband’s staff would do so.

“What’s happened?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he rolls the window down at the guard house to show his face. The security team recognizes him immediately, waving him through as the gate begins to slide open to reveal lush, green jungle. 

Gravel crunches underneath the car tires as he drives through the winding foliage on Choi grounds. Your great-great-grandfather had built the Choi compound, the first of the few elite houses on the mountain. He thought it was important to keep the plant life and sprawling greenery to conserve, but you knew it was really about power. Symbolism. Greenery didn’t really exist in the city, and this much space and plantlife meant wealth. 

The sprawling estate you grew up in reveals itself. Multiple buildings dot the property, making it more a family compound than an estate. Now that Seungcheol is old enough, he’s moved out of the main house and into one of the smaller homes, occupying the space with his own men and staff. Still, he’s just a brief stroll away from your childhood home.

Home. Even two years under a Kim family banner hasn’t erased the feeling of home for you. There is nothing in the house you share with Yijun that makes it feel like you. It is as devoid of love as your marriage, merely a placeholder for you to sleep, eat, and occasionally, try to produce an heir. 

Soonyoung pulls up to the long building that serves as a garage, hitting a button on the car’s screen to open one of the bays. He pulls in slowly, the outside world fading as the garage door shuts behind the car, dousing it in darkness until the neon lights above flicker on. 

Without a word, he powers off the vehicle and gets out. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders and get out of the car. He doesn’t wait for you - even shuts the door as he enters the main house so you’re forced to lug it open. 

He’s already opening the door to the main house a few yards away, forcing you again to haphazardly navigate gravel in your heels as you give chase. You’re sweating and irritated by the time you’re up the steps and pushing through the front door, a nasty quip on your lips ready until you see your aunt coming down the stairs. 

“Oh thank goodness,” she says, seeing you. She looks older than you remember, the lines of her face deep and the hair at her temples gray. “Come along.”

“What’s going on?” you ask, uncertain as you step into the foyer and let her take your arm. 

She scowls. “Did that useless boy not tell you? Your mother suffered a heart attack this morning. She’s with Dr. Ymir in the medical wing.”

Your heart thuds to a stop as you wheel around to look over your shoulder at Soonyoung. His gaze is stormy but his face gives away nothing as he turns to leave the way he came, slamming the front door and vanishing down the steps to leave you alone. 

“No,” you mumble as your aunt pulls you down the hall. “He didn’t tell me.” 

Because that’s how much Soonyoung hates you. Hate isn’t even the right word, you think. It is something far deeper and far more sinister, fueled only by taking away something that he valued more than anything else in the world and forcing him to live with it. 

I deserve this, you think as the door to one of the private medical rooms opens, a clinical smell hitting you in the face. I deserve everything that happens to me. 

I deserve this. It’s all you can think of as you watch the black casket lower into the ground. Seungcheol stands beside you, his hands linked in front of him. You want to reach out and take his hand in yours, but you don’t want him to look weak. Don’t want others to see him crack like you know he will if you comfort him. 

Instead, you comfort yourself as best you can, which isn’t saying much. You’ve never been good at dealing with your feelings, too much of your mother’s blood running through you. It was your father’s least favorite trait of yours and perhaps Soonyoung’s favorite.

Soonyoung, who has always been your emotional tether and outlet. You’re not accustomed to dealing with grief alone, and the pull of it feels like an undertow threatening to drag you under and drown you. 

Someone shifts behind you, close enough that you feel Yijun next to you stiffen. You turn to look over your shoulder, blinking in surprise as you tilt your head up to see Soonyoung. He doesn’t look at you, dark eyes fixed forward and jaw flexing tightly. He’s standing closer than is necessary, as shown by your husband’s scoff. 

Soonyoung doesn’t move, though. He remains nearly pressed against your back, so close that you can smell vanilla and sandalwood. Turning away from him, you feel your shoulders relax. He ignores you, but he’s there, a stoic guardian that’s just out of reach.

The Tower of the Choi Syndicate is too lost in his grief to notice or care about Soonyoung’s proximity to you. Your brother couldn’t care less, barely realizing that his brother by choice is an inch away from him. But you know Soonyoung is there and that’s all that matters. 

The grief lessens, turning back from churning waters to gentle, lapping waves.

“Your brother doesn’t respect me,” Yijun asserts. You look at him in the bathroom mirror. He’s standing behind you in the closet, taking out glinting cufflinks to replace them in the countertop in the middle of the aisles of clothes. “You should work on that.”

“Seungcheol hardly takes what I say to heart.”

Yijun snorts, detecting the lie before you can even get it out. Seungcheol very much values your insight and opinion far more than he’s interested in Yijun’s. He’s made it clear at multiple parties and events now, often asking you how business is and how the shared Kim-Choi accounts are doing, despite not having anything to do with them. 

Seungcheol hates your role within the Kim family. On more than one occasion he’s recommended Yijun make use of you somewhere in the family business, to make you the head of operation somewhere so that your schooling and experience weren’t going to waste. Yijun asserted that your social skills were being put to perfect use, entertaining the wives of his associates and serving as the perfect host when his business colleagues and friends were over. 

“He’s going to be leading the family soon,” Yijun sighs. “It would be better for us if he saw me as a real ally.”

“He does see you as an ally. You’re married to his sister.”

“Exactly, so you should remind him that I’m family.” It doesn’t sound like a threat, but it also doesn’t sound like a request. Sighing, you shut the drawer in the counter forcefully. It draws his attention, gaze darkening. “Don’t you want your brother to respect your husband?”

No, you think. You don’t respect your husband, so why should Seungcheol?

Instead, you sigh. “Of course, Yi.” He doesn’t soften at the nickname. “I’ll talk to him, alright? He’s got a lot going on. And don’t talk about my father’s health that way.”

“I didn’t say anything about his health.”

“Please,” you snort. “I know what you meant about Cheol taking over soon.” 

Yijun had been talking about Seungcheol more and more. You’ve watched with a sour taste in your mouth as your husband tries to earn your brother’s attention and trust, flashing what he thinks Seungcheol cares about in his face, telling him about the new car he acquired, or the historical art piece you purchased at an auction, and the new apartment building he’s constructing. 

Seungcheol doesn’t give a fuck about any of that. The Choi family never has. Your ancestors didn’t make a name for themselves and carve it on the mountain they built their home on by showing off their wealth and what it could do for them. They did it by earning it, and by remaining steadfast and intelligent. Political. 

Yijun understands none of that. As the eldest son of his family, it’s a shame. The real world of the Syndicates is lost on him. He has enough business acumen to run companies under his father’s careful tutelage and instruction, but he doesn’t have the social savvy for it, the right drive. 

His brother does. You think of Kim Minchan and nearly shiver. The middle child of the Kim family has more than enough understanding of the way that things work, but the ocean of blood behind him is enough for you to prefer Yijun leading the Kim Syndicate any day. 

“I’m just saying,” Yijun grunts, flicking off the lights in the closet. “Your brother has all the reason in the world to respect me and he doesn’t.” He looks at you, face hardening. “Do you tell him not to? Is that what it is? His baby sister tells him how useless her husband is?” 

Danger is in the air. Yijun won’t lay a hand on you, but it doesn’t make this dance any less stressful. You turn away from the mirror, looking at him fully. He’s not terrible to look at - he has a sharp jaw and a broad nose and a pleasant shaped mouth. He’s handsome, even. 

He’s not Kwon Soonyoung. 

Swallowing away the thought, you reach up to put your hands on his chest, placating. “I wouldn’t do that,” you assure him, softening your voice. You hate the sound of your voice, hate the way you pitch it low and gentle. “You’re a reflection of me too. I would never let my brother think any of those things about my husband.” 

Yijun swats your hands away, making you grit your teeth. “Don’t act like a whore. Just - tell your brother. I should be in his inner circle by now. Make it happen.” 

As Yijun leaves the bathroom, the urge to grab him by his collar and yank him back in to smash his head on the counter almost wins. You stare at him until he vanishes in the bedroom, your rage a live, sentient thing. You feel it crawl beneath your skin, slithering and clawing and biting and begging to be let out. 

Steady is the mountain. You take that fire and shove it down. Years of instinct of reacting with your mother’s temper peter out slowly. It’s a shame - you’re the last woman left from her side of the family, the only one who can carry the fire of the phoenix. 

You glare at the bedroom. Somewhere, Yijun lurks, getting into bed. Oh how the shadows of the weak choke out the fire of the strong. 

If killing Yijun wouldn’t risk everything, you’d have done it already. That first month spent with him where you realized this would not only be a loveless marriage, but a hateful one had almost driven you to it. The Choi Syndicate could surely survive a war with the Kim Syndicate - you had better assets, stronger loyalties, and more money. 

But if the Kim family turned to the Yong family… 

Avoiding unification of the Kim and Yong families is why you were married to Kim Yijun in the first place. To murder him now would mean Syndicate war, and despite the fact that every moment with him is hateful and poisonous, you’re too nervous to put your family at risk. 

Especially with your father’s failing health, as Yijun had pointed out. 

Syndicate war isn’t the only thing keeping you from stabbing Kim Yijun until you can’t feel anything anymore. Minchan’s shadow of a presence lingers over your thoughts, one of the few threats you truly fear. Any harm to his brother would elevate Minchan to a position where he could only wield his power more. 

And he’d hunt you like a bloodhound. You’re unsure if there is any corner of the world he would leave unturned if you killed his brother, no matter how much it would benefit him if Yijun keeled over tomorrow. 

Inside your bedroom is dark. It doesn’t feel like your bedroom at all. There’s nothing homey about it, no possession or unique decor, no pictures. You wouldn’t sleep in here at all if Yijun didn’t make you, insisting that he couldn’t trust any of the house staff not to tell your father you weren’t sleeping in the same room. 

Your father doesn’t care. He stopped caring about anything the day you put your mother into the dirt. Even if he hadn’t, as long as your relationship looked functional to whom it mattered, it mattered little to him if you slept in the same room or if you even liked Kim Yijun.

He’d made that very clear the day he tore away your future with Soonyoung. 

Yijun is already snoring when you climb into bed. You grind your teeth, reaching to pull open the nightstand for noise cancelling earbuds and sleep medication. The medication isn’t as strong as the crushed up knockout you might have used previously, but it helps take the edge off without making you vulnerable to attack. 

Which is something you still worry about. 

Setting your phone on silent, you settle in for sleep. It takes a long time, but you finally drift away to thinking about smothering the man next to you in his sleep. 

Something wakes you. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you sit up in bed and look around the room. It’s dark, but you can see the barely-there outlines of the furniture in your bedroom. Next to you, Yijun is gone. You can feel the lack of presence there more than you can see it, reaching your hand over to confirm the bed is cold and that he’s not been there for a while. 

You reach for the phone on your nightstand but can’t find it. Frowning, you press your hand on the cool marble, sweeping back and forth to no avail. You lean further, finger finding the button to the light function on the stand and press down. 

Dim, lavender light halos the top of the nightstand. Your phone is nowhere in sight. It’s just your jewelry dish, a decanter for water, and your sleep medication. You’re pretty sure that you put your phone face down before you went to bed, but you can’t be sure. 

Pulling open the nightstand drawer only makes the back of your neck sweat. Your phone isn’t there, but neither is the gun you keep in the top drawer. Both you and Yijun sleep armed, despite having armed guards on the premises at all times. 

Snapping the drawer shut, you roll to the other side of the bed and pull his open. A book, a watch, some pill bottles and a pack of cigarettes fill the drawer. No gun. 

The back of your neck tingles. You rip the sheets off of you, heading to the bedroom door. The house is mostly dark when you open it, the entire second floor dim. Leaning over the banister, you can see a shaft of light falling across the room, perhaps coming from the kitchen. 

Quietly, you stalk toward the top of the stairwell, trying to reduce noise as you creep down. A high pitched whine rings in your ears, heart thundering. You have no idea why you’re so afraid all of the sudden, especially in your own house, but your instincts tell you to be alert and quiet. 

At the foot of the stairs, you confirm the light is coming from the kitchen. It’s not uncommon for people to be in the house in the middle of the night. Official Syndicate business happens at any time, and often goes into the early hours of morning. 

Tonight, it’s not busy. Before you’d gone upstairs to bed, you’d noted that it was a skeleton crew security team for the night, just a few of them at the gate house and walking the premises while you and Yijun returned upstairs for the evening alone. 

Creeping toward the hallway, you pause when you hear voices. You identify Yijun’s voice right away, holding your breath and straining your hearing as he says, “What do you want me to do here?” 

“Keep her contained. Make sure no one from her family can reach her.”

“I already took her phone and her gun.”

Your stomach drops. “Good.” That’s Minchan’s voice, you realize, dread growing tenfold. “The second she finds out the Tower has fallen, she’ll try to run or her brother will try to get her.”

“Or that psycho fuck,” Yijun mutters. 

“You’d be lucky if it was Seungcheol who came to get her. If Kwon Soonyoung comes looking, call me immediately. We’ll make our move in two hours. We’ve got the biggest team outside the Choi estate ready to go in and we’ve got men and women stationed at all the key points.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit here and babysit my wife?”

“Yes.” Minchan’s tone is nonnegotiable. “We’ll leave the guards at the gatehouse but we can’t spare anyone else. This kind of assault requires everyone. The Yong family will take care of the Pearl District and the Salt.” 

Yijun hesitates. “What about the Yoon family? Are they all accounted for?” 

“Yes. I have a team on the crazy one - what do they call her?”

“Angel, I think.”

Minchan laughs. “Demon is more fitting. Stay here. Stay by your phone. We’ll call thirty minutes before we give the signal to link everyone on comms. We do this right, and the Choi Syndicate is gone.” 

Panic presses in for a moment. Your heart hammers. Your hands shake. Bile churns your stomach. It feels like you can’t get enough air, the pieces of what they're talking about falling into place.

The Tower has fallen.

Your father is dead, and in the wake of the crushing blow, the Kim family intends to strike at yours alongside the Yong family. The realization lands like a blow, immediately slapping you out of your panic. 

Fear turns to rage. Rage turns to ice. You are fire, you are the mountain. 

Steadfast is the mountain, but the fire does burn. 

As quietly as you can, you creep up the stairs. You keep turning over your shoulder to ensure Minchan doesn’t leave the kitchen and catch you creeping back toward your bedroom. When you hit the second floor landing, you all but sprint to your room, gears turning. 

Yijun took your phone and intends to keep you locked in the house until they finish their plan. From their discussion, you know they intend to mobilize within two hours, targeting important members of the Choi Syndicate across the city with the help of the Yong family. 

It means you have only a few minutes to warn your family to respond, to prepare and to fight back or strike first. Which is hard to do without a phone, but your husband doesn’t know you nearly as well as he thinks.

Door closed behind you, you flip the lock on the bedroom door and dash for the closet. The lights above come to life, bathing you in ghoulish, grey light. You dive to the floor toward your shelf holding all of your shoes, the carpet burns nothing compared to the pain starting to bloom behind your sternum where your grief builds slowly under your anger. 

Your father is dead. The Kims are going to turn on you anyway. Your marriage to Kim Yijun to secure alliances against the Yong family was for nothing.

You’ve endured for nothing. 

Snatching a pair of boots, you swallow down the bile again. You will not break now, not when there are more important things than the time you’ve wasted withering away in this cold home. Shoving your hand inside the boot, you come into contact with what you were looking for. Your hand closes around the device, yanking it out and powering it on. 

The screen flashes to life. You press one and hold, hearing the buzz on the phone as it begins to ring. You cradle the phone against your shoulder and ear, nearly sick with the adrenaline that is pounding through you, your vision blurring, hands shaking. 

You grab another shoe, this time reaching inside carefully instead of shoving your hand in. The smooth, bone handle of a knife meets your hand and you wrap your fingers around it firmly, pulling it out. 

Soonyoung answers on the fourth ring. “Where are you?” 

“The Kim family has turned on the Chois. They’re mobilizing for a full scale attack in roughly two hours. The Yong family is helping them. They’re at the estate and all over the city - anyone who is important to us regardless of position will need to be warned. The Yong family is handling the Pearl District and the Salt.” 

“How many men are at Yijun’s estate?” You can hear him moving on the other side of the line, something rustling. Perhaps clothes as he gets dressed. “Are you armed?” 

“There are men at the guard house and one walking the perimeter. It’s just me and Yijun inside, I think Minchan is leaving. I’ve got a knife.” 

“Where are you in the house?” 

“Bedroom, second landing to the right and all the way at the end of the hall. There are windows but they don’t open.” 

“Listen to me,” Soonyoung says, voice like ice. “The second we start moving into position to accept the assault, they’ll know something is off. When that happens, Yijun is going to try to kill you, do you understand?” When you say nothing, he asks again, voice louder. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes.”

“I need you to fight back. Either kill him or hold him off until I’m there.” 

“You need to warn-”

“Don’t worry about the fucking Syndicate! We’ll be fine. You’ve given us more than enough time. I need you to be entirely focused on yourself.”

You take a deep breath, letting it out shakily. “Okay.”

“Do you have frostbyte?”

“Maybe? Yijun might have it in the nightstand.”

“Take some. Not enough to fuck you up, but enough to pump that adrenaline and make your head clear. I will be there in thirty minutes.” 

“Okay.” 

You squeeze the phone, unwilling to hang up. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t heard his voice in months. It doesn’t matter that he hates you, it doesn’t matter that you know whatever used to be between you is broken and it’s entirely your fault. You just… don’t want to hang up. 

“Hey.” Soonyoung’s voice is soft, drawing you from your trembling spiral. “Do what I said. Do the frostbyte and kill him if you have to. I have to go.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” Soonyoung pauses, the silence heavy on the line. “I love you.” 

Nothing breaks you like those words, whispered but firm, whispered in case you die before he gets there. He doesn’t have to say that’s why he’s saying it - you know. You know the chance of him not getting there fast enough is likely and real. He does too, but instead of telling you, he gives you this. 

You whisper back, “I love you.” 

Soonyoung hangs up the phone and you fight a sob. You bring the knife up to your hand, pressing your pointer finger down on the tip. The sting is immediate, making you his in pain as blood beads on the tip of your finger, red and garish in the closet lighting. 

The sting grounds you enough to push yourself from the floor, following Soonyoung’s directions to Yijun’s nightstand. You yank it open, rattling around the contents until you find the bag of frostbyte you were hoping was there. Yijun uses it the nights he attempts to put an heir in you, numbing himself the way you never did, taking your punishment for what you’d done to Soonyoung raw.

Not enough to fuck me up, you think, untwisting the bag and shaking. Just enough to make it easier. 

Dipping the tip of your knife into the bag, you pull out a small lump of the glittering drug. You try not to think about that night at the club all those years ago, when you and Soonyoung were still dancing around one another’s feelings, doing anything you could to get a reaction out of one another. 

You take a sharp breath in. The drug hits your nasal passage and it burns, your eyes smarting as you tilt your head up, cursing and blinking away the tears. It hits the back of your throat, bitter and awful as you cough a little, trying to wait for it to clear your nasal passage.

When the burning subsides a little, you do it again. It’s less harsh than the first bump but still just as awful, making you wonder how the fuck you did this on the weekend with your friends as a teenager. Tossing the back on the nightstand, you stand waiting, closing your eyes and trying to do deep breathing exercises your therapist taught you to calm down. 

Frostbyte works fast. It hits your bloodstream and an electric calm comes over you. Everything comes into sharper focus, the adrenaline pumping as your simmering rage turns to a boil, ready to kick the fucking door down and hunt down Yijun yourself.

Nerves fade away to the background of your mind. You walk toward the door, waiting to the side so when Yijun ultimately kicks it down, you’re ready. 

Ten minutes pass. The entire time your ears are ringing, heart thundering in your chest. You think the frostbyte was a good idea - if you had to wait in silence like this without it, you would have gone crazy by now. Even with the drug, fear nips at your ankles, a hound ever on your tail. 

Yijun’s footsteps thunder up the stairs. Your heart lurches and you inch away from the door, readying yourself. He storms down the hall, fury in each step until he gets to the door and turns the handle. It doesn’t move. He tries a few more times, shaking the door. 

His roar on the other side of the door is loud and feral, making you grin as he thrashes against the door, cursing and screaming at you. The door holds, rattling in place as he slams what you think is his shoulder into it multiple times. 

The bombardment pauses for a second and then restarts ten times stronger. This time, you recognize that it’s his foot slamming into the side of the door. You realize he’s kicking where the door is latched, trying to break it open instead of kicking through it. 

A small crack sounds. You take a breath, readying yourself as you hear another snap go through the door, now rattling loose in its frame. He kicks hard again and the door blows open, nearly smacking you as it does. You roll away from it on the wall, keeping close as Yijun barrels past you, swinging his head from left to right as he looks for you.

It’s your only chance to get the jump on him. You slide from the dark, heart hammering. You’ve never stabbed anyone before, but you’ve practiced. You drive the knife upward, intending to puncture his kidneys. Yijun twists a little to the side, sensing your presence as the knife plunges into his side. 

Yijun screams. Your satisfaction only lasts a second before he throws his elbow backward, catching you in the nose. Pain explodes in your face, blinding you as your eyes water and you stumble backward hands shooting to your face. 

Removing the knife from his side, Yijun screams at you, spit flying as he comes at you. Through tears and warm blood rushing from your nose, you reach for anything to use as a weapon. Your hand closes on the ceramic artwork on the dresser and you launch it at him, hitting him hard in the face. 

The ceramic shatters and he drops the knife. You dive for it but he grabs you by the hair, ripping you upward and backward like a ragdoll. You lose your footing, screaming as he tightens his fist in your hair and drags you toward the bed, tossing you there. 

With a feral shout, you kick your foot forward, catching him in the lower gut. He grunts but wraps his hand around your ankle, yanking you back off the bed onto the floor, where the knife lays. You reach for it, seething, your hands managing to close around it just as he pivots, foot landing against your ribcage. 

Again, pain explodes inside of you. With the frostbyte, you barely recognize it, grabbing the knife and stabbing him in the calf. He shrieks and collapses to a knee, reaching for the knife. This time you rip it back out, nearly losing your grip on the bone handle, fingers slippery with blood. 

You stab him again, this time in the thigh. His knee presses into your stomach, crushing you and forcing air from your lungs. You ignore the pain, stabbing him again and again in the thigh until he falls backward off of you, muscles malfunctioning, tendons give away. 

Yijun kicks out at you with his good leg but you’re already moving, ignoring the way your body is screaming in utter agony, every part of you throbbing and begging you to give up. 

You don’t. You scramble on top of him. His hands shoot up to your throat but you spit at him, a spray of blood blinding him and making his grip loosen momentarily. It’s enough to bring the knife down home again, this time directly in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

For a second, he fights back. You hear the wet gasp and he thrashes, but you stab him again. And again and again and again and again -

You think about all of the times that you were forced to submit to him. 

And again and again and again - 

The way he heaved himself on top of you, trying to force a child into you so he could be done with you, the way you’d wish it had been Soonyoung instead. 

And again and again and again - 

The way Soonyoung’s face broke that morning, begging you not to do this to him. 

And again and again and again -

All for the Kim family to turn on the Choi’s anyway, wasting the entire time you’ve spent under lock and key, doing Yijun’s bidding while Soonyoung hated you. Loathed you. Wish you never happened to him. 

Again and AGAINANDAGAINANDAGAINAND- 

Yijun isn’t moving under you. Your hand is warm and wet, the knife becoming slippery as you let it go. It clatters to the floor and you sit backward on his knees. He’s unmoving as you heave, sucking down air that tastes like iron and salt. 

Sweat slicks the back of your neck and down your spine. Somewhere in the house, there’s a crashing noise. You leap for the knife, rolling off of Yijun’s mutilated body toward the door, positioning yourself in a defensive position as feet thunder up the stairs. 

You bare your teeth, knowing this is it. Knowing Soonyoung hasn’t come quickly enough but it doesn’t matter, because you warned them and they are safe. Your penance for destroying him has been paid in half, though never full, and -

Soonyoung appears in the doorway. He looks like an angel from hell, wreathed in shallow light that comes from the first floor, his silver hair stained with blood. He’s in black trousers and a short-sleeve shirt with his favorite band on it - one of his sleep shirts. 

For less than a second, he stares at you. Then, Soonyoung dives at you, dropping the gun in his head and grabbing you. You hadn’t realized that you’d sunk to your knees, looking up at him as he grabs your face, turning you this way and that. He’s asking you a question but you can’t understand him, dizzy and confused and in so much pain that the edge of your vision wavers. 

“Baby,” Soonyoung begs, his voice warped and echoey. “Hey, I need you to answer me. Where are you bleeding?” 

“S’mostly his,” you answer, feeling how heavy your tongue is. Your thoughts are sticky and slow. Concussed, you think. “Maybe broke my nose.” 

Soonyoung’s thumb brushes gently across your cheek, smearing blood. “Can you walk if I help you?”  You think about it. Shake your head. “Okay. I’m going to lift you up, alright? Tell me where it hurts so I don’t hurt you, Baby.” 

“Ribs.” 

“Left or right?” 

You pause, breathing in and feeling the pain bloom. “Right.” 

“Okay, tell me if I hurt you, okay? We’re going to take you home.”

“Thank you.” Soonyoung hesitates at your tone, looking at you. His eyes are vulnerable and open, more raw than you have seen them since you were kids. “You didn’t have to come get me.” 

He stares and stares at you. The world fades a little and Soonyoung lifts you toward him. “Of course I did,” he murmurs, so soft you barely hear what he’s saying. “When you say jump, remember?”

“Where's this?” You mumble, looking out the window at a small home behind high gates.

Soonyoung has been driving for an hour and a half, his silence nearly unbearable as you both left the city. You don’t ask about where you’re going or if everyone is okay - you don’t think you can stomach the answers right now. Not while in the car. 

Rain mists through the window as Soonyoung rolls it down to punch in a code in front of the gate. It flashes green and the metal starts to roll open, revealing a large but modest house - at least by Syndicate standards. He drives through, gravel crunching beneath the tires. 

“Safe House. Very few people know it exists.” 

“Are we in Levin?” He nods his head. You’ve never been to the small town, but you know it’s mostly a vacation village on the coast. “Who does this place belong to?” 

“Me.” You look at him, surprised. “I bought it when you… got engaged.” 

It’s like a stone sinking to the bottom of your stomach. You don’t have to ask why. It was his failsafe for you, a way to get you away from Yijun if you had just asked. 

You should have asked. Should have just thrown it away and called him, should have begged him from your knees- 

Soonyoung turns the car off and opens the door. You open yours, rain pattering against your red skin. He rushes to help you out of the car, hands hovering around you, unsure where to touch. It makes you want to sob. You want him to touch you anywhere - everywhere. 

Instead, he leads you to the house, a hand wrapped firmly around your forearm to keep you upright and steady as you walk up the steps. 

A porch light flickers on. You cringe away from the brightness, squinting through your fingers as the door opens to reveal Vernon standing on the other side. His eyes flicker between the two of you and he nods, stepping to the side to let you in. 

Warmth blankets you as Soonyoung shuts the door. You’re standing in a small entryway with a staircase to the right leading to the second floor. Straight on, the lights are on, revealing a sliver of the living room. You can hear voices pause as they hear the door shut. 

Angel materializes in the doorway, her hair damp. She’s dressed down like she recently showered, her eyes on you as she heaves a sigh of relief. “It’s Hoshi and Baby,” she calls over her shoulder, coming forward. 

Soonyoung nudges you toward Angel gently. “Take her to shower.” 

“Yeah of course.” 

“Where’s Seungcheol?” You ask, turning to look at Soonyoung, who is already looking at his phone, holoscreen lighting up his face. 

“On his way. The main crew is safe.” He hesitates. “We lost Lan, Old Man Vero and Yoon Minji.” 

Your heart seizes, eyes darting to Angel. “Angel, I’m-”

“Jeonghan is taking care of it.” For the first time in years, you hear a note of pain in her voice, raw and real. Angel has - had - a complicated relationship with her step-mother, the matriarch of the Yoong family. “I’ve already satiated my vengeance. This is his. Come on.” 

You hesitate. Soonyoung nudges you toward the stairs gently by the hip, suddenly looking tired. “Go. I’m going to find a doctor for that nose.” 

“Is it terrible?” 

He huffs, trying not to laugh. “No, but it needs to be fixed. Go. Shower.” 

I love you. It’s on the tip of your tongue, right there. I love you. It’s all you can think about, thundering in your ribcage. I love you. It consumes you, makes you freeze up, staring at him. I love you. 

Angel tugs your wrist delicately and breaks the spell. You follow her up the stairs. She’s careful with you, making you take one step at a time. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her so gentle, her eyes softened with worry and her touch on you delicate as butterfly wings. 

Upstairs, she leads you into a room that smells like vanilla and sandalwood. Soonyoung. This room belongs to Soonyoung. You spot his subtle touches, a gaming computer shoved in the corner and powered off. A closet with a metal door that is under lock and key. A single gun sitting on top of the nightstand. 

But what makes the room spin is the touches of you. A teakwood candle sitting on the dresser. Weighted blankets folded at the end of the bed. A bookshelf with all your favorite titles. A jar of saltwater taffy in multiple flavors. 

Angel hesitates by the bathroom door, watching you drink in the room. You turn to her, shaking your head, confused and mouth open. She nods. “I know. I didn’t know either.” 

“I could live and die a thousand times and never deserve him.” 

“I’m not the best judge of character, but I don’t think I believe that to be true.” 

Angel isn’t the best judge of character. But she also doesn’t say things she does not mean. She’s the last person in the world to offer words of comfort, and yet she’s standing in the bathroom staring at you like she can see through you, right down to the very core. 

Maybe she can. Seeing what is rotting people on the inside and sniffing out their weaknesses is what she does best. 

Instead of pointing out where you hurt, she manages to get you into the bathroom. It’s spacious but not grand like what you’re used to - it’s small. Safe. She starts the shower and backs away, helping you get out of your bloody clothing. 

Everything hurts so bad. Your ribs ache, the bruising on them blotchy and horrendous as Angel peels back your shirt. She thankfully doesn’t react - she’s seen worse and done worse. Suddenly, you realize why Soonyoung picked her to help you. She’s steady, her fingers sure as she holds your arm while you pull your pants down.

You don’t dare look in the mirror. From what you can see without it, it’s already bad enough. Yijun hadn’t dealt fatal damage, but you know you’re bruised and covered in dry, flaking blood. 

Angel leaves you in the shower, shutting the door to go sit on the sink, a guardian willing to give you space but ready to help when you need it. Shaking, you shuffle into the stream of hot water, hissing when it hits your skin. 

It’s both heaven and hell. The hot water feels so good on your aching muscles and throbbing pain, but it also hurts when the water taps against your nose, reminding you that it is indeed broken. You suck in sharp air as you slowly begin to work your fingers into your skin, turning the water pink as you wash off the blood. 

Blood that belongs to you. Blood that belongs to Yijun.

Yijun. 

You’re not sorry you killed him. It was satisfying and necessary. But… the weight of your grief comes crashing into you. You could have killed him years ago and ran. Could have gone crawling back to Soonyoung and asked for his help. Could have told him that the only reason you ever agreed to marry him in the first place was to protect him. 

None of it mattered. You bought him a paltry couple years worth of protection and for what? To shackle yourself to a man who thought little of you, who wanted to fuck you until you gave him another version of himself, who wanted to kill you at every moment because he knew you didn’t respect him and because he was afraid of you and the way you command respect from your family, but he never did.

All that time you’d made yourself smaller for him. Held back your bite. Hid your teeth. Mourned Soonyoung everyday, knowing that you’d never touch him again, that he would never kiss you again, that you’d never wake up in the morning when he got home from work and crawled into bed with you.

A potential lifetime of happiness, one of your own making, wasted on a promise that they broke anyway. 

For nothing. It had been for nothing, you’d hurt Soonyoung for nothing, shut him out, promised you would never leave him and threw him away, forced him to jump for you, forced him to leave you when he said he wouldn’t all for nothing nothing nothing nothing notHING NOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHING-

Angel’s arms are around you. You startle, looking up to see that she is in the shower fully clothed, holding you to her. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying - screaming - in the shower. She presses you closer to her, the only way she knows how to tell you that she’s got you. She’s there. She understands. 

You crumble, leaning heavily on her as you let it out, sobbing. Your throat is raw, your face throbbing each time you squeeze your eyes shut. Angel says nothing, content to hold you while her clothes soak up the water, weighing her down as you let out your grief in full, ugly waves. 

Eventually, the water starts to get cold and your tears start to dry up. You sniff and groan, the pain in your face so poignant that it can’t be ignored. Lifting your head from her shoulder, you glance at her boots, soaked and murky red around the edges.

“Can I tell you something?” Angel asks, voice low. You nod. She hesitates, putting the words together before she says, “He’s going to accept you back. He’s going to do it with no conditions, and ask nothing of you. You’re going to want to torture yourself and beg for his forgiveness and deny yourself of him because you think you should be punished, that there is not a god powerful enough to hurt you the way you deserve.”

You blink in surprise. Angel isn’t religious, despite the nickname. She also isn’t overly emotional or wordy. But you see the severity in which she tells you this, see the pain in her eyes. You remember that she has demons far older than yours, ones that have followed her since childhood. 

And she’s right. She reads you like a book, seeing the fucking pain radiating inside of you, the desire to be punished and hated and whipped- 

“Let him take you back.” Her words are firm. “Don’t make him punish you. Don’t believe for a second that Soonyoung wants to make you pay. He doesn’t. He doesn’t care what you did or why. Just… let him have you. You’ve endured enough.” 

You nod. “Alright. I’ll try.”

“Good. Um - can we get out of the shower though? It’s very cold in here.” 

You laugh, immediately followed by a groan. “Please don’t make me laugh. I am in so much pain.” 

“Yeah, let’s go get you some drugs, dude.” 

The three Syndicates of the city are officially at war. Of all the news that has poured in over the last few days, this is the least surprising. When you’d seen Seungcheol that first night after everything went to hell, he’d held you close and promised that he would kill every last Kim in the city.

He had also told you he was proud of you. Not just for surviving Yijun long enough for Soonyoung to come get you, but for being able to warn the family what was coming. Your single warning alone had saved them a great deal and wounded the Kim Syndicate more than you could understand. 

The days following your father’s death are strange. It doesn’t feel like he’s dead - at least, you haven’t truly processed it yet. There are things that demand your attention like being seen by Dr. Ymir for your fractured nose and bruised ribs, and the accounts and logistics of what being at war with the Kim and Yong family truly means. 

On the fifth day at the safe house, you go back home. Seungcheol makes you ride with him, unwilling to let you out of his sight these days. You’re the only two members of the Choi family left, and it’s up to the two of you to rally the troops and remind everyone what the mountain can do. 

Seungcheol replaces your father as the Tower of the Choi Syndicate. Typically there’s a small ceremony to pass the torch so to speak, but there’s no time for that. Seungcheol is buried in problems and trying to maneuver the family into a favorable position, but it’s hard - the Yongs and Kims have been preparing this for a while. 

You’re suddenly given a job again. Fresh in his position leading the family, Seungcheol needs those he trusts by his side, immediately appointing you as the Architect of the Syndicate. There’s no one he trusts more with the finances and the logistics of the businesses under the Choi banner and who have pledged to his family. 

With Yoon Minji’s death, Jeonghan’s takes his rightful side as the Wisdom and second in command to Seungcheol. It’s like you’d always known it would be as a kid, but it brings you no joy to see the two of them together in an office until the early hours of the morning, worn at the edges and sick with the grief they’re ignoring to push forward. 

With no surprise, Seungcheol immediately promotes Soonyoung to the lead military position, rising from Sword to Sentinel in a single night. It’s the same position his father held under your father, and Soonyoung takes it with steely resolve. 

It also means you don’t see him. You move back into your old room at home. At first, it doesn’t feel like your room at all because Soonyoung isn't in it. He had moved into your room when you first started dating, spending two years in that bed with you. Now, he’s taken up residence in his room down the hall, so close and yet the distance feels larger than ever. 

Of all the problems mounting for you to solve, Soonyoung is the most important. You know he shouldn’t be. There are a thousand other things that you need to figure out, like how to assure that the businesses you own in and near the Kim and Yong family territories won’t go under or be attacked, or how to assure that payment to the family won’t increase now that there’s a fight. 

Your days are filled with countless meetings, assuring loyal patrons that the Choi Syndicate will not fall and will not fail them, and that the Choi’s protect their own. You can see the fear in people’s eyes - the city hasn’t had the big three at war in a long time. Already the city officials are cracking down on Syndicate activity to try and establish order. 

It’s farcical at best. 

Squeezing your temples between your fingers, you lean back from the desk in your newly appointed office - which is really just your father’s. It feels weird to be in here. It still smells like leather and sweet tobacco, a little bit of smoke hanging in the air. 

The last time you’d been in this office, you’d fallen to your knees and begged him not to make you marry Kim Yijun. Now you sit at the desk, hanging up the phone as another call ends - not as bad as the first, but not as good as you’d hoped. 

Quickly, you scribble down a summary of the call to give to Seungcheol. You know he’ll read every word you write, determined to hear each concern of those under Choi patronage, whether they’re valid or not. 

At the sound of the door opening, you glance up. Soonyoung sticks his head in, surprising you. You straighten in your seat, heart racing when you take him in. His silver hair has grown longer, tapered a bit at the neck. He’s dressed in all black but he’s clean, indicating that he showered not that long ago. You thought he would be out all day like usual, looking at your watch to see he’s back far earlier than normal.

“Is everything alright?” You start to get up and he rushes to you, hands lifting to help you. “I’m alright. I am well on the mend.”

He chews his lip, nodding before dropping his hands hesitantly. “Everything’s fine I just.” He hesitates. “Do you want to eat lunch?” 

“Oh. Sure.”

Soonyoung’s smile is tentative. Shy. You give him one back, following him out of the office while sending a quick note to Jihoon that you’ll meet with him later. He sends a thumbs down back, less than pleased that you’ve not made time to talk to him about your potential murder charges for Yijun. 

“Are you busy? We don’t have to-”

“It’s just Jihoon.” 

“Ah. He’s persistent, are you sure-”

“I want to have lunch with you, Soonyoung.” 

He blushes and you grin. “Alright,” he murmurs. “When you say jump and all that.” 

That makes you pause. “You don’t have to do anything I tell you.” 

“What?” He stops walking, confused. 

“You don’t have to ask how high if I tell you to jump... I’m wrong a lot of the time. I don’t… want to be that.” 

I don’t want to repeat my mistakes. You don’t say it, but you think Soonyoung senses it when he says, “I’ve always wanted to jump for you. That hasn’t changed.” 

Let him take you back. Don’t make him punish you. 

Angel’s words come back to you so you swallow down your guilt and you nod, giving him a tentative smile that he returns. This time, he holds out his hand to take you in the kitchen. You take it, the feeling of his fingers wrapping around yours both foreign and familiar. 

The way he holds your hand in his makes you tremble. It’s something so simple and benign and yet you’re screaming on the inside, looking at where your fingers twine together like it’s everything, like it’s the only thing. 

Lunch consists of very badly burned grilled cheese. You don’t care because Soonyoung makes it, insistent that he wants to and that he can. He’s good at a lot of things, particularly on the spectrum of murder and weapons, but he is terrible at putting bread, cheese and butter in a pan. 

You eat it anyway, burnt bread and all. He sits next to you, his stool pulled so close that your thighs touch. You want to reach out and brush your fingers across his face, down his neck, through his hair. You want to touch until you’re grabbing, grab until you’re pulling. 

Instead, you let him lead this dance, too afraid to initiate. 

Let him take you back. Don’t make him punish you. 

You don’t, but you can’t let go of the fear of rejection. Can’t bring yourself to toe the line beyond what he’s giving you, which is more than you ever dreamed of. So you accept when he offers to take your plate, fingers brushing over the top of your hand either by design or by accident you don’t know. His touch makes you shiver and he notices, pausing. 

Slowly, you look up at Soonyoung. His eyes are dark and misty as ever, churning with emotion that you’re a little too afraid to read. Instead of taking the plates to the sink, he sets them down and reaches for you, cradling your face in his hands. 

A sob works its way up your throat but you force it down. You will not cry over this. You will not make him comfort you. 

“Are you afraid to touch me?” His question is gentle. You nod, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb brushes back and forth across your cheekbone. “Why?” 

“I… want to so badly. I just want it to be your choice.” 

“I want you to.” You open your eyes. His earnestness is right on the surface of him, rippling for you to see. “I’m dying for it. Please.” 

Soonyoung’s please sounds like that morning he’d begged you all that time ago. It freezes you in place, heart beating like a prey animal in fight or flight. He steps closer, his breath on your forehead when he whispers, “Please.” 

Slowly, you bring your hands up to his wrists. Licking your lips, you place your hands on him. His eyes close. His skin is warm to the touch and you feel him tremble as you brush your hands upward, tracing his forearms, his corded biceps. You brush your fingertips over the sleeves of his shirt and toward his neck until you’re cupping his throat, your thumbs resting against his hammering pulse. 

You close your eyes, remaining still. Both of you remain that way, his hands on your face, yours on his neck. You’re shaking under his touch, feel his breath against your forehead. His fingers add a little pressure to your face, careful not to hurt you where your bruise is finally fading on your nose as he turns you to look up at him. 

Soonyoung licks his lips, eyes open. “There is not a second I didn’t love you.”

And there it is. The admission that he never hated you. You bet he tried - you know he tried. You know the inside of Soonyoung’s soul better than you know your own, no part of him hidden to you even with time. 

“I don’t care why you did it,” he continues. “Not anymore. Not after everything. I don’t care about any of it. I just… want you.”

“Soonyoung-”

“I know you’re sorry. I know you hate yourself. I know there is guilt eating away at you. Get over it, because none of it changes how I feel. I love you. You’re mine. I don’t want to leave you again. You cannot make me.” 

“I know. I won’t make you.” 

“Good.” Soonyoung presses his forehead to yours gently. He’s careful not to knock noses with you too hard, aware of the pain it’ll cause. “I cannot do any of this without you.” 

“I know.”

Soonyoung’s mouth is tentative when it presses against yours. Your grip on him tightens, leaning forward into the kiss. It is everything - the only thing. You feel something wet on your face, thinking that you’ve got another nosebleed, but when you pull away, you realize it’s because Soonyoung is crying.

Crying for the first time since his parents died. 

You stand up from the stool, gripping the back of his neck to pull him toward you. He melts under your touch, letting you meld your mouths together. He tastes like his burnt sandwich and like him, his mouth warm and wet against yours. Vanilla and sandalwood invade your senses, overwhelming as you grip him for dear life, never wanting to let him go.

He doesn’t want to let you go either. His grip on your hips is crushing, fingers digging into flesh and bone as though he can force you to become one. The thought makes you dizzy. You slide your fingers in his silk-soft hair, wrapping the strands around them to pull lightly, pull him closer, pull him to you, pull him back. 

Soonyoung whines against your mouth and you break the kiss, panting. “Take me upstairs,” you whisper between peppering kissing against his mouth, his bottom lip, the corner of his lips. “Please take me upstairs.” 

He does. Soonyoung grabs you by the hands, tugging you toward the stairs that lead to your room - the room you used to share. The room that still smells like him, even if faintly. He takes you to your bed, where you’ve spent hundreds of nights with him, and lays you down gently like he has a million times before. 

Soonyoung touches you like you’re holy. His hands skim over you in worship, they scratch you in penance, they hold you in reverence. He slots himself between your knees, stealing a kiss from you like it’ll breathe new life into him, bare him anew, purge him of sin. 

You love him. You love him you love him you love him you love him you love him -

A moan leaves his mouth when your nails drag down his back. He is quaking under your touch, his mouth hungry but careful against yours, wanting to swallow you whole but knowing you’re hurt. You know he won’t break you but you wish he would.

There’s time for that later. Now isn’t the time for rough and biting. Now, Soonyoung peels the shirt from your skin, immediately covering your arms, chest, collarbones, shoulders in kisses. You vibrate under his touch, lashes fluttering as he sucks at the sensitive skin of your neck, tongue pressed flat to your pulse as he tastes you. 

You tug at his shirt and he complies, leaning upward to toss it. He’s back on you in a second, pressing you close, hip to hip as he tangles his tongue with yours, drinking you in. His touch ignites a fire and you’re burning, a complete inferno as you drag your fingers up the hard contour of his stomach to the firmness of his chest and around to his shoulders. 

“I love you,” he mutters against your mouth, rolling his hips into you. You let out a breathy sound and he groans. “Fuck I love you. I missed you. I love you.” 

“Please,” you beg. He understands, burying his face in your neck and biting down lightly. You feel like you’re going to burn up under him, an out of control blaze while his fingers work the buttons on your pants. “Never let me go.”

“Never.” 

Jeans scrape down your legs, his hands following. He drags his blunt nails down your thighs. Your hips twitch upward, loving the scratch, loving the way he touches you, loving him. He returns his mouth to yours, unable to get enough of your kissing. 

Soonyoung’s hand slips between your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressing against your clit through your underwear. You keen for him, pulling at the long strands of hair at the back of his neck. He moans in tandem, his pleasure driven by yours, loving the way you sound as you start to come apart under the gentle circle of his fingers. 

He only teases you a little, knowing the friction with the fabric between his fingers and your aching cunt isn’t enough. He finally decides that you’ve had enough, hooking a finger to pull them aside, the cool air hitting your sticky folds. 

Before you can complain, Soonyoung’s touch is there. He drags his fingers slow-soft from top to bottom, circling your clit slowly. He’s not in a hurry, dragging it out as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, sliding his fingers back down to press against your entrance but not breach it. 

You whine and he grins, pulling your bottom lip with his teeth until he lets go with a pop. “I love those sounds you make.” 

“Feels good,” you admit, head falling to the side as you close your eyes, enjoying the pressure he puts on your clit, wiggling his fingers back and forth. Your thighs close around his hand but he’s unbothered, drawing more arousal from you as he plays. “Fuck, your fingers.” 

His laugh is throaty and he shakes his head, attaching his mouth to your jaw where he sucks at the skin. He makes himself comfortable with nibbling toward your neck, both of his hands reaching for the sides of your underwear to pull them down. You let him, folding your knees toward your for a moment to help. 

Soonyoung’s hand returns to the wetness between your legs except this time, he’s not teasing. He presses a finger in deep and you whine, hips wiggling. You squeeze down on his finger, pussy spasming as he begins to pump leisurely, like he has all the time in the world.

And he does, doesn’t he? The work is far from done and the world is falling apart, but it doesn’t matter because he’s here with you. Because Soonyoung is yours again - always has been - and because he’s drawing your mouth toward his to kiss you messily, swallowing down your moans as he presses in another finger. 

Now you crumble beneath him. You can’t stop your hips from coming off the bed. You loop your arms around his neck, keeping him close, breathing the same air. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes impossible dark and half-lidded as he hooks his fingers, dragging them against that sensitive spot. 

You cry out his name and he grins. Now he knows where it is, pressing repeatedly as he fucks you on his fingers, driving you directly toward an orgasm. Your breathing becomes labored, your legs squeezing his hips, your fingers digging into his shoulders. It is so good that you think you might die, letting him yank you toward release. 

Soonyoung kisses you again and you come crashing down, cumming around his fingers, body squeezing, ignoring the ache in your ribs and the millions of other places that you’re sore. He doesn’t slow down, scissoring his fingers to pry you open, to stretch you more.

“Soonyoung,” you gasp, voice wrecked. “Soonyoung Soonyoung Soonyoung.” 

“Just like that,” he agrees. You can tell he loves the way you say his name, knows that on your tongue it means something different. “Come on, one more.” 

You’ll give him anything he wants. Never again will you deny him. You let him work you up again, feeling the way your breath gets stuck in your lungs and you shiver, another wave washing through you as you shudder around his fingers. 

When you start to pant, he pulls his fingers out. You feel the wet schlick as he does, immediately hating the way you feel empty, hating the way he leans away from you. Whining, you reach out toward him, needy. He hushes you with a brief kiss, only standing to rid himself of his jeans and briefs. 

Using the fingers covered in your arousal, Soonyoung pumps his cock, smearing a mixture of your slick and his precum down his shaft as he kneels on the bed again, taking his place between your thighs again. You watch with hooded eyes as he rubs the head of his cock through your messy folds, a moan dripping from your lips. 

Soonyoung is beautiful, skin flushed and a sheen of sweat on his arms. His stomach flexes and clenches as he presses the tip of his cock into your entrance, both of you taking a shaky breath together. He slowly slides home, the stretch of him driving you wild, pussy fluttering around him until he’s slotted to the hilt. 

He hangs his head, panting as he plants his hands on either side of your head. He takes a moment to collect himself, shaking. You turn your head to the side, kissing his wrist, peppering any skin you can reach with your love while your hands drift up his back, feeling the muscles flex. 

When he begins to move, you nearly die. It feels so good, your breath lodged in your throat. He lowers his face to yours, kissing you as gently as he fucks you. His thrusts are deep and timed, not hard or fast but slow and measured, pressing all the way in as he uses his weight to his advantage. 

Your fingers turn to talons on his back, nails biting his shoulder blades. He’s precise, the tip of his cock finding the right angle to make you nearly sob in a matter of a few thrusts. It’s familiar. Home. 

Soonyoung lowers himself to his forearms, pressing your chests together. The friction of his skin against your pert nipples makes you squeeze around him, his name a whisper on swollen, kiss-bitten lips. He presses his forehead to yours, breathing shakily as he continues to fuck you.

You feel him everywhere, feel everything that he wants to say. Soonyoung has never needed words to communicate to you and he doesn’t now, the way he shakes as he lets out a wispy moan enough, the way he slides one of his arms under your back to cradle you to his chest, closer closer closer.

He wants to be closer and so do you, arms around his neck, drawing him to you. You never want to let him go, never will let him go. You’ve learned your lesson and this, right here with him is the only thing that matters. 

“Shh,” he hushes. You realize you’re crying, tasting salt on your lips when he brushes his mouth against yours. “I know.” 

“I love you.”

“I know.” 

Soonyoung’s pace picks up only a little bit. It’s enough, sending you careening toward your third orgasm. He can feel it - needs it. He chases after your high, catching your mouth to brush his tongue against yours, rolling his hips until you’re clenching around him, whining into his mouth, lips buzzing against his.

He hums against you, waiting until your pussy lets go of its vice grip to speed up a little bit, the wet smack of his hips against yours loud and lewd, driving him forward until he comes, your name on his lips, his face buried in your neck. His thrusts slow, both of you trembling like leaves until he finally stops, remaining seated inside of you. 

“I will love you for a thousand lifetimes,” he mutters against your mouth, with no intention of moving. “You know that, right Baby?” 

You nod, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung,” you rasp, quoting yourself that first night he finally caved, where he finally told you that he couldn’t exist without you. “I will never go anywhere ever again.” 

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SYNDICATE ROLES

Tower - title for a Syndicate boss Wisdom - title for the second-in-command to a Sydicate boss Sentinel - title for the main military leader of a Syndicate Riots - title for a member of the Syndicate responsible for sowing discord Swords - title for a member of the Syndicate who is a fighter/military role Chariots - members of the Syndicate who make deals/act as business brokers Rooks - members of the Syndicate who collect debts/lead the extortion practices Justices - members of the Syndicate on the legal counsel Hanged Men - members of the Syndicate who betrayed their Syndicate Watchers - members of a Syndicate who are spies/informants Patrons - citizens who pay homage/have an alliance/are under the protection of a Syndicate Vanguard - official members of the Syndicate who don't have specific roles but do work for the Syndicate

[tangylemonade]

NO ONE ELSE

Jeonghan x afab reader

(The reader wears feminine clothes and is referred to as pretty etc.)

18+ MINORS DNI (istg 🫵🏾 ಠ_ಠ if I catch you)

Word count: 9.7k

꧁ ☂︎ (angst) & ⚠︎ (smut) w/ a pinch of ☁︎ (fluff) ꧂

WARNING: unprotected sex (don't forget the casing before you stuff your sausage), kidnapping, cursing, description of abuse, Jeonghan smokes, Jeonghan’s in a gang, mentions of injuries, reader has toxic parents. Please let me know if I missed anything.

P.s. I am aware that it’s no longer recommended to wrap fractured ribs but my goodness let me have this （•‿•）

You were never a one night stand kind of person.

It felt too… vulnerable. Too scary.

You didn’t know how to just give yourself to someone you don’t even know. To trust them with a raw view of you. To trust them with something so intimate.

It had been a long week. A long month. A long year.

You were beyond exhausted and quite honestly ready for a change.

Falling asleep filled with that expensive bottle of wine you never felt special enough to drink you woke up with a fire in your heart. A spark that needed kindling.

And now on this tepid Wednesday morning while you laid in bed long past your alarm you felt more energized than ever.

Getting up you showered before finally checking your phone. Your boss called and you had a few text messages from your coworkers.

You lied about being up all night with fever and called out sick. You’d never done anything of the sorts before so no one even questioned it. One coworker even offered to bring you soup which you politely declined.

You did a face mask that claimed to plump your skin and after that you put on a little makeup. Standing in a lingerie set you bought at some point for a boyfriend you never even slept with, you tried on your only pair of heels.

No one would see you like this tonight except yourself but you didn’t mind at all. It still made you feel sexy, something you hardly thought about yourself.

Digging in the depths of your closet you found that one dress you kept tucked away for special occasions. Your heart did a little flip thinking that maybe it didn’t fit anymore but thankfully with a little shimmy as you pulled up the form fitting dress it still fit like a glove.

Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the way out the door you did a double take. The dress fit you perfectly, accentuating your every curve nicely. Your hair was done and all together with some makeup on you felt pretty. The prettiest you’d felt in a long long time.

You couldn’t help smiling.

Rasasy was a small restaurant that you’d often pass by but never went into. It always looked lovely and quaint and the scent would carry through the street making you hungry on your way home.

It was quiet with a few people enjoying their dinners while chatting away happily with their partners.

The food took its time coming as it was cooked upon order but it was completely worth it.

Taking another bite you looked around taking in the atmosphere. Soft piano music was playing quietly and the booth you were sitting in was warm and cozy.

You found yourself looking to see if you were the only person eating alone. In a beat your eyes locked with a man who must’ve been the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. Sitting alone at the table to your right he took a sip of his red wine before giving you a disarming smile.

Without too much unnecessary thought you smiled at him and went back to your meal with your heart a flutter.

When you were finished you called the waitress to ask for the check. While you waited you glanced over at the beautiful man’s table but he was gone.

Your heart sank a bit and you shook your head laughing at yourself. What would you even say anyway?

“The bill was already paid for.” The waitress said with a smile.

“Paid for? Why? By who?” you said.

Somehow you already knew.

“The gentleman at table 3. He requested that you’d be given this note as well.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, feeling a little giddy.

The waiter simply smiled with a knowing twinkle in her eyes before heading away.

You waited until you got in your car, buckled in, started it, and took a deep breath before mustering the courage to unfold the note and read it.

-

Hello gorgeous

I didn't want to bother you because you looked so peaceful. I’d love to join you next time.

Jeonghan

+82-3-067-1005

-

The handwriting was a little sloppy yet had a unique elegance to it.

As you moved the paper you caught a whiff of a heavenly scent. Was that how he smelt?

Something regal…like an aromatic green tea and…. cigarettes. Not the cheap kind, the expensive ones that smelled sweet and warm.

“Oh who am I kidding.” You said to yourself with a wistful sigh before tucking the note into your bag. You often talked to yourself aloud to sort your thoughts.

“The lighting at the restaurant was very dim and romantic. Maybe he’s just drunk and lonely. Maybe he’s just playing a game. Maybe he has fun every night and I seemed like an easy target because I was alone and looked pitiful.”

But then a different thought popped into your head.

It came as a whisper.

‘Maybe… just maybe he wants to get to know me.’

The little thought echoed through your head silencing the others while turning your face vibrant with warmth.

Tomorrow. You’d call tomorrow.

☾

Pacing back and forth you couldn’t decide when the moment was right.

What if he thinks you’re a freak for calling so early? Maybe you should wait another day so you don’t seem desperate. Maybe you should’ve called last night and he doesn't even remember you. Maybe you could just text him? Maybe…

You hit call and squeezed your eyes shut while the phone rung.

“Hello?”

A voice filled your ear, soft and smooth

“Oh sorry Hi! Uhm this is Y/N. From last night. You gave me your number…” you heard yourself starting to ramble and wanted to die.

“Wow! I didn’t think you’d call.”

Your face fell in horror.

“Oh my I’m so sorry I-“

“I’m happy you did. I was sure you thought I was a weirdo or something. I felt so stupid but I figured you were worth the try.”

Your words caught in your throat while you tried to process everything.

“Hello? Are you still there?” He asked tentatively over the line.

“Yeah.”

Your words came out in a bit of a whisper.

“Perfect! So… do you want to get coffee or…”

“Yeah. Oh uhm yeah coffee would be- I could always drink coffee.”

“Are you busy? We could meet up today?”

“No, I'm off. How about Colvers? It’s new but I heard they make good coffee and the sandwiches aren’t half bad.”

“That sounds great! How does 2:30 sound?”

“Great!”

You caught yourself sounding a little too enthusiastic and tried to tone it down. “So.. I’ll uhm see you there?”

“See you.” He said with a light chuckle before hanging up.

A date. You have a date. A beautiful, gorgeous date.

“I’m gonna vomit!” you declared, collapsing on your bed with a groan.

You laid there for a little bit playing in your hair and suddenly giggling like a little school girl before hopping up and heading to the shower. You hummed the whole way through as you dolled yourself up and sorted through your things in an attempt to find the best and prettiest casual clothing you owned.

Checking the time you did your final touches before rushing out the door in fear of being late even though you were leaving early.

You arrived 30 minutes early and thanked god for your insight because it was a little busy but you still managed to find a good table.

You ordered their signature sandwich as a late breakfast, hoping you could finish it before he got there.

The sandwich took a little while to come but god was it worth it. You chewed with your eyes closed, savoring the warm and spicy goodness.

“Can I have a bite?”

You nearly choked as your eyes flew open at the sound of a smooth and sultry voice.

You quickly chewed and swallowed, taking a swig of your water. Your eyes pricked with tears as you forced the not fully masticated bite down.

“Have you considered filming a commercial? The way you’re eating makes that look really good.” He said with a smile that made you feel a little (a lot) hot around the collar.

“Sorry. I skipped breakfast.” You sort of mumbled as you self-consciously set your sandwich on your plate. “I don't drink coffee well on an empty stomach so I figured I’d eat before you got here.”

“Same. Can I have a bite?”

You blinked at him. “A bite?”

“Can’t I?” He did a head tilt that would’ve seemed innocent if not for that sparkle in his dark brown eyes.

You nodded slowly and slid the plate towards him with a hand that was now shaking a bit.

He picked up the sandwich, turning it around and looking at it before taking a bite right where you had.

Your mouth watered as you watched him chew.

Fighting yourself to look back at his eyes you saw something mischievous reflecting back at you that sent your skin fluttering with goosebumps.

He chewed slowly before swallowing and swiping the corner of his lips with his thumb.

“This really is good.”

“Yeah uhm.. do you want to order one…” you said, raising your hand to call the waiter.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it down to the table with a smile.

“Nah it’s okay. I’ll just steal more of yours, only if you don’t mind of course.”

He looked at you waiting for a response.

“Oh I don’t mind.” You said, not entirely sure why it didn’t bother you when you weren’t normally a big sharer. That was one of the reasons you were so lonely. It feels hard to give these days.

The waiter brought over an icy glass, setting it in front of Jeonghan and physically cutting the tension that was building as you watched him take another bite.

He sipped the cold glass of tea, his pink lips wrapping around the straw.

“What is it?” You asked as you picked up the sandwich and took a bite, your bite overlapping with his. You internally rolled your eyes as your heart did a little skip. What were you, in grade school?

But why did the sandwich taste even better this time?

“Iced green tea w/ honey and half cream. It’s good.” He said while pushing the glass towards you.

“Ohh sounds good.”

You weren’t sure if it really did sound good or if the thought of wrapping your own lips around his straw was clouding your common sense.

What in the world was this man doing to your dormant and CLEARLY desperate body?

You hesitated for a moment, looking up at him and catching his gaze again.

Without a second thought you put your lips around his straw taking a quick sip, the cool drink washing through your now hot body.

Jeonghan watched you for your reaction and you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes flicker to your pursed lips.

“Oh it is good. Maybe I should order that instead of a coffee.” You said. The tea was not too sweet and pleasantly refreshing.

“I’m telling you. You have a future in advertising.” He said with a shake of his head and a dangerous smile. So charming it disarmed you and suddenly you were smiling too.

If you from a week ago saw you now she would have a heart attack.

You didn’t end up ordering your own tea. You shared his drink with him leaning in to take sips and exchange wistful conversation.

Here you were sitting with a complete stranger sharing spit before you even learned each other's last names.

☾

“So tell me more about yourself? What do you do for work?” He asked, walking alongside you, his hand gently brushing into yours as you stepped in sync.

It was a beautiful day and Jeonghan had suggested a park date. You went on a couple dates before but you always picked activities. Not as much talking time as there was physical bonding like pottery classes and movies. You two finished a quick picnic of sandwiches before going for the walk. It felt nice to talk with him in such a relaxed way as you strolled side by side along the sunny path.

“I work in banking.” You said with shrug

“Ohhh sounds fun.” He teased.

You laughed. “Ehh. It’s not bad and it pays well enough. What about you?”

You did a quick intake of the man walking beside you.

His shoulder length black hair was silky and smelled of a soft warm scent every time he turned his head to talk to you.

His slender stature was fitted in crisp yet simple black jeans and tee that you knew could only be from an expensive store.

“Family business. Nothing exciting like banking but hey.” He said with a chuckle.

“That’s nice! It's just me here so it can get pretty lonely.”

“Even with family it can also get pretty lonely. Do you have any close friends?”

You shrugged before awkwardly laughing “Do you count?”

Jeonghan playfully knocked his shoulder into yours. “Absolutely I do.”

You stopped and looked at him, smiling softly before shaking your head.

“What?” He said with his signature head tilt.

“What planet are you from Yoon Jeonghan?”

He laughed and turned his body fully towards you, leaning against a nearby tree. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just such…a- a.”

“Weirdo?”

You laughed. “What? No! You’re such a treat.”

His smile dropped a bit before quickly lifting into a smirk. You saw an indistinguishable emotion in his eyes that was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“Sorry. It’s just I- I’ve sortve been living in this weird little me bubble and the one day I suddenly decided to pop it you showed. It felt like fate… I mean you’re just so lovely…” Your voice trailed off. Your face was burning bright as Jeonghan's eyes watched you intently.

The breeze flittered his hair into his face as if it too couldn’t resist the desire to caress him.

“You’re trouble aren’t you?” He asked in an almost whisper.

“What? Me? Hardly. Besides, I’m not the one giving my phone number on flirty notes to strangers.” You smiled, playfully poked his arm as you spoke.

“Well a beauty like you is non-ignorable. I had no choice.”

“No choice huh.” You continued to quip in an attempt to distract your body from its desire to overheat in Jeonghan's intoxicating presence.

“What? Do you just hit on every pretty girl you see?”

He held your hand that you hadn't realized was still resting on his arm and pulled you closer to him.

“Oh! That reminds me…” he said, moving his right hand and puling something from his pocket.

It was a small blue box that he opened right away and showed you.

You gasped. “These are so beautiful Jeonghan. I can’t-“

“You most certainly can. And you can put them in right now.”

“No. I can’t except something so expensive.”

“It’s okay, I won them at a work raffle. I promise it’s okay.”

“Jeonghan…”

“Please. I wasn’t going to wear them anyway.” He said with a soft chuckle. “Besides, they would look too beautiful on you for anyone else to wear them.”

Carefully he placed the gift in your hands and rested his hands on your waist, holding you close.

You looked at the breathtakingly gorgeous emerald green studs a moment longer before carefully placing them in your ears. You didn’t own a single piece of jewelry. It was one of those luxuries you buy do for yourself and no one had ever gifted you.

Emotions swelled in your heart as you looked into Jeonghan’s eyes.

His gaze was so intense you thought you might combust on sight.

The sun was setting, painting a heavenly glow against his smooth gorgeous skin.

You leaned in before he did your lips touching his. He pulled you even closer to his invitingly warm chest as he fell into your lips embrace. Pulling back he cradled your face and gazed at you for a moment. Again his lips devoured yours as the kisses quickly filled you with ecstasy.

Eventually you both had to take a moment to breathe, his soft breath tickling your nose as he rested his forehead to yours.

You lifted your hand to his cheek while your other hand's fingers laced through the silky hair at the nape of his neck, pulled him in for another delicious taste.

His kisses spread heat through your body leaving you feeling dizzy and thoughtless.

He was completely and totally intoxicating. Green tea and cigarettes mixed with a soft scent you now knew to be him.

The tickle of his tongue on your lips was a magic spell telling your body to open to him and you complied. You pressed into him craving more as his nimble fingers pushed patterns into your skin like a sinful tattoo.

“Wow.” You whispered breathlessly.

He laughed. “I agree.”

Jeonghan looked up at the dimming sky.

“When did it get so late?” He said, concern evident in his voice. “ Let me drive you home.”

“What about my car then? I’ll text you when I get home, okay?” You were still feeling loopy off of him and couldn’t stop smiling.

“Then let me walk you to your car.”

You nodded, grabbing his hand and walking alongside him with a smile still warming your face.

☾

Jeonghan would sometimes text you good morning messages that had you feeling all giddy throughout the day. You found yourself smiling so much your coworker giggled and whispered to you “Someone is getting laid huh?”

“Oh stop.” You said swatting her away from you as you blushed thinking about how good Jeonghan probably could make you feel if his kisses had you this buzzed.

A couple weeks blew by and you talked nearly every day, both of you being too busy to meet up.

Holding your takeout in one hand and your bag and keys in the other you hummed while you tried to maneuver your house key into your hand.

A chilling breeze alerted your skin with goosebumps and you felt uneasy. Turning around you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary so you quickly and anxiously opened your door and ran inside. You locked both locks while trying to steady your pounding heart. Just then your phone rang causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

You checked the caller ID. Why was Jeonghan calling so late? He never called at this time.

“Jeonghan?” You said through the line.

“Are you okay?” He said quickly, his voice sounding quick and low.

“Yeah I’m okay. I just got home. About to eat dinner.”

“Can I see you?”

“Now!?”

“Is that okay?”

“Well…”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to inconvenience you. Just…you’re okay right?”

“Yeah I’m okay. Why? What’s going on?” You asked, your voice sounding as shaky as you were feeling.

“No reason. I’ll leave you to your dinner-“

“No! I mean- uhm…come over.”

“Are you sure?”

He sounded so exhausted and it made your heart pang.

“Of course. I’ll text you my address.”

It was more than just wanting to see him, you were still feeling scared and you couldn’t shake the uneasiness despite telling yourself that you were just being silly. You wanted Jeonghan to hold you and make everything okay.

You paced back and forth in your kitchen until you heard the *pling* *pling* of your doorbell. You rushed to check through the peephole, the pit in your stomach beginning to unknot at the sight of the beloved man standing outside, his hair blowing in the night air, obscuring his face .

You quickly opened the door with a smile on your face.

“Come in, it's freezing out.” You said pulling him in by his hand without another look.

He kicked off his shoes hurriedly as you pulled him all the way into your kitchen and ran to the pan you had heating on the stove.

“Sit down. Did you eat dinner? I got takeout. It’s nothing fancy but I was just about to eat. It’s probably cold now so I’m just gonna heat it up except my microwave is broken and so I have to use a pan which actually is better because then it tastes…”

You had your back to him while you rambled and you suddenly felt his slender arms wrap around you, cutting your words short as they fell back down your throat, transforming into butterflies in your stomach.

He rested his head on your shoulder and let out a sigh that sounded like he had the weight of the world crushing him.

“Jeonghan?” You held his hand and tried to turn around but he gently held you still.

Looking down you noticed his knuckles. They were bruised and bloodied!

“Are you okay?” You asked, worry flipping your heart and sending it pounding against your rib cage.

After turning off the stove you grabbed his arm and this time he didn’t resist as you lifted it, turning toward him.

A gasp fell from your lips at the sight of his beautiful face…battered and bruised. He licked his busted, swollen lip and smiled at you, wincing a bit from the pain.

“Oh my god! How did I not…Jeonghan what happened!” Your hands flew up to his face but only hovered, scared to hurt him any more than he already was. Jeonghan grabbed your hands, pulling them close and resting them on his chest, against his pounding heart.

“Family troubles.” He said with a crooked smile.

You sat him down at your table before quickly leaving to grab your first aid kit.

Opening the box you hesitated as you looked at the over-supplied kit your coworker bought you as a housewarming gift unsure what to even use.

“An ice pack would be great.” He said, helping you along with a humorous lilt to his voice that didn’t fit the situation.

“Right, sorry.”

You quickly rushed to your freezer and grabbed your ice pouch you bought at some point for your headaches and quickly tossed it to the back of your freezer when you realized it was of no help.

Gently you brought it to his cheek, pressing it slowly to gauge his pain.

“Sorry.” You said pulling back when he winced. “Does that hurt too much?”

“Not when you do it.”

He smiled again, gently holding on to your waist.

“Sorry. You’ll have to hold this while I clean your lip.”

He took the ice pack, his warm fingers playing with your now cold ones.

Grabbing ointment you put some on a cotton swab before leaning over and dabbing it gently on his pretty lips.

You looked up at Jeonghan, your eyes meeting his as he looked down at you.

In an attempt to catch your breath when you first arrived home you had unbuttoned a few buttons of your blouse. Right now he had a clean view down your shirt and into your barely there bralet that you wore on long days because bras drove you crazy and this one was comfortable. Comfortable and basically see through.

You didn’t mind at all and made no effort to move as you continued tending to his cuts.

“Anything else?” So asked softly.

You noticed a bruise peaking through the black silk of his shirt.

Jeonghan stared at you for a moment thinking through his next course of action. With a pensive expression he unbuttoned his shirt all the way, revealing litters of purple marks all over his upper torso.

“Oh m- Jeonghan, I'm not a doctor! You need to go to the hospital.” You felt tears stinging your eyes as the night's emotions already began to bubble over.

“No need. Nothing's broken. I’ll be fine.” He held your hand as he spoke, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You felt his warm body shiver as you delicately traced the injuries on his skin with cool fingers. Jeonghan rested his hand on your hips, tentatively pulling you closer.

“I feel better already.” Jeonghan whispered.

His low voice sent tingles through every fiber of your essence.

“Jeonghan. What happened? Please...”

His hands rushed to your face, cradling it and catching your falling tears with his thumb.

“There are things that need to be done. When they don’t get done it’s only natural to pay the price.”

“What does that mean Jeonghan?” Frustration twisted with worry in your voice. “Do you need help?”

He shook his head.

“It means that I will do everything within my power to keep you safe.”

“Jeonghan…You’re scaring me.”

“It’s gonna be okay y/n.”

He sweetly gazed up at you, stroking your cheek. You found yourself leaning closer, seeking the warmth and comfort you knew he could give you.

Your lips touched, not as a kiss but rather to simply feel each other, the emotions passing between you stronger than words could understand.

With a tilt of Jeoghans chin he kissed you softly at first against your trembling lips. His hands firmly pulled you closer, your body slotting between his legs as he deepened the kiss. Your tongue caressed his bottom lip and you tasted his blood in your mouth as he opened himself to you desperately.

His fingers hungrily wandered, leaving fire in their path.

Immediately undoing the rest of your buttons you slid your shirt off your shoulders, dropping it on the floor beside Jeoghans.

His hands squeezed your thighs encouraging you to straddle him.

“Are you..” you could barely speak as Jeonghan continued kissing you. “…sure it won’t…mhhh…hurt?

His only response was a moan against your lips before he pulled you into his lap, putting an end to your hesitation. Feeling worrisome about touching his injured body you laced your fingers through his hair.

Your hips took the lead pressing against the hardness that was growing in his slacks. He groaned into your neck where he had now begun to kiss and suck the sensitive skin, a moan vibrating against your throat.

Jeoghan placed your hands against his chest, letting you know that it was okay to touch him.

Your skirt was now lifted and sitting at your hips leaving only the thin barrier of your underwear now dampened with your arousal. Sliding down your bralette he littered your breast with licks and kisses.

Undoing the button of his pants your shaky hands struggled with the zipper before finally pulling his cock from the dreadfully difficult blockade that was his clothing.

“Fuck…” he breathed against your skin as you gently circled his tip, collecting the percum and stroking down his length.

His hands shot down to your aching core seeking to return the favor. He played with your swollen bud over damp underwear earning moans from you that had his cock twitching in your grasp. He slid your panties aside, slowly slipping two fingers into you.

Jeonghans hands were as nimble and graceful as they looked and you wondered if you would last much longer.

He pulled from inside leaving you aching with protest before you felt the tease of his tip to your dripping pussy lips. Standing to make it easier you watched as he guided his pretty pink cock into you, his length slowly disappearing until you were back flush against his lap.

With how long it had been since your last relation combined with his delicious size, you weren’t surprised by the pain of the stretch. Your eyebrows furrowed as you adjusted. Jeonghan kissed the corner of your lips, his hands massaging your hips while you breathed through the moment. Despite the twitch of his cock which you felt against your sensitive walls Jeonghan didn’t move, allowing you to take the lead.

He buried his face into your breasts, a string of swear words on his breath as your tight walls squeezed his throbbing cock.

When you began to rock he had to fight to steady his breathing before he blew it right then and there.

It truly had been too long for you. It didn’t take much more of his cock pressing all the right spaces in you before an orgasm came pulsing through your body. Jeonghan struggled to focus as he fought through the euphoric feeling of your fluttering pussy so that he could watch the scene that was you unraveling against him.

The beauty of your flushed face, kiss swollen lips, dazed eyes, and your softly furrowed brows had Jeonghan seeing stars.

You rested your head on his shoulder as you caught your breath.

Jeonghan waited until your heart calmed against him before he secured your hips in his hands and began lifting into you.

Shivers flittered down Jeonghan's spine as you moaned loud and clear in his ear.

Your feeling of overstimulation washed into the building of pleasure once again.

His hips began to stutter as he built closer to his release. You moved along with him and it wasn’t long before your walls were squeezing and pulsing around him again, this time pulling his orgasm into you in hot ropes. He rutted inside a few more times before wrapping his arms around your body and holding you close. You both began to settle from your high, the reality of the moments setting in.

Jeoghan was in your kitchen half naked and covered in bruises with his cock buried inside of you.

You must be going crazy because right now as you rested in his arms you felt safer than ever.

☾

You woke up to an empty bed despite falling asleep in Jeonghan's arms. The memory of you guys pulling off the rest of your clothes and stumbling to bed played through your mind.

Your stomach growled, reminding you that you skipped dinner.

You rolled over to see a note where Jeonghan had been.

~

Sorry I had a few things to handle.

There’s breakfast on the table.

I hope I didn’t make you late for work ^_^

~

You smiled not even caring that you were absolutely going to be late.

The bathroom mirror was still a bit fogged over when you looked in it. You touched your earring and smiled to yourself.

“I should’ve woken up earlier and showered with him.” You said to yourself regretfully, quickly showering so you could enjoy the breakfast he left to you. The towel he used was slightly damp and it smelled like him. You used it to dry off even though you had more than one and hurriedly lotioned and got dressed.

Jeonghan had left you a coffee that was still warm and a breakfast sandwich from Clovers. You thought your face would break from how much you were smiling but you couldn’t help that soaring feeling on your heart as you grabbed the food and headed out the door.

☾

The hairs on your neck stood up tall as you walked toward your house. It was the same stressed and scared feeling you felt the other night. The streets were being cleaned in the morning so you had to park farther down. You walked quickly as nerves began to set in halfway home. Glancing behind you you saw nothing but when you turned back around you crashed into a big tall man. You were unable to see his face before someone grabbed you from behind, holding a damp cloth over your nose until everything started to blur. You fought and fought with all your fading might, dropping your things on the ground before your body fell numb and everything went black.

Awakening to the ringing sound in your ears you squeezed your eyes tighter to gather your bearings. Examining yourself you found a bandage wrapped around your wrists and chest. It hurt as you breathed in. Your attempt to sit up was cut short by your body collapsing back on the bed, pain shooting throughout and settling into your head as a heinous migraine.

Cautious breaths were your anchor as you slowly looked around the dark room. Adjusting to the dark you noticed the faint orange glow of a cigarette burning by the window.

Fear ripped through your heart as every alarm fired off in your head.

You weren’t alone.

Using all of your strength you pushed your back against the headboard as you felt around for anything that could be used as a weapon. A gentle breeze from the open window blew through, bringing a familiar scent to greet your nose.

“J-Jeonghan?” Fear turned into confusion and then terror.

“You’re awake?” His voice came, soft and warm like a blanket covering you.

He stood up and stepped closer to you revealing the slouch of his tired frame. Bathed in blue light you could see fresh cuts and bruises on his face.

“Here, drink this.” He said offering you a water bottle.

You only just noticed how thirsty you were but you shook your head and pushed your body further away from him.

“Please, you must be thirsty. It’s unopened.” He said, switching on nightstand light and showing you the sealed bottle.

You took a moment to mull it over before tentatively accepting the drink. Your action was cut short as pain shot through, forcing you to wrap your arms around yourself.

Jeonghan rushed beside you, his hands instantly resting on your arms as his concerned eyes scanned your body. Save for the bandages around your chest and ribs your upper torso was bare, revealing the dark brushing that littered your upper torso.

“Let me help you.”

Jeaoghan opened the bottle and brought it to your mouth, his hand gently cradling your face carefully avoiding you painful bruise on your chin. Without hesitation you parted your lips allowing him to pour a few sips into your mouth. Your throat rejoiced at the relief while your stomach made you aware of its hollowness with a growl.

Jeonghan gazed down at you in his close proximity.

“What's going on?” You shakily whisper to him. “Everything hurts so…ugh…so much.”

A frown wrinkled Jeonghan’s beautiful face at your words and he looked away in shame.

“…Jeonghan?”

“You're safe. Rest here for a few days and then I’ll relocate you somewhere more comfortable. Kim will come later tonight.”

You blinked at him, no sound able to leave your mouth as you tried to process the moment.

With that Jeonghan stood up, grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

“Wait! Where are you going?” You asked, panic and distress filling you at the thought of him leaving you here alone.

“Don't leave me.” Your voice broke and you saw him hesitate, his hand frozen on the lock.

“Kim will be here soon.” He said quickly before slipping out, shutting the door airily behind him.

About an hour passed before a small slender woman possibly in her mid 40s walked in with a suitcase in tow behind her

“Hello.”

Her voice paired with her warm motherly smile felt gentle and sweet.

“You’re already looking better!”

She switched on the room light finally allowing you a clear view of the high end hotel room you apparently were staying in.

Kim went to the bathroom and came back with a basin of water.

“May I?” She asked, placing the bowl on the nightstand and ringing out the cloth.

You nodded and she began by wiping your face and then your hands. It felt soothing and the tension you felt from a stranger being in your presence began to fade.

“What’s goin-“

Kim shook her head, cutting you off without a word.

You looked at her with pleading eyes and her eyebrows tensed.

“Listen here now darling, it probably won’t make much sense but you helped save a lot of lives. A lot of innocent women and children.”

She looked at you with a soft smile. “The work that the Yoon family does isn’t very pretty and sometimes it’s down right awful. But there are people out there who are worse. And hopefully this group of worse people won’t be able to hurt any more good people.”

You were angry now. “That’s nice and all Kim but that doesn’t explain anything.” You frowned, speaking through gritted teeth as your brain struggled to sort things that just weren’t making sense.

Your heart was pounding, your ears ringing, and you were begging to feel nauseous.

“Come on doll, let’s get you washed up.

You wanted to be noncompliant but unfortunately you could really use a shower and you didn’t think you had the strength to get to the bathroom on your own.

You simply grumbled a thank you as Kim helped you to the shower and turned on the water for you. You didn't even mind when she helped you out of your clothes and bandages. She left you alone after that, only popping in to give you some toiletries and clothing.

You sunk to the floor of the tub in tears as your world crashed around you not even caring that your sobs were louder than the patter of the water against you.

You woke up to the shuffling sound of Kim’s footsteps. There was a bowl of savory smelling porridge steaming on the nightstand.

“Good! You're up!” Kim said cheerfully, making her way over to you.

You need to get something in that stomach of yours.

Kim had helped you with your hair last night by drying and plaiting it for you. You remembered Kim’s gentle hands tangling through your hair while you numbly sat on the cold floor. She had to practically drag you to bed but the moment your head hit the pillow you were out.

You pulled the covers around you. You were still naked save for the bandages Kim rewrapped for you and underwear you’d struggled to pull on. There was a t-shirt on the bed for you and you quickly pulled it on. Kim stirred the porridge and brought the spoon to her mouth checking the temperature as if you were a baby.

She set the tray down in front of you and placed the spoon in the bowl.

“Eat up. Please. You need your strength to heal.”

•••

They had you for two nights… maybe even three.

You were brought to a gaudy bedroom littered with alcohol bottles in every corner.. You were left there alone for a few hours before a woman, possibly in her late twenties, showed up.

She was concerningly skinny with a face that was pretty despite the bags under her eyes and the obvious drug use that bruised her body.

She took a moment to circle the pole you were chained to before scoffing.

“You’re not even that pretty.” She grumbled before landing a blow to your stomach, knocking the air from your lungs.

She would come in periodically to throw insults at you and hit you before eventually falling asleep on the bed. She was always inebriated, her words slurring together as she hissed at you with hot breath that reeked of liquor.

On the last night you heard the commotion of guns and yelling. She heard it as well and rage boiled in her eyes as she screamed and hit you harder than before. You felt the sickening crack of your ribs as you gasped for air and tried to stay awake.

When everything stopped you thought maybe you had died.

But you felt the warmth of a body, the familiar scent of green tea and cigarettes filling your bloodied nose. Once the chains were removed you fell into your savior's arms, unable to stand on your own.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”

•••

You finish the porridge and curl up in bed feeling exhausted even though you hadn't moved an inch. You turned your face into the pillow but you were too tired to even cry.

When you woke up this time it was dark out. Moonlight danced through the room caressing your bare skin. Your skin flitted with goose bumps and you shot up scanning the room, your eyes landing on the figure leaning against the windowsill.

You pulled yourself up and leaned against the headboard so you could face him while you spoke.

“I want to go home.” You said, your voice sounding shakier than you’d hoped.

Jeonghan sighed and out out his cigarette before walking towards the bed, sitting at the foot of it.

“It’s not safe.”

“And why is that Jeonghan?” This time your voice sounded just as venomous as you wanted it to, the rage finally stronger than your fear.

“You’ll need to lay low for a while until things calm down.” His eyes intently watched your glaring ones as he spoke.

“You won’t be able to go back to your job so I’ll help you find something new and until then your needs will be taken care of.”

You looked away first, cursing yourself for the way your body still fluttered under his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” You said as you fiddled with the blanket, rage subsiding and nervousness taking over again.

Jeonghan nodded.

“Why me? Did you really even…”

By now you had figured that it was all some twisted game that only you were missing the rules to. That you were just…bait?

He sighed again and rubbed his face tiredly before answering.

“You seemed…lonely. Like no one would notice if you went missing. You’re also very pretty.” He listed the reasons matter factly as if it was as casual as telling you the weather.

You wanted to protest but it was true.

Your family wasn’t just physically far away.

Your relationship with your mother and father became strained when you told them you didn’t want to keep sending money just for your little brother's addiction. They claimed it was for his rehab but he never went. Once they found his body you knew it was over. They blamed you and it was easier to leave entirely than deal with their constant bilgerance. When your job had a transfer available you didn’t hesitate. Sometimes at night you were haunted by the anger in your mothers eyes. To her, you were a witch who had killed her beloved son with your greed.

“That night that we... Why- why did you come to me? If I was just…if it was just…”

You couldn’t go on as the tears swallowed your words.

“Because I wanted to.” Jeonghan said nonchalantly.

You looked back at him with furious eyes.

“Listen.” He continued with a sigh, his tone more serious now. “ what happened- you didn’t deserve to get wrapped up in this. I’m sorry. Once I started to- I wanted to find another way.”

Emotions stormed through you, leaving you feeling confused and tired. Jeonghan's words offered little clarity, only giving way to more questions.

As Jeonghan watched your shaking eyes he wondered.

At what point did everything start feeling…real? At what point did he allow such a distraction to pull him away. It was never meant to be this way…and yet he found himself only thinking about you.

“What now?” You said, suddenly pulling Jeonghan from his thoughts. Your voice was soft against his tired mind.

“Safe house. Just for a moment while things settle. There’s still some cleaning up to do.”

You sighed and buried your face into the blanket.

A moment passed before Jeonghan spoke again.

“I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you. And that's a promise.”

For a reason only god knew, Jeonghan's voice still felt like a warm hug swaddling you tightly.

“Fuck. You.”

Your voice was muffled in the blanket but his sigh told you he heard you loud and clear.

That was the last bit of fight you had left. You already knew that no matter how messed up the situation was, you believed his every word.

☾

The next morning you left for the safe house. The drive was long and the roads were whindy and yet you napped in the back seat while Jeonghan silently drove.

Jeonghan found himself peaking in the rear view mirror often to catch a glimpse of your peaceful face.

‘There’s a special place in hell for people like me.’ He thought to himself.

Not wanting to wake you or have you wake up alone, Jeonghan waited in the car despite having arrived 2 hours earlier.

Your eyelids fluttered awake as the sun beamed through the open car windows. Jeonghan was still in the driver's seat quietly speaking on the phone. His eyes shot to the rearview and he gave you a smile. Unfortunately it was just as charming as ever.

“Yeah I’ll call you back.” He said into the phone and hanging up before getting out of the car and opening the door for you.

You nearly tripped on your way out the car as you took in the view around you. The gorgeously quaint cottage house was surrounded by miles of luscious land. There were chickens clucking around and to your far left there was a horse grazing. It was beyond beautiful. It was dream-esque and… secluded?

“Did you bring me here to kill me?” You asked seriously.

He chuckled butterflies straight into your stomach and shook his head.

“If I wanted you dead, why would I bring you here? Why not just leave you with Stella?

All you could do was shrug.

“Stella? So that is the person I need to thank for the bruises.” You said with a forced laugh.

Jeonghan's lips tightened into a thin line, a flicker of anger crossing his elegant features at the sound of Stella's nasty name on your pretty lips. "Don’t concern yourself with that" he muttered, his voice dressed in bitterness and disgust. "She's...been dealt with."

With that he walked away, closing the conversation.

He opened the door for you, letting you walk in first before following and shutting the door behind you two. The house was lit beautifully golden with the sunsets glow.

You turned to him with your eyebrows furrowed.

"Dealt with?"

“The mouse pays for the cheese with it’s life.” He said with a nonchalant shrug as he walked to the kitchen

“Jeonghan!”

You raised your voice and crossed your arms feeling a bit like an indignant child.

“Hmm?” Jeonghan hummed back without even so much as looking at you. He was shuffling through the refrigerator.

“Did you use me as bait in some sort of twisted lovers spat?” You felt your blood boiling as your pulse quickened.

“Hardly.” Jeonghan said, his haphazard attitude now starting to tick you off.

“I’m already trapped in the middle of nowhere with you. The least you can do is look at me and give me a proper explanation!”

“Look.” He said suddenly slamming the refrigerator closed, walking towards you until he was so close you had to take a step back.

“Stella was never my lover or anything like that. She was some crazy bitch who we did trade with. The skank was fucking obsessed with me, always making advances. Anyway she was running some druggie club that took part in human trafficking and shit.”

He walked back to the kitchen now, angrily pulling things from the refrigerator while he spoke. You pulled yourself onto one of the counters and listened.

“You see it’s pretty well know that the Yoons don’t fuck with that kind of shit so we were obviously gonna be a problem. I guess her and a few other wannabes got together with a grand idea and put a hit on my family. To try and scare us off I suppose. We lost good men that night.”

He paused for a moment, his expression suddenly somber but he shook it off and continued.

“That was enough incentive to put an end to her shit but that rat was hard to find. Except I would get letters from her, sometimes super detailed with mentions of things that happened to me the night before. I had a little fun at Rosie’s House and the girl showed up the next day in bad shape. Told me I wasn’t welcome back anymore. That's when we got an idea.”

He stopped tossing out the old food from the refrigerator and turned to you before leaning against the counter, his arms on either side of your body.

Your breath hitch but you did your best to act unaffected by him.

“When I saw you at that restaurant I knew it would drive her crazy. You were absolutely stunning.” His eyes flickered across your body and your treacherous heart went leaping for him.

“It wasn't enough to sleep with you. She had to think I was really seeing you. That way she’d wanna snatch you up and figure out why, leading us right to her.”

He backed up and sighed. You took a few breaths, trying to steady your racing heart.

He leaned against the opposite counter, eyes still watching you as he thought over his next words.

“…She actually found you pretty early on. The night I’d shown up…the night we…Shit was supposed to go down that night but…anyway I couldn’t show up after screwing shit up so I…went to you..”

Jeonghan shrugged his shoulders. Looking down he began picking at a callous on his palm.

“How did you even find where she took me?”

He stood up straight and pointed to your ears before turning around and unpacking the new food he purchased during a pit stop on the way here.

“Are you hungry? There's some kimbap here if you’d like.”

You slowly touched your earrings as sadness pinched your heart..

“No thank you.” You needed a moment to collect your thoughts. “ I’m gonna go and wash up.

“Oh right. Let me show you your room.”

Your room was cozy and spacious. Without waiting for him to leave you kicked off your shoes and pulled your sweaty shirt over your head, tossing it into the basket in a corner that said laundry on it.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Jeonghan said as he turned away to head out.

“Wait—“

He quickly turned back around, inquisition painting his face and he tried to rapid fire reasons in his brains as to why you’d ask him to stay while you pulled off your clothes.

“Can you help me wrap a new bandage?”

He nodded slowly. “Sure. Just call me when you’re done.”

You nodded and he left, closing the door behind him.

Did you really just ask him to wrap the bandage for you? You laid your face in your hands in exhaustion. ‘Whatever’ you told yourself as you pulled off the rest of your clothes. ‘Not like he hasn't seen them already.’

You reasoned with yourself and decided that shyness wasn’t worth losing sleep due to pain. Angrily you took out the earrings and tossed them somewhere on the floor.

You showered as quickly as you could with your sore body before drying off and lotioning as best as you could. You rummaged through the duffel bag of toiletries and clothes that Jeonghan had given you, putting on deodorant and slipping on a pair of panties and sweatpants. You wrapped your towel back around you and took a deep breath that you instantly regret when you felt the pain shoot through you. The pain was also a reminder to suck it up and go find Jeonghan.

You poked your head out of your door. “Jeonghan?” You called softly as you looked around the hallway.

When you didn’t get a response you walked towards the door across from yours and knocked. You heard movement inside the room and Jeonghan pulled open the door with a gentle smile on his face.

“Come in.”

He pulled open the door all the way and walked into the room. You hesitated for a moment and he looked back at you, amusement obvious in the twinkle of his eyes.

“Sit here.” He gestured to his bed where he had a first aid kit already open.

You scowled at him before shuffling into the room and sitting on the bed. You tried not to think about how pleasantly the room smelled of him.

Sitting next to you he faced you and waited. When you didn’t budge he lifted his hands towards your towel, stopping in front of your folded towel.

“May I?”

You nodded in response and set your arms down to your side.

He untucked the towel, letting it fall to your hips and revealing the tender skin underneath.

The room felt cold and your face burned hot.

When he bent down to pick up a jar of cream off of the floor you noticed the bright red of his ears.

He showed you the jar of medicinal cream before opening it and carefully scooping some with his fingers. “This will help with the pain, the healing, and the bruising. Kim makes it for me.”

You watched his hands move with careful elegance and he gingerly rubbed your bruises with the cooling cream. The strong medicinal smell was relaxing as he worked.

His movements were soft and graceful as he did his best to focus on his work and not your perked nipples or the soft rounds of your breast.

Unrolling the bandage he tenderly wrapped the stretchy material around your chest that now ached for more reasons than just bruises.

You couldn’t help exploring his face as he worked. His skin was smooth save for his chin that had a little light stubble on it. His warm brown eyes squinted as he focused on his task, long straight eyelashes fluttering with every movement. His pink lips pressed into a line while his nose would scrunch in concentration.

There was still an heinously undeniable connection that tethered you to him, an energy that left you feeling breathless and warm.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Jeonghan's eyes met yours, his gaze softening with emotions you felt all too intensely.

He was now working the bandage upward to your breast and you could feel his hands slow.

He continued wrapping, his calluses finger tips grazing against your nipples sending your nerves into a frenzy. You swallowed, keeping your eyes on everything except him until he was finished.

Already feeling hot and bothered you felt a sense of relief wash over you now that his careful ministrations were complete.

You went to stand and he stopped you with a hand on your arm. Opening the cream again he took more out and began rubbing it into the bruise on your arm.

His fingers felt heavenly against your skin as he rubbed more into another bruise on your shoulder.

“Turn around.”

You complied, turning on the bed and showing him your back. This time his touch made you shiver as his nimble fingers traced along your spine.

“Sorry, you must be cold. I’m almost done.”

You felt disappointment settled in as his fingers pulled away from your tender skin.

He stood up and went to his drawer, opened it and pulled out a shirt.

“Here. Lift your arms a bit.”

You complied and Jeonghan carefully guided your arms through each arm hole before pulling the shirt over your head.

Jeonghan sat down on the floor in front of you, pulling up your pant leg.

“What are you doing?” You asked but didn’t pull your foot away from his warm hand where he cradled it.

“I noticed you walk with a bit of a limp.” He replied softly as he rubbed the cream into your ankle before taking another bandage and wrapping the slightly swollen joint.

He closed the jar and handed it to you.

“If you find any more bruises, rub this on them.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t.” His voice was quiet and suddenly cold.

You looked down, meeting his heavy eyes. Your ankle still rested softly in his hands making for a tense atmosphere as he held your gaze.

The expression on his face was unreadable as he carefully let you go and stood up.

Grabbing your hand he pulled you towards him, his body pressed against yours, his face inches away, his other hand holding your waist firmly against him.

Unmoving you breathed in sync as if you both had finished a complicated dance together. You felt the pounding of his heart against the pounding of yours.

“Jeonghan…”

The way you called his name made his head spin.

He let you go and backed away.

“I put the food in the refrigerator.” He said heading for the door. “You are welcome to do whatever you want here.”

“Wait! Are you leaving?” Your voice came panicked as you followed him out of his room.

“I’ve got things to do. I’ll be back tonight.” He said as you trailed behind him down the stairs.

“But Jeonghan… please.” You pleaded. Feeling too vulnerable to finish the sentence.

He turned to you this time.

“It’s okay. I’ll be back-“

You cut him off with a kiss, your arms thrown around his neck. As his shock faded, he rested his hands on your face, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss.

Your lips were so soft against his and when you parted your lips he found your taste to be intoxicating.

Wrapped in the moment it took him a little bit to notice that suddenly your body was shaking.

Pulling back he saw the tears rolling down your face.

As you clung to Jeonghan with all your might you couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that spilled out. Even after everything that happened he still felt so warm against you. As his arms wrapped around and pulled you close. you felt like everything would be okay.

Jeonghan held you just like that as you cried out the last couple weeks events.

In his arms your world crumbled.

So why was there nowhere else you wanted to be?

No one else you wanted to be with.

WANT MORE FROM ME?

Click HERE!

PART 2

[starlightxsvt]

Treacherous Tales | 97z mafia au

Three districts. Three tales of treachery and obsession.

Beautiful Liar

pairing ➳ professor!dk x weapons dealer fem!reader

genre ➳ dark romance, angst, smut

synopsis ➳ you have old scores to settle and he's a pretty pawn in your game. but one must remember obsession leads to destruction.

release date: 01.03.24

read here!

She's The One

pairing ➳ mafia heir!mingyu x civilian fem!reader

genre ➳ romance, smut, angst

synopsis ➳ he's the man you don't even dare to dream of. you're his new obsession. it's hard to figure out if he's just playing around or being serious, especially when there's danger lurking around the corner.

release date: tba

The Dreaming

pairing ➳ mafia don!the8 x mafia heiress!reader

genre ➳ drama, enemies to lovers, smut

synopsis ➳ you were born to be enemies. but a new threat forces your families to team up and you hate it. you hate him. right?

release date: tba

A/N: So, this teaser was supposed to come out in early January but shit happened and thus, I'm late. Apologies for that, peeps! I hope you all have been doing well & I hope y'all anticipate the release of this series. Tbh I haven't even seriously started mapping out Mingyu & Hao's story but we'll see where the winds take us, lol. For now, I'm still working on DK's story but hopefully I'll be done with it by the 14th. Until then, stay safe! 🩵

[wooahaeruby]

Blood Stained Hands

Summary

One mistake leads to the downward spiral of the life you once knew. Everything made sense once, but now...everything made sense differently. Are you willing to risk everything for the people you've come to love? A Poly SVT (only a few members) x Reader fic with relationships added as time goes on Jeonghan x Reader & Joshua x Reader & ????? x Reader

Tags/TW

Mafia AU, Polyamory, G*ns and Dr*gs mentions, Violence, Organized Crime, Death Threats, Other Kpop groups are mentioned, Female Reader, Trauma, PTSD, Slow Burn, M*rder/People Die, Read at your own risk Some chapters will have specific Trigger Warnings!

Author's Notes

This is my villain arch. This is years worth of watching crime shows and losing my mind which ended up in...this. Yeah... I don't have a lot to say for myself with this one, I just wrote and wrote and wrote and It got longer and longer and now we are here.

Status: Incomplete/WIP

Current WC: TBD

Current Chapter Count: 44

Chapters

Under Dimmed Street Lights

Umbrella to Stand Under, Together

Stupid is As Stupid Does

Intro Fire Brings Light

Light Brings Warmth

New Bonds

New World Unraveled

Checkmate

First Rule About Fight Club

Don't Talk About Fight Club

Birthday Blue

Heart On The Light

Sky Walking

Rose Tinted Glasses

A Night to Remember

A Night You'll Never Forget

When The Sun Shines

One Shot, Two Shot

Plans Within Plans

Plans Within the Plans of Plans

Stupid Games

Stupid Prizes

Two is Better Than One

Never Alone

A Step Forward

New Perspectives

One Eye Open

A Hand to Hold

Snap of A Heart

Crash and Burn

Shot for Shot

Two Sides of The Same Coin

Sparks

143

Three Steps Forward

Four Million Steps Back

A Very SVT Christmas

Misery Business

Heavy Clouds

Lost & Found

Stuck in Limbo

Bottom of the Stairs

Light Behind The Door

Healing Starts Slow

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: seungcheol x fem!reader

Requested: no

Release date: 24-04-24

Genre: mafia au, reverse of getting kidnaped by the mafia boss, fluff, e2l, crack, assistant au

Warning(s): mention of abduction, guns?, cheol is a menace, brief mentions of drugs (do tell me if i missed anything)

summary: It was not supposed to be like this, it was a meticulous plan perfectly curated by you, Jun and Seokmin. You were supposed to go get the man who was the future heir of the Kim Corps named Mingyu, you ever had a pic of his. Most importantly it was definitely not supposed to be the man who now sits in your basement claiming that he is the leader of the mafia organisation you three work for.

Word count: 5.8k

Other works

Beta reader(s): @wonuwrites-main and @anonmonty (sweet sweet angles helped me with proof reading, or else im fucking incompetent)

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask.

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

It is a beautiful day, and like they always say: beautiful things happen on beautiful days, and you were damn ready for the said beautiful thing to happen!

The plan is simple—you and Jun have gone over it at least fifty times, and Seokmin has been standing there listening to you both intently throughout the whole ordeal. 

“So, let’s go over it once again,” you say, pointing at the white board with the picture of a man, Mingyu to be exact, the heir to the Kim Corp. and your target. 

“He leaves his office to have coffee every afternoon exactly at 3pm at the nearest café named ‘Carvery’, am I right?” Jun and Seokmin nod with a concentrated look on their faces. 

“Next he goes to the park, sits there for fifteen minutes, on most days, and then takes the path that leads them straight back to the building, correct?” The two men again nod, and then Jun takes over the talking. 

“More often than not, he hates company during his afternoon runs, so the best chance we have of abducting the man is when he is between the café and the park. This will give us at least a twenty-minute head start before the police and his family start looking for him.” 

Now you and Seokmin nod at the man, and Seokmin takes the podium to present the next part. 

“Jun and I will be on the streets while y/n waits in the car, and from the background check we ran last month, we know the man is well trained in martial arts, so we will try and attack him with the anesthetic as soon as possible.” 

“And after the guy is unconscious, we will flee with his ass~,” adds Jun. 

“Sounds like a solid plan,” you laugh as you high five the two men. 

Indeed, it was a solid plan. You three had considered every possibility and chosen this day to execute your plan. It’s perfect and thorough, so what can go wrong? 

-- 

A lot apparently. 

You reached the destination ten minutes early to give Seokmin and Jun ample amount of time to prepare for the attack. 

As you parked your car near the pavement where the abduction would take place, you see a man walk past the car wearing a beige trench coat with some sort of concoction from the coffee shop. 

Now if you were a seasoned abductor, you would have known not to mess with the person as the timing was not right. But that was not the case, and seeing a person who vaguely matched the physical descriptions of the man you were actually supposed to abduct gave you enough reason to jump the gun and take this man hostage. 

Before you could process anything, Seokmin jumped on the guy, trying to tackle him while Jun tried to find a way to inject the drug into his system. After another minute of struggle, taking at least five punches in their abdomen and faces, both the men were successful in sedating the man.  

They hurriedly carried him to the car and you three sped off to the base to ask his family for ransom. 

-- 

You have been back at the base for three hours now. As you look at the unconscious man tied to the chair in front, you realize the grave mistake you made by not seeing his face the minute you were actually kidnapping him. 

“I mean if you look at his eyes, they look very similar to the real target, you know. Maybe he ate too much last night and is a bit swollen now,” Jun says in a wise tone. Now if you were stupid like Seokmin, you would have accepted this analogy of his just like the hundred others he had spewed in the past two hours, but you are not. So, you hit the guy’s head while calmly saying. 

“Will you keep quiet for a minute? You know as well as I that this is the wrong man. We don’t even know who he actually is. So, we wait for him to gain consciousness and then interrogate him.”  

You have figured that screaming and crying will get you nowhere. All it will do is trigger Seokmin’s panic attack, and you do not think he can manage another one after the one hour long one he just resurfaced from.  

“Our best bet is that we abducted a pretty important dude, or else we know the boss will have our meat served to his dogs for their nightly feasts,” you continued. 

“I can see he is wearing pretty costly brands all over. My guts say he is rich,” Seokmin pipes up. 

“Seok, your gut told you to scream for the past hour. I don’t trust it a lot now,” you complain. 

“I think it’s your fault, too. You should have stopped us from abducting the guy instead of just staring from the car, you know,” Jun says. 

Now, you will consider yourself to be a level-headed person, but one thing that gets to you more than anything else is a false accusation. On top of that, the bitch has the gal to accuse you of being careless when they were the ones showing literally no care about their work, owing to the fact you were not even supposed to abduct the untouchable Kim Mingyu in the first place. The leader of your clan, although you three had never seen him, mostly operated through Jeonghan, his right-hand man. The guy you agreed to kidnap was apparently remarkably close to your boss. But when faced with the tough choice of loyalty towards one gang and the lump sum of three million, you three had to face the situation and betray your gang. You know you should not, but the small jobs with the gang were not enough to even pay your rent!  

So, who does Jun think he is to shift the blame towards you when you have done nothing but try to make a secure living for all three of you. Therefore, you do the thing that your sane brain advises you to. 

Go off at Jun. 

“So, if I fail to babysit two grown men while on an extremely important mission that included them, the blame is shifted towards me?!” 

“You were both supposed to wait for my instructions before confronting the poor bloke. Now, if things go wrong, it will be your faults, and I will be dragged into it because I was the main brain behind the planning.”  

“Guys, I think we should focus on the guy more; I think he is stirring.” 

This statement from Seokmin caught both of your attention, causing you to cease the argument immediately to take a look at the man in front of you. 

Without hesitation, you put your gun on his head and ask, “who are you, tell us about yourself.” 

The man albeit good looking with his doe eyes and plump lips, gave you three a mean stare before speaking sassily. 

“Shouldn’t you know the identity of the person you kidnap?” 

“If we knew, I don’t think I would have asked about you,” you reply. 

The man scoffs before informing you the most gut-wrenching piece of information you have ever heard. 

“I’m Choi Seungcheol leader of Choi Clan.” 

-- 

When Seungcheol met Mingyu today, he was feeling particularly drained and sought the comfort of a familiar face, longing for a brief respite from the relentless demands of his job. Mingyu, sensing his friend's exhaustion, proposed they take a detour to unwind, considering Seungcheol's grueling schedule. Gratefully accepting the suggestion, Seungcheol had embarked on what he thought would be a much-needed moment of relaxation. 

Oh, how wrong he was. 

As he leisurely sipped his coffee, enjoying a fleeting moment of calm, the tranquility was shattered by the sudden onslaught of a group of thugs. Seungcheol had braced himself for a possible mugging, but the idea of being abducted never crossed his mind. He curses himself for sending Soonyoung away earlier, now regretting not having company in this unforeseen predicament. 

To make matters worse, Seungcheol felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. A mafia boss getting abducted! 

How humiliating.  

Now, do not get him wrong, he was, in reality, as far from incompetent as the Sahara was from water, as Seungkwan was from being calm, as Jihoon was from showing affection—you get the point. 

In fact, he had been the first in three generations to successfully reclaim the southeastern part of the city for his clan from the Yoon family, a testament to his capabilities. 

Now bound and surrounded by three hapless captors whose incompetence was glaringly evident, judging by the one who he suspects was crying prior to their conversation with him. He suspected they had targeted Mingyu, but mistakenly seized him instead. Seungcheol could not help but shake his head at their sheer incompetence. 

Now, again, he is not that scared. He knows he has a trusted pack of workers who would join heaven and earth in search of him. No, he is least bothered about himself. 

What he is actually bothered about is who planned to abduct Mingyu, because he is strictly off limits for his clan members. He knows this as much as anyone that they respect the young heir a lot, not only due to his kind nature, but also because of the relationship he has with their leader. 

So, when he informs his three kidnappers his name, he gets the weirdest of responses ever—a chorus of ‘shits’ and ‘fucks.’ Moreover, he sees all three of his kidnappers suddenly fall down at his feet and grumbling out the most nonsensical bullshit ever. The only words he vaguely captures are ‘it was supposed to be someone else’ and ‘sirs’. 

This confuses the man even more. But then he suddenly sees all three of them take their masks off, revealing two men and, dare he say, a very gorgeous woman. Now in any other situation,

Seungcheol would have laughed, but now that he is in it himself, the only reaction he can provide is a confused head nod as the woman immediately goes to untie his hands. 

-- 

“So, you are telling me that you were paid to abduct my friend who you know is off limits, but still went ahead with the idea, even though you are the members of my gang?!”  

He says as he looks at your group standing in front of him with their heads bowed down looking like kids getting scolded.  

“But sir, we barely make any money from doing the jobs assigned to us. The only way for us to pay our rent was for taking up jobs from outside, and this one paid us a huge sum. We never wanted you to be the one getting abducted instead, we swear!” you suddenly exclaim with the extreme need to explain yourself. 

Your two partners beside you do their dutiful job by nodding their heads with your rant. 

“You three fucked up really bad, didn’t you?” He says, looking a tad bit amused. 

“We are really sorry!” Seokmin chokes out, visibly scared by the whole ordeal. 

“Well, it’s time I go back, so take me back to the office.” 

Right after that statement comes out of his mouth, you three are escorting him out of the door to the car parked outside to take him back. 

-- 

“So, you are telling me these three, these newbies who literally didn’t have any good job for them to gain experience, drugged your ass and took you to god knows where, and you couldn’t even put up a good fight?!” 

Jeonghan exclaims, looking at the seated, nervous, and scared faces of the three of you from Seungcheol’s office’s glass. 

“Apparently not,” the older man sighs. 

“My friend, are you sure you are a real mafia? Because in light of the current happenings, I am starting to question your integrity a lot.” Jeonghan says as he barks out a laugh, taking immense pleasure at his friend’s humiliation. 

“Or maybe you were too caught up staring at the pretty lady to notice that you were getting kidnapped.” 

The bitch continues to make fun of the older man. 

“I just thought I was getting mugged, so I didn’t fight hard enough. Who knew I would be kidnapped instead.” Seungcheol grumbles, pouting a bit. 

“Which is even worse, because you are telling me you would have let people just mug you for no reason when you are one of the most influential people underground!” Jeonghan said while looking pretty concerned about the statement his superior just spewed, and he does indeed have a hard time accepting it. 

“Ahh! Just get over with it and let me go. Plus make sure the three of them face the appropriate consequences for not only abducting me, but also trying to abduct my friend,” Seungcheol barks out while walking out, thoroughly humiliated, and annoyed that his junior was having fun at his expense. 

So Jeonghan does the very thing at which he is extremely good. 

Create chaos. 

 Right after his superior leaves, he strides towards the group and says, “so because the boss has instructed me to do something with you three which will stop you guys from going off the hook, I’m going to assign you some jobs in the organization because I can.” 

Now, anyone even vaguely familiar with Jeonghan would recognize the expression he wore just before chaos ensued, but contrary to popular belief, Jeonghan is actually quite amiable—at least, that is what he believes, and that is what matters, right? 

He continues, “Junhui, you will be overseeing the artillery division. Our deputy head Chan will ensure you are well informed about your job. You will meet him tomorrow. As for Seokmin,” he paused, a sly smile crossing his face, which made Seokmin visibly nervous, “You, my friend, will be our esteemed boss's driver. Lastly, y/n, you will be his assistant. You shall be meeting Chan tomorrow, too; he will explain the workings of your new role.” 

Normally, in any ordinary conversation, you would not dare ask inappropriate questions, but the circumstances were far from normal, so you proceeded with the most audacious question you could muster: “Why did Chan leave his previous post?” 

Jeonghan politely responded, “He left because the job didn’t suit him, so we shifted him to the artillery department as a deputy head.” 

Unspoken was the fact that Chan had been worn down by the boss's relentless bullying, quietly requesting a transfer for at least three years before Jeonghan finally relented. Since then, the turnover of assistants had been alarmingly high. Jeonghan desperately hoped you would stick around. Moreover, if either you or Seungcheol objected to this arrangement, he had enough leverage to ensure you both comply. Enough dirt to keep both of you in line. 

-- 

Your meeting with Chan the next day went well. He explained to you the workings, gave you tips and tricks on how to make sure all the work gets done. Overall, a 10/10 experience, except the small hiccup at the end where he cryptically said something along the lines of “Best of all fucking luck with this job because you will need it.” 

Now a small best of luck is never a bad gesture, but that statement! 

That shit was a bit too hostile, even for you. But you are fine, happy even. Anything that saves you from getting your life cut short by a mafia leader is always welcomed. 

-- 

“What are you doing here?”  

“Where is Jeonghan?” 

The first two sentences to ever leave The Choi Seungcheol’s mouth the minute he sees your face when he comes into his office that afternoon. Indeed, so delightful! 

"Sir, I've been assigned as your work assistant for the time being," you reply, your eyes downcast. It is a surreal turn of events considering just yesterday this man was tied up in your basement. After that ordeal, everything seemed to take on a different hue, almost as if you were hearing the bells of heaven. So, that reaction seems pretty appropriate to you given the circumstances. 

Now you see our oh so beloved Mr. Choi was not just an underground mob because what is the fun in that, right! He mostly did international business under the guise of his company named The ChoiTech, solely based on providing technological change using sustainable means. Pretty cleaver tactic, although overused, but still gets the job done, so who are you to judge. 

The man looking extremely shocked at your statement immediately rushed inside his office, you presume, to call Jeonghan. And sure enough, within five minutes of him disappearing from your sight, you could hear him loudly complaining to his secretary on the phone. “But Jeonghan I can’t be collaborating with her, after what she did to me yesterday!” 

The man whined and then suddenly you could hear hushed whispers, so being the curious cat you were, slowly crept near the door to hear the conversation better. 

“But man, it’s humiliating. She kidnapped me for fucks sake”, the oh so powerful man, who people assumed will one day rule the underworld, whined like a kid who has been denied to go on a playdate with their best friend. 

By this time, you were almost pressed onto the door when suddenly the sound of someone clearing their throat made you jump away from it and look about for the person who stopped you from consuming you daily dose of gossip. 

The culprit, Joshua, stood right in front of your desk with an amused look on his face. 

Now Joshua is someone you were extremely familiar with, being the man who took care of assigning roles to the lower members of the group, you have had a lot of angry conversations with him. 

“I would ask you if Seungcheol is busy, but the way you were trying so hard to eavesdrop, makes me think otherwise,” he says, making you roll your eyes. 

“Just give me a minute to tell him you are here, then you can go in.” 

The man nodded still looking thoroughly amused at how sad you looked due to missing out on whatever conversation you were listening to. 

After a minute, the man was inside, now looking even happier that he has seen his next victim to torment. 

-- 

“So Jeonghan was indeed right,” he said, looking like he was having a tough time controlling his laugh. 

“Not you, too,” the pouty man whined from behind the desk. “But really, can you tell him to not put that woman as my assistant? I get war flashbacks every time I see her face,” he continued whining. 

“I mean, I could do that, but where is the fun there, right!” Joshua, thoroughly enjoying his boss’s misery, replied. “But in all seriousness, you could just treat her like Chan. The boy is still traumatized by the amount of work you made him do,” he thoughtfully added. 

The older replies, “I liked Chan, he was nice, would do anything you ask him to!” 

“And so will she. Her life is at stake here, give her some benefit of the doubt.” 

This statement made the older think like never before. Plans of tormenting you to quit your job rushing past his brain at high speed. Suddenly everything made sense. 

“I can take my revenge! That is exactly why Jeonghan made her my assistant. Oh, my friend is such a genius!” Seungcheol said, looking a bit too enthusiastic. 

“Ok, I am sure it was done to decrease his workload, but whatever you say, man,” the younger said skeptically after seeing the diabolical look on the elder’s face. 

-- 

It has already been three weeks and suddenly you understand what Chan meant all those days back when he wished you good luck. To put it quite plainly, your boss is crazy. 

The man was a combination of workaholic and perfectionist, which resulted in him getting swamped by work and by default the same fate befalls you every day, too. For the past three weeks, you have had a challenging time at the office to even take a break to eat food. 

The men you called your enemies once, aka Jeonghan and Joshua, are the ones now saving you from dying out of malnutrition. You are eternally thankful to them. But more than anything now, you regret trying to kidnap Kim Mingyu—the name makes you want to cry in a corner and throw rocks at people, if you had any time to do so. 

“Sir, you scheduled two appointments at the same time: the new project for the Orin Community Park and another one with Mr. Xu for the narcotic deal.” 

You informed the man who had his face shoved in some papers, reading something diligently.  

“Why did you not stop me from doing so then, you were right beside me when I was going through the plan.” 

Now, it is your job to curate the perfect schedule for the man to follow, but Seungcheol being the guy born only to cause you inconvenience made his schedule for the week himself this time. 

Why you might ask?

Purely because the man is a chronic insomniac and whenever he has trouble sleeping, instead of taking measures to have a peaceful sleep, he tries his hands in different works because he can, and this time his victim was the poor, poor schedule of his. 

“Because you had already sent them both emails, sir,” you say, thoroughly exasperated. 

“Ok maybe I did, so now I obviously can’t cancel on both so you figure out something so that I can attend both the meetings, because I ain’t missing any.” 

The man just turns his chair around and keeps reading whatever he was reading in the first place.

With an extremely calm voice, you say, “sir I need you to stop trying to do something to pass time when you can’t sleep. I need you to actually go to a doctor.”  “Can’t,” comes his response, making you sigh more. 

Sometimes it feels like you are working as a babysitter to a grown man instead of an assistant to a CEO. 

Seeing the conversation would be going nowhere if you keep talking to him, you go out and do the second-best thing in your books. 

Call Chan. 

“Lemme guess, the boss is giving you a hard time!” The first sentence he says right after picking up the phone. 

Sighing, you tell him all of Seungcheol’s various administrative behaviors throughout this week. When you got to the part where he had so bravely and meticulously made the perfect schedule, Chan started laughing. The gall of that boy! 

“Wait, he still does that!” He exclaimed between his laughs, making you feel even more annoyed. 

After calming down he says, “just make Jeonghan or Jihoon go for the community meeting and let him manage the narc. I know you are thankful, so do not mention it, but maybe buy me a meal when you are free, as a repayment.” 

Chuckling at the younger boy, you agreed to get him whatever he asks for purely because he is a literal angel, and he deserves the world. Ok, maybe it is a bit too dramatic, but the boy was indeed your angel in disguise. 

Planning on following through with the advice Chan gave you, you called both Jeonghan and Jihoon simultaneously. As Jeonghan was busy, Jihoon accepted the work of going to the community welfare meeting instead of Seungcheol. 

After that, the whole day was smooth sailing. But the main root of all your problems was happy, maybe not healthy, but the look of pure happiness and the twinkling eyes when he passed by your desk was hard to miss.  

This man was slowly but surely making sure to strip you of your patience bit by bit. 

--  

The last straw to eradicating your already depleting patience came when Seungcheol in all his glory, during one of his nightly ‘Imma take away other’s jobs because sleep refuses to befriend me’ escapades, deleted all your assistant notes for the server by mistake. 

You still are baffled as to how he did that. Truth be told so is he. He was scrolling away on his phone when he saw this reel about ‘how to increase your Wi-Fi speed.’ Extremely intrigued by it, he had actually tried to increase the internet speed in his house, and he swears on every god on planet earth it worked. So, he tried doing so with the one in his office, which weirdly enough resulted in removal of all the information that you had stored in your laptop. 

Now if this would have happened to his computer, too, you would not have gotten as angry as you were, but the motherfucker’s computer was all well and good and if you actually pay attention, it seems that his internet speed has increased, too! 

How this man become a CEO is beyond you. What is not so beyond is your pure hatred for him and his technologically challenged ass. 

So that night when Seungcheol, stayed back as usual to do work, you took your chances, entered his office, and slammed a ball of yarn and two knitting needles on his table while scaring the life out of the, not so, poor man. 

“Start knitting!” you calmly said. 

“But I don’t know how to though!” he replies, thoroughly confused. 

“Then learn, Seungcheol! I don’t care what you want to do, I need you to learn and pick up a hobby, start gaming, try knitting anything! Just make sure you are not trying to turn the office upside down.” 

Anyone who knows Seungcheol also knows never to question his nightly routines, but more than that, they also know the pride of the man is too high to ever accept his mistake. So, when you commit the grave crime of pointing out his mishap with the Wi-Fi router that morning, you hit the nail on the head and pissed him to the fucking moon. 

“So, you think I’m bad at what I do?!” 

“No, I think you are technically inept. And you should leave it to people who are good at it.” 

This pisses off Seungcheol more than anything, but you don’t let him intervene as you keep speaking. 

“On top of that you are constantly making changes in your schedule without informing me. You’re your assistant. Maybe have you ever considered the fact that your schedule was made so that your day is smooth sailing, and no two activities overlap!” 

“Just because you refuse to go to a doctor and try and find a way to manage your stress does not mean you make the workplace hell for us.” 

By the end of your rant, you were fuming and Seungcheol was stunned. 

Clearing his throat, he says awkwardly, “I’m sorry you feel so, I will try and fix my schedule.” 

Now, although this statement made you feel better, it also confused you, as you were fully prepared to have a full-blown fight with the man. Him backing down was never an option. But now that it has happened, you muttered a small, “I shall be going then”, to which your boss meekly nodded. 

After you were outside, you ended up feeling better due to unloading all your anger on the man. It was refreshing. Now you just needed to see what changes tomorrow will bring for Seungcheol. 

-- 

It had been two months since you had the argument with Seungcheol, more like your single woman shouting spree. But things have been better. He has tried to keep his need for new experiences down and this has made your life exponentially easier.  

Did you now have time to eat. Absolutely not! 

But the office was not a nightmare anymore.  

If someone would have told you five months ago that this is what your future held for you, you would have straight up laughed at their face and told them to get themselves checked. But life has weird ways of throwing you in situations you don’t expect yourself to be in, and you have no other ways of getting out but learn to go with the flow. 

You sometimes talk to Jun and Seokmin, and you have realized you got the hardest of all the jobs.

You asked Jeonghan about it once and his answer was, “because I can and its fun!” 

So here you are sitting on the couch with Seokmin while enjoying your sandwich when you see Seungcheol come outside carrying a bag, Jeonghan trailing behind him sporting this devilish look on his face. 

The big man walks towards you and hands you the bag. Opening it you notice a green scarf sitting at the bottom. 

“Seungcheol’s first knitting creation, and he says thank you for forcing him to learn knitting. It helps him sleep now.” Jeonghan says while pointing at the bag even before the older man could open his mouth. 

Seokmin tries to make himself as invisible as possible while looking extremely interested in the whole situation unfolding in front of him. 

Seungcheol waves his hands at Jeonghan trying to hush him down and whines, “let me speak!” 

“I made this cause you told me it would help me sleep! I didn’t think it could actually help me, but it looks like it did, so I’m extremely thankful for your suggestion.”

“Good job!” Jeonghan says, patting Seungcheol’s head like he was a child, making you laugh a bit. 

“Thank you for listening to me, sir!” 

“Oh, no, call him by his name, or else he will become weird with you again!” Jeonghan says, making you laugh again. Seungcheol pouts at both of you and storms back to his office, with Jeonghan at his tail making fun of him yet again. 

After that, you kept the bag in your desk and went to bid your friend goodbye. 

“He looked like he was confessing to his crush, you know”, Seokmin muses. 

“Maybe he has a crush on you!” He exclaimed after pausing for a moment. 

“I don’t, he is a weird person,” you had replied thoughtfully. 

Realizing he has been chatting with you for a long time, Seokmin quickly rushes outside while loudly screaming a ‘goodbye’ for the whole building to hear. 

When you came back to your desk, Jeonghan was waiting for you there. The man just looked at you with a smirk and said, “see you later y/n, and make sure to wear the scarf!” 

Jeonghan is a weird person. You more often than not don’t listen to what he tells you to do. He forces you to do them anyways. 

“Seriously, lady, do wear the scarf. Plus, it’s cold outside—you won’t get a heatstroke if you do so.” 

With that he was outside of the office, too. Slowly work caught up with you and you forgot about the scarf altogether. 

-- 

That evening, as you were finishing up at work and preparing to leave, you grabbed the scarf that had been gifted to you and wrapped it around your neck before stepping out of the office. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man who had given you the scarf felt a rush of joy upon seeing you wear it. Concealing his flushed cheeks, he quietly followed you out and spontaneously invited you to join him for dinner, explaining that he had given Seokmin the night off and now was in extreme need of a dinner companion, as Seokmin would fill in that position on most nights. It was unusual for him to make such a request, but you were both hungry and couldn't resist the offer of a free meal, even if it was from someone as harmless as him. 

"So, what do you think?" Seungcheol asked as the two of you sat at the ramen shop waiting for your orders. 

"About what?" You replied, genuinely puzzled by his question. 

"Didn't you read the letter?" He asked, his face turning even redder as he mentioned it. 

"What letter?" You responded, glancing around until Seungcheol nodded towards the bag in which he gave you the scarf, looking inside you noticed an envelope that matched the interior perfectly sitting at the bottom. 

"Oh! I can read it now," you exclaimed. 

"Don't worry about it right now," he interjected as the waiter arrived with your bowls of ramen. 

Despite his reluctance to discuss the letter further, your curiosity only grew stronger after he dropped you off at your doorstep. Once inside your home, you wasted no time in retrieving the letter from your bag. Its contents filled you with excitement like never before. 

The following day at the office, you placed another letter on Seungcheol's desk before getting on with your usual tasks, eager to see his reaction. 

-- 

"So, let me get this straight—you've been dating our boss for the past month?" Exclaimed Jun, eyes wide with disbelief. 

"Why didn't you tell us sooner? How did this even happen?!" Chimed in Seokmin, equally stunned by the news. 

As soon as you revealed your relationship with Seungcheol, you found yourself bombarded with a flurry of questions from your friends. It was amusing to witness their sheer astonishment, and yet, deep down, it felt incredibly rewarding to share this surprising news with them.

What started as a casual hangout quickly transformed into a lively interrogation session, with your friends firing off all sorts of curious inquiries. Most pressing among them was the question: 

“How and when did all of this happen?!” 

You couldn't blame them for their curiosity. It seemed like just yesterday that you had kidnapped Seungcheol off the street instead of his friend Mingyu, which resulted in Jeonghan gaining the perfect opportunity to bully you both half to death. And let's not forget the hell and back experience you were subjected to from Seungcheol himself, the man who had once resorted to extreme tactics to get you to quit as he was reminded of the oh so humiliating experience he went through every time he saw your face. But somehow, it all worked out in the end, and you couldn't be happier about how it turned out. 

Near the end of your gathering, you couldn't resist the urge to pull out your phone and reveal the most treasured image in your gallery: a photograph capturing two pieces of paper resting on a desk. One paper bore a lengthy paragraph, while the other simply displayed a single, bold sentence: 

"Take me out on a proper date first!" 

The photo encapsulated perfectly how you both worked so well with each other. It was a sweet reminder of how unexpectedly love can bloom in the most unconventional of circumstances. 

As your friends marveled at the photo, you couldn't help but reflect on how far you and Seungcheol had come in such a short time. Despite the initial hurdles and challenges you faced with the man, you were grateful for the bond you now shared—a relationship built on laughter, friendship, and, of course, a bit of unexpected romance. 

The end hope you like it !!

[mooncats-posts]

So I've recently been into seventeen and I'm watching their mafia games, so far I've realised a few things :

1. S. Coups will blame anyone and everyone and he doesn't trust anyone

2. DK always makes himself look suspicious for fun

3. Hoshi is always targeting Mingyu

4. Poor Seungkhwan always gets killed by the mafia

5. Joshua is always a suspect

6. Vernon and Woozi survives or dies on pure luck

7. Dino is bad at hidding the fact that he's mafia whenever he is

8. Wonwoo plays smart

9. Seventeen just takes Jun's words as solid proof even if he's one of the smartest players

10. Minghao can die on the hill on defending Jun but he's scary

11. If you don't take Jeonghan out, he's going to take you out

[honeyhae-svt]

On My Command

SEVENTEEN FANFICTION (SERIES)

AFAB!READER x SEVENTEEN - MNID!!!

GENRE: Mafia, Businesses, Dark Romance, Smut, Gangs, RomCom, Action, Fem!Reader x Mafia!Seventeen, Baddie!Reader x Businessmen!Seventeen

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: Kidnapping, Nonconsent, Making Out, Needles, Blood, Language, Manipulation. -warnings for this chapter

♡-Mention of other groups like TXT, EXO, ENHA, G-IDLE, LE SSERA, NCT DREAM, RIIZE (THIS IS A SERIES SO IG I WILL BE ADDING MORE TO THAN THESE WARNINGS) - MDNI OR I WILL BLOCK THOSE WITHOUT AGE INDICATOR ON BIO.

READER IS NAMED LI MEI QIANG!!!

>>>> IMAGES ARE FROM PINTEREST so yeah, ctto. Enjoy babies. ♡

On My Command - Masterlist (Chapters)

CHAPTER 3

You woke up with a pounding headache, a dull throb reminding you of last night's events. Disoriented, you glanced around, finding yourself in an unfamiliar hotel room that screamed luxury. The sheets beneath you were crisp, the air smelled faintly of fresh linen, and the decor was a tasteful mix of modern and classic elegance. This was no ordinary hotel.

Instinctively, your hands drifted to your body, checking if you still had your clothes on. Relief washed over you as you realized you were still in the same dress from the night before. But the relief was short-lived when your gaze caught a note on the bedside table. You walked over, picking it up with trembling fingers.

The note was written in simple, bold handwriting: "我们什么也没做" — "We did nothing."

The memory of a man from last night flashed through your mind. “Oh, right... that Chinese guy…” you muttered to yourself, rubbing your temples. Everything from the night before was hazy, but you forced yourself to recall what little you could.

---

You had already downed a few shots of whiskey, the alcohol blurring the edges of reality. Suddenly, a man approached you, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. He was dressed in a sleek, jet-black suit that fit him like a glove, accentuating his tall, lean frame. The subtle sheen of the fabric caught the dim light, highlighting the sharp lines of his suit. His crisp white shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a sliver of his collarbone, adding an air of effortless charm. His burgundy tie and silver tie pin provided a splash of color and elegance that only enhanced his appeal.

His hair was slightly tousled but styled to perfection, framing a sharp jawline softened by his enigmatic smile. The way he moved, with quiet confidence and a subtle, knowing smile, made it clear that he wasn’t just wearing the suit—the suit was wearing him.

He bent down to pick something up from the floor, and when he handed it to you, you blinked a few times to see if he was real. It was your wallet that he was handing to you. You must’ve dropped it earlier, and you hadn’t even noticed. It had your ID in it, so there was no doubt it was yours. 

“他妈的,” (damn it) you cursed under your breath, realizing how close you’d come to losing it. You immediately thanked the man, who looked at you with a mix of surprise and amusement.

“No worries. And you speak Mandarin?” he asked, his interest piqued.

“Ah, yes, a little,” you replied, earning a chuckle from him.

“我没想到你是中国人,” (I wouldn’t have guessed you were Chinese) he said, catching your attention.

“You’re Chinese too?” you asked, now intrigued by the man before you.

“猜测是显而易见的，是吗？” (Isn't it obvious?) he replied with a smirk.

His words made you smile, but the alcohol was starting to cloud your judgment. The conversation flowed easily, but with each word, you felt yourself slipping deeper into a drunken haze. You reached out, grabbing his wrist to pull him closer, hoping to hear him better over the pounding music.

But instead of just leaning in, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. You weren’t trying to initiate anything intimate, but he seemed to have misunderstood your intentions.

“你在干什么？” (What are you doing?) you asked, confused by his sudden closeness.

“只是……凭直觉行事。对不起，我让你不舒服了吗？” (Just…acting on instinct. Sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?) he replied, his voice hesitant.

You chuckled at his uncertainty, and without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. The alcohol had dulled your inhibitions, and before you knew it, your lips were on his. The rest of the night was a blur of heated kisses and wandering hands, and that was the last thing you remembered.

----------------------------------------------

“Ah, shibal…” you cursed under your breath as the memory came flooding back. You couldn’t believe you had made out with a random guy. The rest of the night was a blank slate.

Shaking off the embarrassment, you quickly got dressed and left the hotel. You had no time to dwell on the past; you had work to get to, and you had already taken too many leaves recently.

Meanwhile, at the Seventeen headquarters, Woozi spread the news to the nine other members. “Enhypen is working with EXO,” he said, the room instantly growing tense. Jeonghan, Seungkwan, Vernon, and Minghao were out on a mission, leaving the six members to discuss the situation.

“They’re already planning something to attack us, so we need to act before things escalate,” Seungcheol said, his voice authoritative.

“Boss, we already have a plan,” Soonyoung chimed in, catching Woozi’s attention. “We found out that Lee Heeseung, apparently the ace of Enhypen, has been taking care of this girl. She seems very dear to him, and she’s been working under our company for a few years now.”

“So you want to kidnap her to use as leverage? We should focus on taking down EXO,” Wonwoo replied, his voice pragmatic.

“Not just that,” Soonyoung said, his tone darkening. “There’s a chance she’s an EXO spy. If we take her, it might slow their plans down.”

Seungcheol considered the idea, his mind racing with possibilities. Before he could respond, the door burst open, and Seungkwan rushed in, panting heavily. “Boss, Enhypen’s team has bombed one of our branches,” he reported, barely catching his breath.

The news made Seungcheol’s blood boil. “Those bastards,” he muttered, clenching his fists in anger. “Get that girl. Mingyu, Joshua, and Junhui, you’re in charge of the kidnapping.”

With no time to waste, they put their plan into action.

The rain poured down heavily as your shift ended early, the incident at the company’s branch causing the manager to let everyone go home. Heeseung was busy, so you had to make your way home alone. With no umbrella, a dead phone, and a headache that wouldn’t quit, you felt utterly defeated as you stepped out into the storm.

The streets were eerily empty, save for the occasional car passing by. You could feel a presence following you, a sense of unease growing with each step. You changed your route several times, hoping to lose whoever was behind you, but the footsteps kept pace.

Panic set in, and you started to run. The rain made it hard to see, and as darkness began to fall, you knew you had to reach the police station nearby. But just as you were about to reach safety, a figure stepped out from an alleyway, blocking your path. “What the hell?” you muttered, trying to backtrack, but it was too late.

Before you could react, someone grabbed you from behind, pulling you into the alley. “Shit,” you cursed, struggling against their grip, but a cloth was pressed over your face, the smell of chemicals overwhelming your senses. The world went dark as you fell unconscious.

Joshua quickly carried your limp body to the waiting van, with Junhui close behind and Mingyu at the wheel.

“She’s soaked,” Junhui commented, glancing at your lifeless form.

“What, do you want to take her clothes off?” Joshua asked with a teasing smirk.

“Where’d you get that idea?” Junhui shot back, glaring at Joshua before turning to look out the window.

As they arrived at the Seventeen headquarters, Joshua carried you inside and tied your wrists to the bed. Mingyu informed the others of their arrival, and soon the rest of the group joined them, staring down at you with a mixture of curiosity and cold detachment.

You stirred, your head pounding as you slowly regained consciousness. Junhui noticed you waking up and nudged Joshua. “Hyung… the girl’s waking up.”

Joshua turned to see you sitting up on the bed, confusion and fear written all over your face. “She’s not supposed to wake up for another three to five hours,” Joshua muttered, ending his call.

“Where the hell am I?” you mumbled, your voice shaky. Your eyes landed on the two men watching you, and recognition dawned on you. “Bastards,” you whispered, anger flaring up.

“What do you want from me?” you demanded, your voice stronger now.

Before they could answer, the door swung open, and eight more figures entered the room, their attention immediately fixed on you.

“I see the little bunny’s already awake,” Seungcheol said, his voice dripping with condescension as he approached you.

“What is this? Some kind of cult?” you snapped, sarcasm lacing your words. The men around you exchanged surprised looks, a few even smirking at your boldness.

“Watch your tongue, or I’ll cut it off,” Seungcheol warned, leaning in close. His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you held his gaze, refusing to back down.

“Lee Heeseung…” Seungcheol began, watching your reaction closely. The mention of Heeseung’s name made you look up in confusion and frustration. “Your brother did something very bad to our company."

Seungcheol's eyes locked onto yours, his presence radiating authority. You felt a chill run down your spine, but you weren’t about to let fear take over. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Seungcheol’s lips curled into a slight smirk. "Playing innocent won’t get you anywhere," he said, his tone cold. "You’re more valuable than you realize, and your cooperation could make things easier for both of us."

You shot back, "If you think I’m going to help you, you’re seriously mistaken."

Seungcheol didn’t respond right away. Instead, he walked around you, as if sizing you up, before leaning in close. "You may want to rethink that," he whispered. "Or do you really want to see what happens when we run out of patience?"

Before you could retort, the door opened again, and another figure entered the room. The moment he stepped in, the tension in the air shifted. He was different from the others—more composed, but his eyes held a dangerous gleam.

Jeonghan.

He took his time assessing the situation before finally speaking. "Is this the girl?" he asked, his voice smooth, almost soothing, as he directed his question to Seungcheol.

"She is," Seungcheol confirmed, stepping back to give Jeonghan a better view of you.

Jeonghan walked closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "You must be wondering why you’re here," he said calmly. "I’ll make it simple. Your brother has been a thorn in our side for too long, and now, you’re the leverage we need to ensure he stops."

You clenched your fists, trying to hide the tremble in your hands. "And what makes you think he’ll care? Heeseung doesn’t have anything to do with me."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, amused by your defiance. "Perhaps. But we’ll see how much he’s willing to risk once he knows you’re in our hands."

Mingyu, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke up. "This could all be over quickly if you just cooperate. No one has to get hurt."

You glared at him, anger boiling up inside. "You’re all insane if you think I’m going to play along with whatever sick game this is."

"Insane or not," Joshua chimed in, "you’re here, and we have the upper hand. So, I’d suggest you think carefully about your next move."

The room fell silent, the weight of their words pressing down on you. It was clear that they weren’t bluffing, and you were in way over your head. But something told you that giving in wasn’t an option either.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Seungcheol spoke again. "We’ll give you some time to think it over. But remember, your brother’s actions have consequences—and so do yours."

With that, he motioned for the others to leave the room. As they filed out, Jeonghan lingered for a moment, his eyes locking with yours one last time before he too, walked out, closing the door behind him.

You were left alone in the dimly lit room, the silence deafening. Your mind raced, trying to process everything that had just happened. One thing was clear—you needed to find a way out of this mess, and fast.

But for now, all you could do was wait and hope that Heeseung would find out what had happened before it was too late.

A man's finger hovered over the button, ready to trigger the explosive device planted at one of Seventeen's branches. But before he could make his move, the door burst open.

"Heeseung, your sist- I mean, Mei- Mei's been kidnapped by Seventeen," Riki blurted out, his voice urgent.

Heeseung's eyes widened, his focus shattered. "What?" His voice was low, but the fury was evident in his furrowed brows. Riki's silence confirmed the truth, giving Heeseung time to process the information.

"Bring the guy I assigned to watch over her," Heeseung ordered, his fists clenched in barely contained rage.

It didn't take long for Riki to return, dragging a man behind him before shoving him to the floor. "S-sir, I'm sorry... It was dark, and-"

Before the man could finish, Heeseung pulled out a sleek, metallic object from his pocket and, without hesitation, fired a shot. Blood splattered across the floor, staining Riki's shoes and pants as the lifeless body collapsed.

Heeseung sat down heavily in a chair, massaging his temples, the stress weighing on him. "Hyung, we should stop attacking and talk to Suho about this," Riki suggested, his tone cautious.

Another figure entered the room, his eyes flicking to the dead body on the floor before settling on Heeseung. "What the hell happened?" he demanded. Riki quickly filled him in.

"for a girl, Heeseung? Seriously? She's not even your real sister. We should let her go unless you're willing to abandon this multi-million mission and disappoint Suho and the others," Sunghoon said, his arms crossed, disbelief evident in his voice.

Heeseung shot him a deadly glare. "You know I can't do that."

Sunghoon and Riki exchanged uneasy glances but remained silent.

"We'll inform EXO about it," Riki said, watching as Sunghoon left the room.

"I know nothing about that. Why kidnap me?" you demanded, your voice defensive.

"Cut the crap. You're part of their schemes—it's impossible you're not." Seungcheol retorted, his patience wearing thin.

"Believe it or not, I. Know. NOTHING!" you insisted, your voice rising with frustration.

"Even if you didn't, you're still going to be held here whether you like it or not," he snapped, taking a deep breath as if to calm his mounting annoyance. He was mere inches from ending your life.

"Why?!?" you shouted, but a man quickly covered your mouth with a cloth.

"Don't speak so boldly, you little bitch. I can kill you anytime," Seungcheol hissed before turning on his heel to leave.

You glared at the man holding the cloth to your mouth, but he soon released his grip once Seungcheol was out of sight.

"This is a matter of life and death. Don't act so stubbornly." Deokyeom warned, and you just stared at him blankly.

"I simply asked a question-what's wrong with that?" you shot back.

"Your attitude and tone. You don't get to speak however you want," another man added, stepping closer.

You smirked, amused by their reactions.

"Don't act so smug." Jeonghan snarled, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

"Or what?" you challenged, your gaze locking with his.

"You're quite the brave one, aren't you? I could kill you anytime if you weren't so important, but unfortunately for me, you have to stay alive," Jeonghan smirked before releasing your chin.

"She's pretty, though," Mingyu commented from behind Jeonghan, earning a chorus of blank stares. He awkwardly chuckled and hurriedly exited the room.

"That guy, seriously. I'll cut his dick off someday," Jeonghan muttered before also leaving. Deokyeom stood there, cackling at the scene, then turned to you.

"She's got a fever," Woozi noted as he approached, pressing his palm to your forehead.

"Her clothes are drenched—of course she's sick," Deokyeom replied, and Woozi sighed, leaning back.

They turned to Joshua and Junhui. "What? I just put her here as instructed," Joshua said, feigning innocence. Junhui simply shrugged.

"Seungkwan, you change her clothes." Joshua ordered, turning to him.

"Get me the clothes, and I'll change myself. Who said I don't know how to change my own clothes?" you interrupted, making everyone turn to you. You smirked at their stunned expressions, your hands already freed from the chains.

"Deokyeom and Woozi, you were right beside her. How did you not notice she was trying to escape?" Seungkwan pointed accusingly.

"And you two were facing her. It's impossible you didn't see her attempting to escape," Deokyeom retorted defensively.

Before they could argue further, you nonchalantly removed your top, revealing your bare skin and bra, making Joshua quickly turn away.

Soonyoung and Seungkwan's jaws dropped before they too averted their eyes.

You covered yourself with a blanket from the bed, tossing your shirt to the floor. "If they're too busy arguing. I might as well do something for myself," you thought.

Woozi clicked his tongue in disappointment and left the room. "She's never going to take us seriously now," he muttered to himself, embarrassed by the situation.

"Get the girl some damn clothes," Joshua sighed, following Woozi out. Deokyeom hurried after them, leaving Soonyoung and Seungkwan behind.

"Seungkwan-ah, Joshua hyung told you to get her dressed, so you should do it," Soonyoung said before leaving the room as well, leaving you and Seungkwan alone.

The room was silent, save for your labored breathing. Your eyes were tired, cheeks flushed with a fever.

"I'll get you some clothes and tell Woozi to get you medicine," Seungkwan said before exiting, locking the door behind him.

"Wow, that girl is something else." Seungkwan heard Mingyu and Soonyoung discussing as he headed upstairs, still wondering how you managed to free yourself.

He shook his head, pushing the thought aside, and headed to the medic room where Woozi and Jeonghan were working on something.

"Did you get her clothes?" Woozi asked, glancing briefly at Seungkwan before returning to his work.

"Not yet. But can you give me medicine for her? She's been getting chills," Seungkwan replied. Jeonghan fetched some pills from a drawer, then headed out.

"I'll give her the pills. Go get her some clothes," Jeonghan instructed, and Seungkwan nodded.

As Jeonghan left, Woozi and Seungkwan exchanged glances. They knew Jeonghan was up to something— he wasn't usually this hands-on.

"You told him about what happened with the girl, right?" Seungkwan asked, and Woozi nodded.

"Yeah... Hey, go get her clothes already." Woozi replied, changing the topic.

"Why do we even need to take care of her? She's just a hostage," Seungkwan grumbled.

"Seungcheol hyung told us to keep her unharmed. Just do what you're told," Woozi said.

Seungkwan sighed, nodding, and left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were on the verge of passing out when the door creaked open, revealing a man holding a cup of water. He approached and, once standing by the bed, pulled out pills from his pocket.

"You're pretty hot," he remarked, smirking. You furrowed your brows, confused.

"I mean your temperature," he clarified with a grin before placing the pill between your lips and tipping the water cup to your mouth.

You coughed slightly after swallowing. and he released his grip on your chin, setting the cup on the table.

"You're quite a weakling, aren't you? Catching a cold right after getting drenched? Don't you think you should be stronger than that?" Jeonghan teased, his tone mocking.

"Don't you have better things to do?" you retorted, glaring at him.

"That's not nice now, is it? I just treated you, and that's how you react? The least you can do is answer my questions," Jeonghan replied, his mischievous grin never fading.

"I'm Yoon Jeonghan. We're going to meet frequently, so it's appropriate to introduce ourselves," he said, watching your blank expression. "I'll be watching over you from now on, so try not to bite, or I'll make sure to punish that ugly attitude of yours," he added, grinning down at you with unsettling interest.

You stared at Jeonghan blankly as his words hung in the air. For a moment, silence settled between you, but the smirk on Jeonghan’s lips remained as he gazed down at you.

The door creaked open, and Seungkwan entered, holding a plain black t-shirt and a pair of fitted shorts. He approached the two of you, and Jeonghan watched as Seungkwan placed the clothes on the bed, gesturing for you to get dressed.

“There’s no underwear yet, so you’ll have to make do with this for now,” Seungkwan said before quickly leaving the room, leaving you and Jeonghan alone once more. You grabbed the clothes, your brow arching as you turned to Jeonghan.

“Are you going to watch me get dressed as well?” you asked, clearly displeased by the idea. Jeonghan chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I suppose I can be a little shameless for now. Go on and hurry; I’ll show you around right after,” Jeonghan replied, placing his hands in his pockets and continuing to look down at you. You held the clothes in one hand and covered yourself with the blanket in the other.

After a brief moment of hesitation, you broke eye contact, letting the blanket slip from your body as you quickly pulled the shirt over your head. It was oversized on your frame, but it would have to do for now.

You then stood from the bed, your movements slow and deliberate, as you changed out of your wet shorts and into the dry ones. Jeonghan, now sitting on the bed, stared off into space, seemingly uninterested in your actions.

Once you were dressed, you looked at him and let out a soft sigh. “I’m sure the pills have already taken effect. You’re feeling a bit lightheaded now, aren’t you?” Jeonghan broke the silence as he stood up from the bed. “Follow me,” he instructed, heading out of the room. You followed him without a word.

As you reached the stairs, Jeonghan paused, overhearing voices from the living room.

“Jeonghan hyung must’ve watched her get dressed,” Seungkwan’s voice floated up the stairwell.

“I think he’s just getting horny,��� Dokyeom chimed in, prompting an inward scoff from Jeonghan. He descended the stairs, entering the living room where five members were gathered—Seungkwan, Dokyeom, Mingyu, Minghao, and Wonwoo, who had just arrived.

“I heard my name,” Jeonghan said with an innocent smile, his gaze sweeping over Seungkwan and Dokyeom, who suddenly found the floor very interesting. “Bastards,” Jeonghan muttered, though the smile never left his lips.

You stood behind Jeonghan, glancing around at the group. Your eyes locked onto a familiar face—one that stirred memories from the previous night. Minghao’s eyes widened slightly as recognition dawned on him, and he quickly averted his gaze.

Minghao’s mind raced. "What is she doing here?" He couldn’t believe that the girl he had made out with just two nights ago was now standing in front of him—kidnapped, no less. He wasn’t the type to kiss just anyone, but there was something about you that had drawn him in, leading to that impulsive moment. Now, the situation felt unbearably awkward.

You noticed his discomfort and smirked slightly, enjoying the tension you were causing.

Jeonghan, sensing the unease in the room, turned back to you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you out of the living room without another word.

As you walked down the hallway, you threw one last glance at Minghao, meeting his eyes with a knowing smirk before turning away.

Jeonghan led you to a small medical room where Woozi was already waiting, preparing a syringe. Jeonghan gestured for you to sit on the medical bed, and you complied, though your eyes narrowed as you watched Woozi approach with the needle.

“What’s that for?” you asked, your voice edged with suspicion.

“Just medicine. It’ll help you recover from your fever more quickly if I inject it directly,” Woozi replied calmly. Jeonghan nodded reassuringly at you, though you still looked uncertain.

Despite your reservations, you knew you didn’t have much of a choice. Refusing could make things worse, given your current position as their “hostage.”

Woozi pressed the needle into your forearm with practiced precision, applying pressure as he administered the dose. Once the injection was complete, he taped a piece of cotton over the site to prevent any bleeding.

You weren’t usually afraid of needles, but this one left you feeling strangely disoriented. Your mind clouded over, and within minutes, a heavy drowsiness settled in.

“Ay, Woozi-ah, how long will she be asleep?” Jeonghan asked, watching you closely.

“About an hour or two,” Woozi replied. Jeonghan nodded, his gaze never leaving you as you lay back on the bed, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Sleep tight,” Jeonghan whispered as you drifted off.

Darkness enveloped your senses, but faint, distorted sounds began to filter through. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you could hear muffled voices—urgent, agitated. As consciousness slowly returned, you realized you weren’t alone.

Fighting the grogginess, you cracked open your eyes, but your vision was blurred. You could make out vague shapes—figures moving around you, though the details remained hazy.

“What’s going on?” you tried to ask, but your voice came out weak and slurred.

“Shh, stay still,” a voice whispered. You recognized it as Woozi’s, though it seemed far away. “You need to rest.”

But something wasn’t right. Despite Woozi’s reassurance, you felt a prickle of unease, a nagging sense that something had changed while you were unconscious.

As your vision began to clear, you caught a glimpse of Jeonghan standing at the foot of the bed, his expression unreadable. The others—Minghao, Seungkwan, and Dokyeom—were scattered around the room, all wearing varying degrees of concern on their faces.

----------------------------------------------

In the medical room, the air was thick with tension. Woozi was focused on drawing blood from your forearm, the needle piercing your skin with practiced precision. Jeonghan, however, seemed more interested in the texture of your skin, his hands having lingered on your bare stomach far longer than necessary.

“Jeonghan, you don’t need to remove her clothes. We’re just taking blood for fuck's sake,” Woozi said, his tone exasperated as he slapped Jeonghan’s hands away from your body.

Jeonghan stepped back, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he leaned against the counter, watching Woozi work. “Her skin is so damn soft,” he commented, his gaze lingering on you.

Just then, the door creaked open, and Joshua stepped inside. Woozi and Jeonghan briefly glanced at him before returning to their tasks. Joshua approached the bed where you lay unconscious, watching as Woozi finished drawing your blood.

“Why are you here?” Jeonghan asked, not bothering to look at Joshua this time.

“I’ve got news to share. Thought you two should hear it before the others,” Joshua replied, his eyes flickering down to your still form before meeting Jeonghan’s gaze. He knew that Jeonghan would be the one to inform everyone else.

Before the conversation could continue, Joshua’s phone buzzed, signaling an incoming call. He stepped out of the room, leaving Woozi and Jeonghan to finish their work as he answered the call.

~~~You've reached the end. Wait for Chap 4 ;))

On My Command - Masterlist (Chapters)

—aeya here!: hope you enjoyeddd :DD

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please reblog/like to this chapter so i can upload the next chap asap, ty carats <3 (it might take a while for me to upload the next chapter since i'm still currently writing ch10&11 on wattpad, and well, im also busy with my studies. OH WELL. i'll try my best to keep you all updated)

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taglist: @chaoticotaku @meowwiie @kokomckenna

[addicsvt]

Him.

pairing - mafia au! hoshi x reader genre - angst angst angst angst word count - wip warnings - blood, murder, guns, killing, death synopsis - "I trusted you. You shouldn't have." a/n - SHIBALLLL 😈😈 hbd to this man 😭😭🙏🙏

"Agent y/n."

"Agent kwon."

"It was nice working with you." He says and gives you a smug smirk. Your confused, you just finished a mission and he began to act so weird. You suddenly feel a sharp pain in your chest, blood starts to pour out staining the cement crimson. You immediately fall to your knees, only to be met up from above with his sadistic smile.

"W-what" Is all that leaves your lips. You feel shocked, no, more than shocked. He.. Your mission partner of 1 year had shot you.

"I thought you would figure out my true intentions with your intellect, but I guess I'm wrong." He smirks bending to your level as you shoot him a venomous stare. He had.. betrayed you.

"All those missions meant nothing to you? All those politicians we killed together?" You spit out, hot blood rushing through you, your eyes brimming with burning tears. A knot grows in your throat, making it impossible for you to express the extent of his betrayal.

"I never thought you were the one for sappy bullshit." He remarks and you want to slap him hard. An unfiltered rage, a rage that leads one to murder. But you can't, the bleeding doesn't stop it further leads you to your demise.

"I.. I trusted you." You muttered, at this point you couldn't control your tears anymore letting them fall, hitting the hard concrete.

"Well, you shouldn't have." He laughed heartlessly before walking away. Leaving you to your inevitable death.

So.. this is how nearing death feels like? You've killed hundreds of people in your lifetime but this is how it feels to be the one getting killed. For the first time your the prey. And.. as your nearing the end of your life, you feel somewhat peaceful as if all the rage dissolved. Your back meets the cold concrete as you sigh, eyes meeting the stars. A cold gust of wind blows and you laugh weakly. You find solace in your ending moments. The moment before you meet your doomed fate.

FLASHBACK

"Why do you keep fighting?" Hoshi your annoying mission partner asked, taking a seat on the unwashed couch in the gym.

"If I don't fight I'm weak." You replied, hands balled into fists as you punched the punching bag for the 30th time.

"That's a basic reason, I thought you were going to say some cool shit." He jokes and you let out a dry laugh.

"Damn you kwon.." You curse him, voice weak and unsteady. The question lingers in your mind, "why do you keep fighting?" You hate to admit it but since he asked, you had been thinking about it. And now when your inches away from deaths cold embrace you find your answer.

Him.

[jnwonwoos]

sir is looking expensive

[sailorsoons]

Vengeance (c.hs)

Pairing: Vernon x f. reader

Summary: You always knew you were different from a young age. The only person who has ever been able to understand you is Vernon. When things take a turn for the Choi Syndicate, your long-term relationship is put to the test.

Full Fic Word Count: 21,528

Genre: Mafiaverse, Cyberpunk, Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers

Type: Smut, Heavy Angst

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Because of the nature of this fic, I have placed them under the cut. Please read them carefully before engaging with this fic.

A/N: This fic is a part of my Syndicates Collection. This will the second installment under the Syndicate Universe, but you can always read this fic on its own. I hope everyone enjoys Vernon’s story as much as they enjoyed Hoshi’s!

A/2: Thank you @daechwitatamic for being an amazing beta reader. I love you to the moon.

Main Masterlist | The Syndicates Collection | Ask | Playlist

Warnings: Because I am trying to overwarn due to subject matter, please read these carefully! General violence associated with criminal empires and criminal underground, mentions of murder and depictions of murder, depictions of punishment from parent to child, depictions of attempted murder (reader’s mother to reader via drowning, vernon’s father to vernon via choking), themes of religious trauma, themes of dealing with a parent that experiences undisclosed/ambiguous religious psychosis, mentions of dealing with a parent who is fighting addiction, kids arguing and getting into a fight (it’s honestly kind of funny, not violent at all), depiction of patricide (cool motive, still murder), heavy internal angst for reader/repressed feelings, grieving the loss of a loved one, explicit language, references to drugs and recreational alcohol use, Vernon does drive a motorcycle after drinking - it is implied he’s using a stimulant to combat that, some puppy love scenes/vernon and reader making out and being teenagers, brief interrogation scene where reader/Soonyoung are harming someone (stepping on their fingers) for information, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving) mild ass play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, implied breath play, reader experience something adjacent to subspace post-sex.

God doesn’t like strange girls. 

Well, you don’t know what makes you strange and you’re not entirely sure you believe in God. You’re only eight, and even though your mother prays to Him with a reverence reserved only for him, on her knees until they’re bleeding, her body shaking with exhaustion, you don’t think you want to believe in God. 

God is the only man your mother loves. For you, it’s your father. You can’t understand how your mother can pledge herself so wholly to someone she can’t see, someone who doesn’t seem to do much for her. 

Your father is tangible and real, and he does everything for you. He takes you to school in the mornings, he brushes your hair, he buys you the books you need for class, he protects you from her, when she is screaming that you need to purge your sin for Him, that you should prostrate for Him, that dirty nails offend Him. 

Uncooked grains of rice bite into your knees. You try to maintain your balance, not wanting to shift on them any more than you have to. Every time you wobble or try to adjust to lessen the pain, it only gets worse. 

Behind you, your mother’s voice comes out in staccato, her murmurs feverish: No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. 

The sin this time were the honey cakes the neighbor brought over for your birthday. They were perfectly golden, flaky and brown on the edges and moist on the inside, filling your mouth with sweet, honey flavor. They’d left your fingers a little sticky, the corner of your mouth a little flaky. 

You’d only eaten two of them when your mother discovered you in the living room, shrieking when she saw you indulging. Coveting. Full of gluttony. 

Licking your lips, you shift on the grains of ride. It stings, making your eyes water. Your shoulders ache, neck tight where you hold your hands behind your back. Time moves inexorably as you kneel there, the prayers for your mother’s God washing over you as you pay penance for a sin you don’t understand. 

When the front door opens, you nearly weep with relief. Salvation is here, and it isn’t in the form of God shepparading his followers into heaven. Relief comes in the form of your father storming toward where you kneel, picking you up off the ground and asking your mother what she’s doing. 

Deliverance comes when he gently wipes the grains of rice from your knees while you sit on the bathroom counter. He rubs a rag softly over the dimpled skin, wiping away a little bit of blood where the grains cut through the flesh. He applies a salve and presses a kiss to your head, apologizing. 

“Do you want to open your gifts, Angel?” You nod eagerly, forgetting all about the honey cakes that your mother threw out or the pain in your knees. 

Your mother sleeps in the bedroom, muttering feverishly. You and your father creep out to the kitchen where he lets you open the boxes in the privacy of four walls. He leans against the counter as you tear open the crinkling wrapping paper, liking the way it feels beneath your fingers, the way it crackles, like it’s telling you a secret. 

Popping the lid to the box, you reveal a beautiful gold necklace. The chain is thin but feels strong. It’s long and on the end, there’s a flattened coin charm with a figure of an angel etched into the face. You rub your thumb on it, mouth opening and grinning. 

“Do you like it?” Your dad asks. You nod your head early and he laughs. “Here, let me put it on.” 

You hand it over to him and he loops the necklace around your neck, fastening the necklace. When he pulls away, his grin is bright as the sun. “An angel for my Angel. As long as you have it on, I’ll always be with you and it will protect you.” 

Your mother has her God, but you have yours. And you’re his messenger, his follower, his angel.

-

“You are a demon!” Your mother shrieks, her voice raw and cracking. You ignore her as she leaps at you, slamming the door shut and holding it hard. She twists the knob but you hold fast, pulling your weight against the door so she can’t open it. “Demon! Demon! Scourge of the earth! You are the darkness! God will prevail against you! He will rise up in his righteousness-”

“Is this bathroom taken?” 

Looking over your shoulder, you see a boy around your age looking at you. He’s standing a few feet away down the hall, fingers twisting together nervously as he looks at you and then the rattling door. He’s pretty, with soft brown hair that hangs in his dark eyes. His face is round and his cheeks are flushed pink from hiking up the stairs. 

“Um,” you look at the door as the pounding subsides, followed by wailing. “Yeah, you can’t come in here. I’m sorry.” 

“Do you know where there’s another bathroom?” 

You shake your head. “I don’t live here. It’s Daddy’s friend's house.” 

“Your dad is friends with the Tower too?” 

You nod and he smiles. “Me too. I’m Hansol, but everyone calls me Vernon. Only my mom calls me Hansol ‘cause I love her.” 

You give him your name and pause before adding, “My dad calls me Angel.” 

Vernon grins. “I like it.” 

“Thanks.”

He glances at the door. “Do you need help? I can keep you company.”

You blush. “No, I’m okay. Thank you, Vernon.” 

Vernon toes the ground for a second, the tip of his shoe creasing the carpet. He tucks his hands in his pocket and chews on his lip before he bows a little and says, “Well I’m going to find another bathroom. It was nice to meet you, Angel.”

“You too, Vernon.” 

When he walks back down the stairs, he pauses halfway to look at you. You’re watching him with a grin, butterflies in your stomach when he grins back and waves again before descending the stairs back down to the party - where you’re supposed to be, instead of containing your mother as she cries on the other side of the door.

The party had started off fine with her smiling and having a good time. Somewhere between the first drink and her last, she felt Him again, dragging you to the bathroom to make you choke up the shirley temple you’d had. 

Gluttonous. Greedy. Indulgent. 

Unfortunately, your father had been busy somewhere with the Tower and some of the other men. He has no idea she dragged you to the bathroom for one of her episodes. But even at nine, you know how to fight her off now. She gives up just as easily as she starts, so if you can trap her long enough, usually she’ll scream herself into exhaustion. 

It’s not a good look. Even as a kid you know this. Parties are an important social setting for members of the Choi Syndicate, especially when they’re held at the Tower’s home. The Tower is the most important member of the organization, the boss, the king - that’s how your dad describes it. The Tower is owed loyalty and reverence, and being invited into his family home is very important. 

As a Sword, your father owes his loyalty to the Choi family. You don’t know what a Sword really does, other than it’s supposed to be exactly what it sounds like - a weapon. Your dad doesn’t talk much about his work, but on nights like tonight, he’s on duty circulating the party while you and your mother attend as guests. 

Well, you were supposed to attend as guests until your mother felt the call of God again. It wears on you, having to constantly be responsible for her. You’ve missed so many parties holding her hostage in a room and away from eyes, trying to protect yourself but most of all, protect your dad. If people knew… you don’t know what would happen, but you feel the need to hide her anyway. 

That’s how your dad finds you, leaning against the door and half asleep. He sighs heavily, crouching down as you blink up at him. He touches your cheek lightly and asks, “Ready to go home, Angel?” 

You nod and he grins, scooping you up and tucking you against him. Your savior comes at last. 

-

Afternoon sun bakes on the back of your head. You reach up, pressing your palm to your scalp, feeling the warmth. Sweat slicks your back and behind your kneecaps, running down your legs and making you squirm as you look around the yard, uncertain. 

The yard is filled with tables, beautiful floral centerpieces in each of them. Flowing ribbons decorate the backs of the chairs with balloons tied to each, their center filled with dancing lights that look like butterflies. Servants move about the party dressed in all white to match the birthday theme, holding silver trays with various confectionaries and fizzy drinks. 

Adults filled the yard but there’s a good dozen kids around your age. You only know some of them - specifically the birthday girl, who is the daughter of the Tower. She’s in the far corner of the yard, crouching down near a pond to look at turtles with a round-cheeked boy you don’t know. 

Worst of all is the heat. It is sweltering outside and though there are powerful fans circulating cool air around the yard, nothing is enough to reach you through the layers of fabric your mother has stuffed you in, gushing about how you looked like God’s perfect angel, dressed in white and covered to the eyeballs in fabric. 

“Hi, Angel.” A soft voice makes you turn and you can’t help but smile when you see Vernon. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw him, but you’re delighted and a little shy when you wave. He looks at your dress and frowns. “You’re very frilly. And… covered.”

That you are. The dress is beyond itchy, the white material reading all the way to the middle of your hands and the collar up to the jaw. You are covered from head to toe in the white, restricting material, the skirts of the dress falling in layers of chiffon to the floor. 

You huff and cross your arms, feeling the sweat drip down your neck and back. “My mom made me wear it. I hate it.”

“Do you want different clothes? I have a room here. I bet I have pants and stuff that could fit.” 

That makes you brighten. “Really?” He nods. “Yeah, that would be cool. I hate this dress.” 

Vernon beckons you toward the main house. There are multiple houses on the Choi property, which has more land than you’ve ever seen. Even the concept of a yard blows you away. The Choi family are the kind of rich that is confusing to you, but you like going over to their house, especially when it’s not busy. 

“Why do you have a room here?” You ask Vernon, who opens a door. The security team lets him, ignoring him as he enters the house proper. “I thought it was just the Choi family.”

“It is but sometimes…” He trails off as he leads you through a massive living area toward a foyer with stairs. “Um, it’s hard to explain.” 

“That’s okay. That’s cool, though.” 

He nods. “Sometimes.” 

“Only sometimes?” 

On the second floor, Vernon leads you down two different carpeted hallways until he stops at a door, opening it up. It’s a nice room, if not a little simple. It smells like clean linen and there’s an AetherLink in the corner with a paused game. 

Vernon walks over to the closet, opening the door. The lights turn on automatically, showing how deep the rows and rows of clothing goes. You raise your brows, trailing behind him. Your house is a decent size - and it’s impressive you live in a house, not an apartment - but this is something else. 

Grabbing stuff off the hanger, Vernon hands it over to you. He’s given you white pants and a white flowy shirt to match the rest of the party. You take it tentatively, feeling how soft the fabric is between your fingers. 

“Sometimes I fight with Seungcheol,” Vernon admits. “He’s older and thinks he’s the boss. His mom doesn’t like me much.” 

“Tell them to shut up.” 

Vernon’s mouth twitches, an almost smirk. “Yeah, maybe. The bathroom is there if you want to change.” 

The bathroom is just as grand as the rest of the house. You change quickly, folding your dress and tucking it into your arm, coming out to stand hesitantly. He’s leaning against the dresser, hands in his pocket as he stares at the ground. When you come out, he gives you a small smile and holds out his hand for the dress. You give it to him and he puts it on his dresser before turning to you, appraising your outfit.

“Hopefully you won’t sweat to death now.” 

Your smile is small. “Thanks.” 

“Do you want to see the turtles?” You nod early, pressing your sweaty palms against your pants - Vernon’s pants - to dry them. “Come on.” 

Afternoon sun beats down on the back of your neck as you lean over the turtle pond. There are so many of them, their shells have different shapes and sizes with bellies that are different colors and patterns. Your knees press into the dirt, uncaring if you stain them as Vernon does the same. 

Vernon knows all about the turtles. He picks up each one delicately, letting it grow accustomed to him before placing them in your palm. He tells you their names, their scientific species name, how old they are, when they came to the Choi Estate, and their likes and dislikes. 

It’s like a bubble has formed around you. The party continues onward, but you only have eyes for Vernon, who picks up a small turtle, cradling it in his palm. The turtle is dark green, with thin yellow striating its body and coral red spots blooming on its head. It cranes up to look at Vernon, blinking twice. 

“This is Blush,” Vernon says gently. He brings his other finger up and runs it along the back of its shell delicately. It flinches for a second before it extends its neck upward, as though it wants more. He smiles and continues, eyes fixated. “She’s the newest turtle added to the pond. She’s a red-eared slider, which is why she has this red here. Baby named her Blush.”

“I love her blush.”

Vernon smiles. “We’ve had her for a month. She’s part of the emydidae family which has about fifty species. Her scientific name is trachemys scripta elegans and she’s a type of pond turtle like the others. She’s my favorite.” 

“I can see why.” 

“Do you want to hold her?” 

Before you can answer, a shadow falls over you. Both of you look up to see the Tower’s eldest son standing over you, his arms crossed and a frown on his face. Vernon’s reaction is instantaneous as he quickly puts Blush back on her rock and wipes his hands on his pants, making them damp. 

“You missed singing happy birthday,” Choi Seungcheol snaps. His voice wavers right between adolescence and that first crack of puberty. “And of course you’re with the fucking turtles.” 

“I was showing her… sorry.”

Seungcheol’s eyes go to you. He drinks in your outfit and his frown only increases, making you feel on edge. You don’t like that look on his face, like he’s annoyed with you. He doesn’t even know you. 

Turning his attention back to Vernon he says, “Get up. You’re going to have to explain to my mother who kindly bought you those clothes why you let some girl stain them.” 

“Alright.” 

You look at Vernon, remembering what he had said early about Seungcheol sometimes talking to him like he was the boss. Irritation comes alive in you, thinking of all the times your mother has done exactly that despite her not being the boss of you either.

Turning to Seungcheol you say, “You don’t have to be mean about it.” 

“What?”

“Do your ears not work? You don’t have to be mean to him. He was being nice to me and you’re just being rude.” 

Seungcheol’s ears go red and he clenches his fists. “I don’t have to be nice to him. I’m the son of the Tower-”

“You’re not the Tower though, and even the Tower is nice. My dad says he’s nice. You’re not.”

“Angel,” Vernon mutters, a warning tone to his voice. 

“No,” you tell Vernon. “He’s not being nice to you and you didn’t do anything wrong.” Your mother’s face swims in your vision, the way your knees bleed when she makes you kneel on grains of rice, the sting of a switch against your back when she punishes you. “You’re not supposed to be mean to people who didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Something you say makes Seungcheol’s face thunderous. You watch the darkness cloud over him, his eyes darting to Vernon. The older boy sees something there that you do not, because he goes from angry to full of rage in moments as he crouches down to eye level, looking at Vernon who has ducked his head. 

“This little bastard knows what he fucking did wrong. He was born.” 

Vernon doesn’t move. His breathing is heavy and you see the way his fingers grip his pants, bone white with ferocity. He doesn’t dare look at Seungcheol, who is looking at Vernon like he wants to hit him - like he might hit him. It’s exactly how your mother looks at you for drinking a soda that your dad got you, or how she looks at you when you read a book on the couch. 

But Vernon doesn’t deserve it. Vernon who was nice to you in the hallway when other people ignored you. Vernon who gave you a change of clothes because you hated yours. Vernon who knows all of the names of the turtles in the pond because he sees them as friends.

Looking at them, all you see is you kneeled in supplication while your mother’s shadow looms over you, dominating. Final. Hateful. 

You barely remember leaping forward to tackle Choi Seungcheol. One minute you’re a shaking, angry mess and the other you’re on top of him screaming at him, hitting him with little closed fists that can’t deliver any real damage. 

Seungcheol thrashes under you, several times your size and strength as he manages to knock you off of him. He rolls over on the ground, nose crimson where you landed a single good punch on him. He yells at you but you can barely hear him through the high-pitched ringing in your ears as the rage turns into something all consuming, something you can’t stop, something that makes you want to hit and hit and hit -

Someone knocks you over. There is a high-pitched screaming before you realize that the birthday girl is on top of you, pulling your hair in a rage for attacking her brother. You push back at her, all your rage exploding as the two of you scream like feral cats. You pull anything on her that you can - hair, her dress, earrings - it doesn't matter. You yank and yank until someone is pulling the two of you apart.  

The dark-haired boy that was with Seungcheol’s sister earlier is pinning you to the ground. You thrash in his hold but he’s strong, keeping you down until suddenly he topples over as Vernon crashes into him, sending him to the side. Now Vernon is the one yelling, he and the boy rolling over as they fight for dominance like you and the girl moments before. 

A booming adult voice startles you as they shout, “Enough!” 

Vernon and the other boy scramble to their feet, covered in dirt and grass and blood. Both of them bow deeply at the waist, unmoving as a man approaches. Around him, the adults part like the river at the prow of a boat. He’s dressed in an all white suite with a single, obsidian brooch on his lapel in the shape of a mountain. 

The Tower. 

Behind him is your father, and another man you don’t recognize but looks identical to the boy Vernon had tackled, all high and round cheekbones with intense eyes glaring down at the miniature version of himself. You assume he’s the boy's dad, and by the way he’s dressed, you know he’s important to the Choi family. 

“All of you,” the Tower instructs. “In my office. Now.” 

“Yes Tower,” you all echo in unison.

Seungcheol is the first to march after his father, spine stiff. His sister is right on his heels with the other boy right behind her. He looks over his shoulder once to scowl at you, a warning that you don’t understand before he quickens his steps after her. 

Vernon sighs heavily, looking after them before he turns to you. “Come on.” 

The party goes on without you all and the birthday girl. The strings start again and the adults go back to talking, some of them giggling as they watch your group of stained and bloody kids trekking behind the Tower of the Choi Syndicate into the estate. 

Some of the ground floor is familiar to you. You pass through living spaces and darkened hallways with old fashion sconces before you reach a parlor room with two guards standing on the outside. Both of them look at the Choi siblings fondly, one of them leaning over to check Seungcheol’s nose before smiling and patting him on the cheek. 

Inside the Tower’s office smells like leather and sweet tobacco. It’s not unpleasant but it’s unfamiliar to the heavy incense and myrrh constantly choking the air of your home. Books line the walls behind a sitting area with big, leather armchairs and an old coffee table made of rich wood. 

You kind of like the room, looking around at all the strange gadgets and things unfamiliar to as the Tower clears his throat. He leans on his desk casually, crossing his arms over his chest as the five of you line up, looking at the floor underneath the heavy gaze of the Syndicate leader.

All you know about the Tower is that your dad loves him. He says he’s like family, and that out of all the men in the world who could lead the business to greatness, it’s Choi Moojin. He comes from a long line of powerful men, firm and powerful as the mountain that their name draws its meaning from. Married into the fire and wrath of the Hino family, the Choi’s have been unstoppable since he stepped into his father’s position as Tower.

And now you punched the boy who is supposed to grow into a man and replace him. 

It’s a bad look. You know it is, and you don’t know how much trouble you’re in, but you would do it again. Vernon had been so soft-spoken and gentle when showing you the turtles, pointing out every detail he liked about them, listening when you asked questions.

No one listened to you when you asked questions. He did. And Seungcheol had wanted to punish him for no reason, to make Vernon feel small, to make him-

“Explain,” the Tower commands, voice rough. He points to Seungcheol. “You first.” 

“That crazy little girl hit me!” he exclaims, pointing at you. “She tackled me like a savage-”

“You were mean to Vernon!” you explode, unable to keep silent. “He was showing me turtles and you were being a jerk and you hurt his feelings!”

Both Seungcheol and his sister start screaming at you, though the third boy and Vernon both stay silent as the grave. The Tower interrupts his children again, raising a hand to silence him. They fall into line immediately, bowing their heads as an apology. 

The Tower looks at you and you cower, dropping your eyes. “You’re like your father,” he notes, though he doesn’t sound too angry. “Which is probably a good thing. What did Seungcheol say to Hansol that made you tackle him, hmm?” 

“He called him a bastard. And something about not liking that he was born.” 

There’s a heavy pause in the air. No one breathes, all of you waiting as the Tower deliberates. Finally, it’s his daughter who murmurs, “What’s a rastard?” 

Suddenly, the Tower is laughing. You’re not sure at what but you glance at him from the corner of your eye to see he doesn’t look as imposing as he had earlier. Next to you, you feel Vernon relax. His shoulders drop, less tight and his mouth twitches a little. 

“You kids,” the Tower sighs. “All carbon copies of your parents, I’m afraid. Seungcheol, I want you to apologize to Hansol. You know that wasn’t kind, and you’re the son of the Tower. You know better than that.” 

Seungcheol nods and turns to Vernon, giving him a full ninety degree bow. “I’m sorry for insulting you and being impolite. I was… angry. It’s no excuse.” 

Vernon bows a little. “I accept.” 

“Now how,” the Tower says to his daughter and the boy next to her, “did the two of you get involved? Soonyoung?” 

The boy next to the Tower’s daughter shifts. “Baby got mad that she,” he spits the word out toward you, “punched Seungcheol. So she started fighting with her and I tried to pull them apart. Then Vernon hit me.” 

The Tower looks at Vernon, surprised. 

“I was scared he was going to hurt Angel.” 

“I see. Angel, is it?” 

“That’s what my dad likes to call me.”

The Tower smiles and nods. “Were you just protecting Hansol?”

“Yes. He’s nice and… doesn’t deserve to be punished for being nice.” 

“You have good character, Angel. Hansol needs someone to watch over him. I’m glad he has you.” 

A flush goes through you, white hot. You don’t really know what he means, but you’re pleased nonetheless. You glance at Vernon to see him fighting a smile, his fingers nervously pulling at the threads of his ripped shirt. 

“You all might not know it,” the Tower announces, “but you’re family. Your parents are my closest confidants, my secret-keepers, my best friends. You all will be like us, one day. Sometimes we fight - fighting is good for the spirit. But at the end of the day, we apologize, we make amends, and we move on. It is important to do those things, yes?” 

“Yes, Tower.” 

“Everyone make amends. You’re bound to one another for life. Start acting like it.” 

-

Vernon cradles a tablet in his lap, the diagrams and charts to his math homework hovering above the screen. He sighs, shaking his head as he uses his fingers to spin the hologram around, watching it intensely. The light turns his face blue, reflecting in his dark brown eyes. It makes his freckles stand out more, the light smattering of them dusting the tops of his cheeks and his nose. 

There’s a bruise on his jaw again. It makes you shift uncomfortably. Vernon’s dad doesn’t hit him, but his mad rampages influenced by the number of substances he’s prone to get into every now and again make him difficult to contain. As the only other man of the house, it’s Vernon’s job to do so. 

At least, that’s what Vernon says. You’re not so sure, hating each time you find a random bruise on him, another badge of honor at containing his father’s tirades now that he’s too young to hide at the Choi Estate. 

You’re supposed to be doing homework alongside Vernon, but you can’t take your eyes off of him. The windows are open to the rain, an occasional blast of wind coming in and misting the room with the smell of lotus blossom and petrichor. It’s nice, the steady drip drip drip of the rain on the roof a pleasant backtrack to your studying session, which feels like it has stretched on forever. 

In time with your thoughts, Vernon stretches. You watch the way he reaches his arms upward, sleeves constricting around his biceps which have become corded and strong under Soonyoung and Seungcheol’s careful tutelage at the gym. His shirt pulls up a little with the stretch, revealing a stretch of smooth, pale stomach. 

Flustered, you snap your eyes back to your homework. You should be thinking about history, not Vernon’s stupid stomach or his stupid arms. Both of which, at twelve years old, have become insanely distracting for you. 

Gone is the little boy who taught you about turtles, replaced by a very cute boy that you cannot stop staring at every time you do homework together. 

Thunder rolls in the distance. You look up at the ceiling as though you could see the darkening sky through it. Outside, the wind swells, growing stronger as the full strength of the storm nears. Still, you don’t close the windows. It keeps the room cool in the summer months and you like the scent and feel of the rain. 

A bang startles you at the front of the house. You whirl around in your seat, Vernon’s head snapping toward the entryway where your door is open, blasts of rain coming in. Paper goes flying around the house as your mother stands in the door, soaked and shaking. She’s staring right at you and Vernon, her eyes wide, mouth open.

A chill comes over you. It has nothing to do with the rain. You murmur for Vernon to stay exactly where he is as you peel yourself off of the couch and approach her slowly. She’s dressed in her temple clothes, the fabric sticking to her wire-thin frame. Her hair is pasted to her face and she’s panting, nearly frothing at the mouth.

She looks like a wraith coming to take your soul. 

“Mom?” you ask, tentative. Her eyes dart to Vernon. Back to you. Your stomach sinks. “It’s just Vernon - you know, the Chwe’s son? He’s just here for homework.” 

“Whore,” she hisses, her voice demonic. “Filthy rotten whore, sinning in my house?” 

“No, we’re doing-”

Her hand reaches for you. You’re fast, but she’s like an adder, striking your wrist and latching on. You yank your hand back as she storms into the house, ripping you after her. You stumble and Vernon shoots to his feet, throwing his homework to the side.

“Call my dad!” You yell at him as your mother hauls you to the hallway, her hand like an iron claw on your wrist, threatening to break it. Her anger feels like the wrath of god, but you know her god isn’t real. Only yours is, and you need him now. “Please, call him!”

“Whore!” your mother screeches, launching you through the bathroom door. She lets you go as you fall forward, slamming into the bathroom tile. It jars you, pain blooming in your shoulder particularly. You cry out, unable to stop it as she climbs over you. “Whoring in my house! In the presence of God! O forgive me Lord, for she is wretched and foul!”

“Stop it!”

“I will cleanse the sin from this house, I will rid thee of this loathsome woman, who dares to perform filth under your reverent eyes!” 

Her fingers tangle in your hair and she pulls. You scream, shoving at her. She is soaking wet with rain, dripping on you and turning the tile slippery as you thrash under her like a fish. Your scalp screams as she yanks you toward the bathtub, strands of your hair coming out with the ferocity. 

Your head smacks the side of the tub, making your world spin. For a moment, the ceiling spins on its axis, lights blurry. The pain leaves your scalp for a moment, your mother vanishing from your vision as you get the urge to vomit, trying to roll over and push yourself off the side of the bathtub and get away. 

Thunder rolls above you, shaking the foundation of the house. Your hands slide on the tile as you push yourself up, only to be knocked back down again as she shoulders you into the bathtub. A pitiful noise leaves your mouth as you go down hard on your shoulder. You feel the crack, the pain worse than anything you’ve ever experienced before. 

Crying, you clutch your shoulder, trying to roll off of it, to do anything. Touching the arm hurts, but trying to move is worse. It is a radiating pain, jarring, searing-

Water floods your mouth. You gasp, choking as you lift your head to see that the faucet is running. With renewed panic, you thrash, nearly blacking out with the pain that explodes from the injured arm. Your mother, who doesn’t seem to notice the break, grabs you by the back of your head and shoves you forward. 

The pain incapacitates you. Blots out everything else, your inability to fight back vanishing and replaced with only the knowledge that the pain exists. It increases tenfold. Fifty fold. A hundred fold. 

Thunder pounds against the walls of the bathroom. It shakes the door in the frame, it splinters. You can barely register the thunder over the rush of the water filling your ears, but it’s there, accompanied by the rush of water in your mouth. 

Panic slams back into you. You can’t breathe, can’t see. You flail, sitting upward for a moment to suck in a sharp, painful breath. 

“Have mercy on me, O God,” your mother gasps, her hands on your face, nails biting into your skin. “According to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. I will remove evil from thy house, and embrace your grace and love.” 

Water fills the tub. She pushes you back under and you scream in terror, forgetting to take a breath before your world is a dull roar. You thrash, kicking at her, slapping at her, tearing your nails into her wrists. It’s like she can’t feel pain, can’t be convinced to let go.

Your lungs ache, your nose filled with water. Her grip loosens for a second and you wretch yourself upward, choking and coughing, mucus and bile burning the back of your throat as you hack. The water is near the edge of the tub, sloshing as you try to crawl away from her. 

“Stop!” You scream as she grabs you by the hair again. “Stop! Mommy, stop! Please!” 

Water fills your mouth again. You gag on it, feeling your throat constrict as it fights between needing to wretch and swallow down water. Before your body can figure out which, you’re being hauled out of the water, the world spinning. 

You fall over the side of the bathtub onto the floor, a pile of soaking, trembling limbs. Water spills over the sides of the tub like a waterfall as you choke up the water you’ve already swallowed, vomiting it out on the tile. 

Someone grabs you and you scream in terror, not wanting to go back into the tub. 

“It’s me!” Vernon’s voice wavers, higher-pitched than you’re used to. You get your bearings, lifting your head to see him. He’s next to you, soaked and panicked as he holds his hands out, not touching you. “It’s me.” 

Turning away from him, you look where your mother is lying on the tiles. She’s still breathing, but she’s got a knot forming on her forehead. Behind her, the door to the bathroom is in splinters, entirely kicked through and torn apart - Vernon, you realize. It wasn’t thunder, it had been Vernon kicking through the door. 

A knot forms in your throat as you swivel back to him. He’s on his knees, water pooling around him as the bathroom floods. His hair is soaked, long strands hanging in his eyes, which are wide with terror. He’s panting and there’s a little bit of blood on his hands, splinters visible. 

Vernon, who taught you about turtles and all of their names. Vernon, who always quietly sits next to you at parties so you don’t feel alone. Vernon, who had tackled Soonyoung because he thought you were in danger that time at Baby’s birthday party. Vernon, who liked to sit on your couch with the windows open when it rained because he enjoyed the smell. 

Vernon, who pulled you from your mother’s wrath. Who saved you. Not your dad, but Vernon, this time. A new god. A fierce one. 

When you start to cry, Vernon doesn’t hesitate. He reaches for you, pulling you into him. You yelp when he touches your shoulder and his touch turns careful. He slides himself against the wall, pulling you between his legs to press your good shoulder against him. His chest is warm, the steady beat of his heart underneath your cheek as you press yourself into him, heaving. 

Vernon’s arms come around you, careful not to touch your shoulder. You don’t care if he does. No pain can blot this out, no pain can erase what he’s done for you. He cradles you to him like you mean everything to him, hands pressed to you and mouth against your forehead, murmuring it’s okay. I’ve got you. 

Your fingers twist in his shirt as you try to catch your breath, shaking violently. He doesn’t mind, just letting you use him however you need. A constant force, a guardian who requires no penance, no devotion, no alms in return for his protection. 

“I’ve got you,” Vernon promises, kissing your temple. He squeezes you tighter. “I’m not letting you go. I’ll never let you go.”

It’s how your father finds you when he skids into the doorway, wrapped in Vernon’s arms and trembling as the bathroom floods around you, mother muttering under her breath about the demon in her home. 

His eyes look from your mother to you, and you see it. The realization of what’s happened. Your god turns his vengeful eye on your mother, and you know you will never know her terror again. 

-

Blossom petals fall from the ceiling as your father dips Yoon Minji by the waist to kiss her. Everyone in the pews shoots to their feet, clapping happily as he smiles into the kiss. They don’t overdo it, stepping away to bow a bit to their guests, laughing and happy. You clap from where you stand on the side, one of the few bridesmaids she’s picked for the wedding. 

You think you like Yoon Minji. You don’t know much about her beyond knowing that she is from one of the wealthiest families in the Choi Syndicate, and she’s the current Wisdom to Choi Moojin, which makes her the second most powerful person in the room directly after the Tower. 

Across from you, her son Jeonghan claps politely, placed among the groomsmen. He’s a little bit older than you in his late teens, a spitting image of his mother with her coquettish smirk and knowing eyes. Jeonghan you do like, though you’re not sure you trust. 

Trust is a fickle thing that only two people in the room you’re standing in have earned. One of them is now walking with his new wife back down the aisle from the altar where they said their vows, and the other is sitting stiffly between his mother and father, his dark eyes only on you. 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. You feel warmth spread up your neck to your cheeks as you begin the processional back up the aisle, walking to meet Jeonghan who gives you a raised brow. 

“You’re blushing,” he teases, looping your arm with his as he escorts you. “Is it because a certain Chwe is looking this way?”

You roll your eyes at the rhyme. “You just wanted to make a rhyme.”

“I’m also right.”

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

He grins, turning to you, pleased at your rhyming. “I like having you for a sister. I’ll see you later, go see your mister.” 

“Ugh, goodbye, Jeonghan.”

Your new step-brother lets go. He grins at you, always looking like the cat that ate the canary. You shake him off, knowing that lying to him about Vernon is pointless. The two of you are usually glued to one another’s side, near inseparable to the point that you asked if you could be a guest instead of a member of the wedding party. 

That had earned a hard no from your father, despite how much he likes Vernon. 

Now, though, you’re free to do what you want for cocktail hour. Naturally, this means stealing a bottle of wine from behind the bar when the bartenders aren’t looking and slipping out one of the side entrances outside. 

Balmy air kisses your skin. The sun has long since faded and crickets chirp as you descend the steps toward the massive gardens on the property. The reception will be held in the east garden, so naturally you head to the west garden, slipping your phone out to message Vernon and tell him where to find you. 

A waxing moon hangs in the sky. The entire world looks blue under its light, dark enough to slip away unnoticed but bright enough not to get lost on the cobblestone path, following the tinkling sound of a fountain.

The small courtyard has a massive fountain at its center. The statue centerpiece shows a series of mermaids resting upon rocks, water sprouting around them and showering them with mist. You walk up to the fountain's edge, looking at the glittering coins at the bottom that make the water smell coppery. 

Mist cools your skin from the fountain. You study the mermaids while you wait for Vernon, eyeing the details of each scale, each strand of hair. The artist had a good hand, the careful lines and curves of the stone life-like. 

Footsteps make you turn around. Vernon enters the yard, his hands tucked in the pocket of his suit pants. He looks at ease, walking in that same loping gait he always does. Now that he’s fourteen, he’s a lot taller than he used to be. Still wire thin, but not gangly like he was as a youth.

Tonight, his hair is gelled back. You feel your heart start to race again as he grins when he sees you, a smile only reserved for you. He looks painfully handsome, his suit fitting him just right and a cluster of white flowers that you’ve never seen before pinned to his jacket. 

“Where’d you get that?” He gestures to the bottle of wine as he stands next to you, kicking a foot up on the fountain's edge to lean his elbow on his knee.

“Stole it from behind the bar.”

He shakes his head, laughing and holding his hand out. You give it to him and he turns the label upward, reading it in the moonlight. “This is good shit. They should keep better track of their wine.”

“I’m good at not being seen.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” Vernon peels the foil off the wine bottle, pausing to look you up and down. “I always see you, though.”

As soon as he says it, he drops his eyes. You stare at him, your heartbeat racing as he pulls out a knife to get the cork out the bottle. You don’t ask why he has a knife - you have one too. A beautiful little butterfly knife with a mother of pearl handle and an edge sharp enough to cut a single strand of hair. It had been a gift from Jeonghan, a little welcome to the family. 

Vernon is always like this. He says things that make you stare at him, trying to unravel their meaning. You’re both fourteen and you know what flirting is, but you can’t figure out if that’s what he’s doing or not. Sometimes Vernon just says things and doesn’t mean anything secondary. He’s simple like that, very to the point and forward. Other times, you swear there is an inflection there, but you can’t tell if it’s because there is or you want there to be. 

This is one of those times. Of course Vernon always sees you - he knows you better than anyone else in the world. From the moment he pulled you out of that tub and cradled you to his chest, you knew that you were his. It doesn’t matter if he knows or not. You’re entirely devoted to him - all because he doesn’t ask for it. Doesn’t expect it. 

He doesn’t expect anything from anyone. It’s part of why you like him so much. He believes in keeping to himself and keeping quiet, carefully observing the world around him. Jeonghan thinks it makes Vernon dangerous - the good kind, he had emphasized. The useful kind. 

You think it makes him perfect. 

Vernon manages to get the cork out the wine bottle, his smile electric as he turns to you, presenting the bottle. You clap happily, taking it from him and bringing it up to your lips to take a hearty swig. 

Immediately you cough, making a face as the wine hits your mouth. It’s fruity but it’s dry and tangy, something about it making you shake your head. After a difficult swallow, you take a big breath of air and give it back to him, still coughing. 

“Wine is terrible.” 

He takes it and tilts it towards you, his own cheers. When he takes a sip, he makes a face but his reaction is far less vile than yours. Smacking his lips together he says, “Yeah, not great.” 

Together, you sit on the fountain, sticking your feet in the water. Vernon has rolled up his pants, to the knee, swishing his feet back and forth as you take another sip from the bottle. Your dress is pooled around your thighs, lifting lightly in the breeze. 

Even though the wine is disgusting, you drink it anyway. Let it make you dizzy, turning the world softer. It feels good, this little buzz you have. You’ve never been drunk before but it makes you giggle, leaning your head back and closing your eyes as Vernon takes another swig. 

When you open your eyes and look at him, you giggle. 

“What?” he asks, shy. He puts the bottle down. 

“Your mouth and teeth are sooo red.” 

“Yours too.” He laughs, leaning toward you a little. You can’t tell if it’s the drink or his proximity that makes you dizzy. His breath fans your face - you hadn’t realized how close he was. “Your lips are red like berries.” 

“Really?” 

“Mhmm.” His eyes are dark, something flickering in them as they drop to your mouth. “Wonder if they taste like berries too.”

Your breath catches, heart hammering. “Why don’t you find out?” 

Vernon doesn’t even hesitate. He presses his lips to yours, a little forceful and awkward. You don’t care, shocked that he’s kissing you. You don’t know what to do, but you close your eyes, letting Vernon slot his mouth against yours.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you and the press of your mouths, the fountain spraying you with water as the wind changes direction. Then, Vernon tentatively parts your lips, his tongue darting out to swipe across your bottom lip and you soar.

He starts to pull back but you make a sound, shifting forward to really kiss him. You know nothing about kissing, but you remember Lin telling you and the other girls about it. Baby had told you a little bit about what it was like to kiss Soonyoung, so you try to replicate her feedback, gently licking Vernon’s mouth open.

Vernon makes a pitiful sound, leaning into you. Your noses bump and you grow eager, bringing a hand up to his neck, holding him there. His hands cradle your face, his mouth eager and hungry. It’s messy and clumsy and you’re not sure either one of you really knows what you’re doing, but it’s Vernon and it’s everything.

When you break away, panting, Vernon presses his forehead against yours, nose nudging you. “Tastes better than berries.”

“What’s it taste like?” 

His grin is goofy and he can barely get the joke out when he says, “My girlfriend?” 

It’s more like a question but you already have an answer, nodding and whispering, “Your girlfriend.” 

-

“Ah fuck,” Vernon mutters as you walk toward him, his head thudding against the back of the couch. You don’t hear his voice but you can see the look on his face and the shape of the words on his mouth as you storm over, fingers flexing. “I warned you,” you hear Vernon mutter to the girl he’s been pushing off of him the last ten minutes. 

Vernon watches, eyes flashing when you grab the girl by the back of the neck and yank backward. The girl’s head snaps up, her eyes wide when she realizes who is grabbing her. Immediately she drops her hands from Vernon’s arms and tries to lean away from you, but you’ve got her in a death grip, nails digging into her skin. 

She lets out a sound as you stare down on her, feeling your anger throb in the side of your neck alongside your pulse. The buzz of the alcohol burning through you doesn’t help either, turning your wrath sharp like a knife. Somewhere, you hear Jeonghan collecting bets behind you. 

“He told you no,” you growl. You’d watched Vernon several times physically try to get up from the couch and push the girl off but she’d clung to him, ignoring his protests. “And no is a full sentence.” 

“I didn’t know he was yours.” 

Your nails dig in further and her hands fly up to your wrists, trying to break free as she cries. “The point is he told you no. Now apologize.” 

Vernon watches with dull amusement, brows raised as they flicker between you and your victim. He always seems interested in what your nexk move is going to be, happy to go along with whatever your mood brings out, even if it’s violence. 

“I’m sorry,” the girl says to you and you shove her forward. Her head snaps down, teeth clacking painfully. “Not to me, idiot. To him. Apologize to him for violating his personal space and not knowing what consent is.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

Hauling her off the couch is a task. She’s much taller than you, but you’re strong. Seungcheol has started letting you work out with them, and though he still holds a grudge from that time you punched him in the face as kids, he’d rather you be good at fighting than bad at it. 

Instead of fighting, you let the girl go. She hits the floor like a ragdoll, scrambling away from you. Your fingers are sticky with her blood, the underneath of your nails black with it. She stumbles to her feet, hand going to the back of her neck where she must feel the broken skin. 

“Crazy bitch,” she gasps, looking at you. 

You take a single step and she shrieks in fear, running. You want to chase her, but Vernon’s hand is around your wrist and he’s laughing, tugging you toward him on the couch. Collapsing into his lap, you pout at him, stomach fluttering at the way he looks at you - like you’re everything, the only thing. 

It doesn’t matter that you’re only fifteen. You know that you’re in love with Vernon and that he’s in love with you. No amount of threats by your father has swayed Vernon and no amount of never trust a man from your stepmother has convinced you that you cannot trust Vernon implicitly. 

“Very hot of you,” Vernon assures, his hands sliding from your waist to your ass. He grips you through your jeans, uncaring that you’re in the middle of some gritty ass party in the Lower District. If Baby knew you were here, she’d be so mad you didn’t bring her along. “Kiss me.” 

You do. He tastes like gin and lemons, but he smells like fresh rain, all petrichor and vetiver. His mouth is warm and wet against yours, a little clumsy because he’s been drinking, but far more skilled than that awkward kiss you shared the night your father married Minji. 

Vernon groans under you and you laugh, cradling his face with your hands as you separate from him, nipping his lower lip a little. “Take me home,” you whisper, thighs squeezing around his. “Please?” 

He taps your ass. “Let’s fucking go.”

Outside the world is awash in rain. It’s always raining in the city, turning the streets slick. It smells awful in the Lower District, the water flooding the streets and clogging the drain until it smells like wet decay and piss. A group of men shuffle too close for comfort, making Vernon tug you toward him. His eyes are dark beacons as he watches them pass by, either uninterested in the two of you or deciding you’re not easy targets. 

Standing on your tiptoes, you press a messy kiss to Vernon’s jaw. He smirks but his eyes never leave the men until they’re around the corner. Vernon might be quiet and unassuming most of the time, but he’s the son of a Sword, one of the heavies for the Choi Syndicate. Vernon is far more lethal than he looks, and he’s learned how to use it. 

Turning to catch your mouth, Vernon presses a messy kiss to your lips. “Come on,” he mumbles, tugging you toward the motorcycle parked near the front of the apartment complex. “Let’s go.” 

Vernon slides onto the bike, unhooking a helmet and passes it to you. You swing a leg over, getting on the back and pulling the helmet on. Immediately, the face shield swims with color as it turns on, a mini heads up display projected across the glass. 

Underneath you, the bike roars to life. Red lights glow around the rim of the wheels, casting murky light on the sidewalk as Vernon walks the bike backward. You scoot closer to his back, wrapping your arms around the middle to give him a squeeze. One of his hands drops from the handlebars and pats your leg. 

“Good?” His voice comes through the comms in the helmet perfectly clear. 

“Good. You good?”

“Mhmm.” You hear something click against his teeth. “I’ve got a stim pop.” 

The boys love stim pops. Most of them use them when they’re trying to fight a high or being drunk, the mix of sweet candy and methylphenidate serving as a kickstart to the nervous system. All of the workers under the Choi banner use them, especially when pulling late night shifts or just trying to stay awake. Your father even chews them sometimes, popping one in his mouth when he comes home.

You hate the taste, personally. The candies aren’t sweet enough and you can taste the bitter edge of the stimulant as it melts in your mouth. Vernon, however, loves them. He’s always careful not to overuse them, afraid of becoming too reliant on them. With his father’s history, you don’t blame him. 

Resting the side of your helmet on Vernon’s back, you watch as the world turns into a blur of color. You love the feeling of being on a motorcycle, the world around you becoming nothing but wind and blurring shapes. This late at night, Vernon has to maneuver around people as he drives through the entertainment districts, but once he hits the highway you’re gone. 

Wind rips at your clothes. You can see the speed in the corner of your heads up display as Vernon tops out the bike, shooting across the bridge like a bullet. He’s going way above the speed limit but you don’t care, hugging him closer as he navigates through the night.

Even if city police did want to go after him for speeding, they’d never catch him. Seungkwan had refitted the bike with tons of illegal parts and machinery, making it travel at speeds far above regulations. And even if Vernon did get pulled over, he just needed to tell them who he was - the Choi’s were deep in the infrastructure of law enforcement, near impossible to weed out. 

Nights like this with Vernon feel invincible. As children to members of status in the Choi Syndicate, you’re untouchable. Gods. 

Well, perhaps Vernon is. You don’t feel so much as a god as you do a shadowy angel at his side, ready to deliver vengeance tenfold to whoever stands in his way. It’s been like that since the day he pulled you out of the bathtub - before, even, when you’d punched Seungcheol for him. 

Despite being high-ranking in the Choi Syndicate, Vernon’s family doesn’t live in the luxurious accommodations as some of the other upper echelon. He had lived in an actual home like you when you were kids, but last year had moved to a smaller apartment in the Upper District - still better than most of the population of the city, but strange for someone so close to Choi Moojin. 

Sleep is a stranger to the city. Lights burn in the windows of the skyscraper as Vernon pulls into the garage lift. He plants his feet on the ground, a hand dropping to your thigh to squeeze and hold you close as the lift shoots upward. It jolts you a bit and you hug him closer.

“Gonna break my ribs,” he teases. 

“Good. I’m the only one allowed.”

“Anything you want.” 

It makes you smile. You’d never actually hurt him - you’d rather die than inflict any sort of damage on him. Jeonghan has tried to tell you over and over again that you should have a contingency with Vernon, that if he ever breaks your heart-

You shake your head at the thought. Jeonghan trusts no one and neither do you - but Vernon isn’t no one. 

The lights are off in Vernon’s apartment. His mother is nowhere to be found, which isn’t uncommon, and his father blessedly isn’t home. You don’t think Vernon would bring you back if Chwe Jiyeong was home. You don’t have to ask why and Vernon doesn’t have to explain. Like most things between the two of you, you just know. 

Vernon pulls you toward him as he walks backward toward his room. You giggle, your feet tangling and tripping as you go. You chase his lips with yours, pleased when he lets you drown him in an all consuming kiss, your hands pulling him closer by the jacket. 

Tumbling into his room, you knock something over and he laughs. Pressing your hands against his chest, you send him backward onto his bed. His room is dark, save for the light peeking through the tinted windows. This high up in the sky, the clouds blot out the moon. 

Crawling into his lap, you grin down at Vernon. His hands go to your hips, greedy fingers exploring. His eyes shine in the darkness of the room, hungry for you - only you. You are the only thing in the world Vernon ever looks at with a sliver of desire. 

Leaning down, you plant your hands on either side of his head, dropping your mouth to kiss him again when something crashing in the living room startles you both. Vernon is fast - faster than you even knew he could move. He has you up and off of him in a second, planting you on the bed as he heads for his bedroom door. 

You begin to stand but Vernon holds out a hand, stopping you. “Don’t move,” he whispers. “Stay in here, and do not come out of this room. It’s probably my dad.” 

Nodding, you sit back on the bed. You swallow thickly, watching as Vernon places his hand on the knob and stills, turning his head to listen. At first, there’s just eerie silence. Your heart pounds hard enough that you swear he can hear it thundering in your ribcage. 

Someone cusses out in the living room. Vernon dips his head, sighing heavily as he white-knuckles the door handle. You watch the change come over him, a stone dropped in a still pond rippling a calm surface. He’s tense now, the desire for you moments ago stomped out by the sound of his father knocking over something else in the house, followed by the yell of his mother’s name.

Vernon turns back to you, eyes hard. “Stay here. I’ll get him back to his room and I’ll take you home.”

You nod. You know better than to be disappointed. His dad has ruined your night, but getting to ravage Vernon isn’t as important as this. 

Carefully, Vernon opens the door. A shaft of light falls across his face, showing a moment of fear. Then he’s through the door and it’s closed, leaving you alone as your fingers twist nervously in his sheets. 

Straining your hearing, you listen as Vernon’s steps fade down the hall. His soft voice is barely audible through the closed bedroom door. Silence follows for a moment, then you hear his dad, voice raised. The urge to stand up and go to the door is overwhelming but you stay put, knowing it’ll only make things worse.

Jiyeong hates your stepmother, and by extension, you. 

Again, Jihyeong’s voice raises in the living room. You cannot make out what he’s saying, but it's obvious he’s angry. He’s always angry, though. Angry he can’t kick his addiction to frostbyte and resin, angry the Tower didn’t save his home from being taken by the bank, angry he’s in this apartment, angry that Vernon is here and his mother isn’t, angry at the world. 

Growing up, you’d only seen the angry episodes from Vernon’s father once or twice. Seungcheol’s sister had told you about them, though. How when she was little, she’d be woken up to Vernon being brought upstairs to stay the night while Jiyeong was raving mad downstairs, how the Tower and his Sentinel - Soonyoung’s father - would placate him until morning.

No one placates him anymore. Soonyoung’s father is dead and Vernon is fifteen, old enough to deal with his old man by Syndicate standards. 

A crash of sound makes you shoot to your feet. You wring your hands together, staring at the door intensely, wishing you could manifest Vernon to walk back through. Another loud crash followed by a loud shout makes you flinch, your hand flying to the angel charm on your necklace. 

For a few beats, there’s only silence. 

The silence scares you more than the shouting. Before you know what you’re doing, you’re opening the door and rushing down the hall. 

Light spills into the living room from the kitchen. You smell something burning and catch snatches of foils near the stove top where there’s still an open flame. For a second, you think the apartment is empty, but you hear a grunt and something smack against the cabinets. 

Rounding the counter top, you scream, reaching for Jiyeong where he sits on top of Vernon, whose feet are sliding against the title as he kicks, hands wrapped around his father’s wrists. Jiyeong’s hands are wrapped around Vernon’s throat, thumbs pressing dangerously into his windpipe.

You don’t even think. You lunge forward, grabbing at Jiyeong to pull him off of his son. He thrashes to the side, throwing you into the counter. Pain explodes in your hip but you don’t care, diving back at Jiyeong to pull him off of Vernon. You succeed in loosening his grip and Vernon gasps for air, his face red and strained as he coughs, spittle flying.

The moment of respite is costly - his dad shoves you back hard, sending you stumbling and falling on your ass. It hurts when you land, a pile of limbs and panic and disorientation. It doesn’t matter. You scramble to your feet again, the world tilting as your panic consumes you. 

Jumping on Vernon’s father, you try to pull him off. He’s insanely strong, arms corded and honed to killing perfection, the perfect Sword of a powerful Syndicate. Vernon doesn’t try to fight back - he just pries at his father’s hands, the death grip so strong that he knows it’s his best chance at survival. 

Your nails rend down Jiyeong’s face, you pull at his hair, at his head. It doesn’t matter. He is feral and intent on a single thing, and that’s choking the life out of the person you love most in the world - even more than you love your father, your god, your savior. 

A set of knives catches your attention on the counter. Without second guessing, you grab one, knocking the block over with your haste. Your hand shakes on the handle and you scream when you bring it down on the juncture between Jiyeong’s neck and shoulder. 

He doesn’t stop choking Vernon. Filled with rage and terror, you shriek, gripping the handle as blood spills onto your hand. You rip the blade out and drive it down again and again, ignoring the way blood spurts, covering your face and arm. 

Jiyeong finally lets go of Vernon, who starts coughing as he sucks down air. He twists under his father, kicking away to roll over on his stomach and crawl away. He gets a few feet away, where he stops to vomit. 

You stop screaming. Vernon chokes, spit flying from his mouth as he hacks, trying to get his windpipe to work again. Jiyeong remains on his knees for a second and you realize he’s also choking. His hands are covering the stab wound in his neck, red spelling between his fingers and running down his arms. 

Then, he falls forward. 

Shaking, you remain standing where you are, hand trembling violently, knife in your hand. It is covered in red now, nearly indistinguishable. Heaving, Vernon manages to sit on the floor, sliding further away from his father to press himself against the fridge. His throat is already red and bruising. 

Vernon’s eyes go from his father, motionless on the floor and in a pool of blood to you. Then back to his father. Then you again, where his gaze stays. You don’t know what to do. All you know is that you’d thought he was going to die and that you had to do something about it. You didn’t- 

“I didn’t mean-”

Vernon shakes his head and holds out his hand to you. He says nothing - can’t say anything with his throat - but his hand is outstretched toward you and violently shaking. He’s asking - begging - you to come to him. 

You drop the knife and it clatters, loud in the eerily silent apartment. You rush to him, stepping over the body, foot sliding in blood. You careen forward, collapsing to your knees. Pain shoots up your legs but you don’t care, crawling to Vernon, hands slippery against the tile until you’re there and you’re holding his hand and he’s pulling you to his chest. 

Vernon is quivering, his entire body vibrating as you press against him. His arms squeeze you tight and he turns both of you away from the mess at the mouth of the kitchen, shielding you from it. 

Your hands are on his face, smearing blood and red finger prints across his perfect skin as you inspect him. He shakes his head, as though to say he’s fine. But he’s not fine. His throat is bruised and you don’t know how much damage his dad did and he just watched you plunge a knife into his father over and over again. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

Vernon kisses you. It’s brief and quick, but it stops you from spiralling. He shakes his head again, squeezing you harder. Instead of fighting him, you melt into him. Bury your face in his neck. Cry. Cry like you haven’t since your mother tried to purge this world of your existence. Cry because for a moment, you thought he was gone. 

Minutes pass. Maybe hours. When Vernon stops shaking, you finally pull yourself from his neck turning to look at the body. The blood has stopped pooling around it. It’s dark - darker than you remember. Perhaps because it’s drying. Going cold. 

Wiping your nose, you look at Vernon. He’s expressionless, eyes wide. “I have to call Minji,” you rasp. “She’ll know what to do.” You nod to yourself, pressing the back of your bloodied hand to your mouth. “Yeah, she’ll know what to do.” 

-

Turns out that Yoon Minji does always know what to do. You sit at her boudoir, back facing the mirror. You don’t feel like facing the mirror right now. You know that your dark under eyes and hollowed out expression will just stare back at you. 

Minji comes in with a steaming cup of tea, closing the door gently behind her. She is more poised and regal than you’ll ever be, but you like that about her. She reminds you of the knife that Jeonghan gave you when you became step-siblings: a beautiful, mother of pearl handle with a blade so sharp you could cut paper. 

You see that in your stepmother as she hands you the mug of tea. You cup it carefully in your hands, palms leeching the warmth from the cup. It smells like honey and chamomile, perhaps with a hint of yarrow. She’d recently started teaching you the names of herbs and how to smell them out, as well as their properties. 

Vernon would like her lessons, you think. 

Vernon. 

As always, he consumes your thoughts. He is, afterall, the reason why you’re barely able to sleep. Though you’re able to spend all day with him while he recovers from a crushed windpipe and a broken collarbone, you have to let him rest at night, which means him being alone.

You hate it. You know he’s in the careful care of the Choi family’s personal doctor, and Dr. Ymir is wonderful. But you hate being separated from him, and despite screaming and yowling like a feral cat, the Tower had been adamant that you were separated for his recovery.

Vernon hated it too. Nearly set himself back by damaging his throat to scream that he wanted you with him. The Tower had finally compromised and agreed that you could spend all day there if you left for a minimum of eight hours at night to sleep. 

Minji sits on the edge of her bed. She smoothes her silk shirt down and crosses one knee over the other. She’s dressed professionally in a beautiful, pearl colored shirt tucked into black cigarette pants, with pearls in her ears and on her fingers, hair tucked neatly in a bun behind her head. 

She is worlds more beautiful than your own mother, but perhaps your opinion of your birth mother is a little skewed. 

“Drink,” Minji urges, gesturing to the cup. “I’ll help you sleep. If you still can’t sleep, send for me. I’ll get you something stronger.”

Nodding, you sip the tea. Warmth unfolds in your mouth and you do feel yourself relax a little. Your hackles have been raised since leaving Vernon an hour ago, and already you’re looking at the clock to see how long until you can go back.

She notices and laughs. Not meanly, but tiredly, followed by a sigh. “What are we going to do with the two of you?” 

“Nothing,” you mutter into a cup. “We were defending ourselves.”

She waves a hand. “Not about that. Chwe Jiyeong is a motherfucker. The fact that he would dare hurt that child is-” She cuts herself off with an angry sound. “No one will miss him.”

“The Tower will.”

Her mouth thins. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” 

Silence stretches between the two of you. You sip your tea, watching her while she watches you. Her eyes don’t miss a thing. As the Wisdom of the Choi Syndicate, it’s her job to be the second-in-command. The know-it-all. The intelligence. 

Minji must be grand indeed. Most women in the Syndicate didn’t have roles like that. The Kim and Yong Syndicates only had men in executive roles. It was mostly the same under the Choi banner, but Minji was different. The Fox, some called her. 

“Do you know why Chwe Jiyeong tried to murder his son, Angel?” Her question catches you off guard. You hesitate, sipping your tea as you think about how to answer her. She notices, her mouth twitching. “Ah. You do.” 

Of course she can see the deliberation in your eyes. Instead of arguing, you ask, “Does it matter that I know?” 

“Not really. I’m more interested in how you know. Did the boy tell you?” 

“No.”

“Pray tell, then.”

“When we were kids, we all got into a fight.” 

She smiles. “I recall. You were very disruptive.”

“It started because Seungcheol was being mean to Vernon. I told him that he shouldn’t be mean because Vernon did nothing wrong, but he called Vernon a bastard and said Vernon had done wrong by being born.”

“I see.”

“Wouldn’t have meant much to me as a kid, but Vernon had mentioned that Seungcheol and Seungcheol’s mom specifically didn’t like him much. As we got older, I wondered why out of all the kids that have family members who work for the Tower, why Vernon was given a space at the Choi Estate.”

Her eyes are glittering now, smile spreading. “And?” 

“Soonyoung was given a room because his parents are dead.” You sip your tea. “His dad was the Tower’s closest friend. Vernon’s dad wasn’t though. He had a drug problem and was constantly disappointing the Tower.”

“So why give Vernon a place to stay, then?”

“Because he’s not Jiyeong’s son. He’s the Tower’s.”

When Minji smiles, you see Jeonghan in her. Jeonghan looks so much like his mother that sometimes it makes you do a double take. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in the Yoon family, and it doesn’t just stop at looks. Jeonghan is the perfect clone of his mother in face, but particularly in mind. 

Which is why you wonder what her motive is when she says, “You’re very bright, you know.” 

It wasn’t a question but you answer anyway. “Yes.”

“Most fifteen year olds would have been very afraid to kill someone.”

“I was afraid. Just not more afraid of him than I was Vernon was going to die.”

“Good.” She stands, unfolding like a lotus flower blooming. “I’d like to put that mind of yours to use, Angel. Clever girls like you are important. Valuable. Mean something.” She pauses and smiles. “I think Vernon might be good for the job, too.” 

-

Nerves twist your stomach into knots. You wind your fingers in your shirt, following Vernon out of the main house and onto the grounds of the Choi Estate. The bruising on his throat is long gone, but Vernon’s voice has only just started returning. 

Not that you’ve heard it, at all. His vocal recovery is reserved strictly for the hours spent with his medical team, going through exercises as he slowly makes progress toward speaking fully again. Thankfully he’s expected to make a full recovery. You remind yourself to ask Minji to give Dr. Ymir a hefty bonus for helping Vernon, especially with how fast his return to health has been. 

You are dying to hear his voice. Weeks spent writing notes and curating ways to communicate has lost its novelty, and now you just want to hear him again. You miss his voice more than you’ve missed anything else, and you’re starting to worry that you might forget the sound of it. The pitch. The raspiness. 

No.

His voice haunts you in your dreams, brushing along your skin like velvet, coaxing you into a restful sleep. Other times, it twists your nightmares, his scream cut off by the sound of his choking as his father chokes him, face turning blue.

The nightmares only happen when you sleep without him. Now that he’s back to functioning health, you’re allowed to spend however long you want with him - in theory, anyway. Though the adults keep muttering about how improper it is for two teenagers to be having sleepovers, it’s easier to let you have your way than to try and pull you apart. 

Everyone remembers Vernon screaming the last time they’d done that. 

Plus, there’s no way that the Tower hasn’t noticed Soonyoung occasionally slipping into Baby’s room after waking up from nightmares. Vernon shares a wall with him now, and sometimes Soonyoung’s sharp shouting stirs you from sleep before you hear the soft click of his door and his footsteps fade toward the youngest Choi’s room. 

No one says anything, though. It’s like the Tower had told the group of you years ago: you’re bound together for life. 

That is certainly true enough for Soonyoung and Seungcheol’s sister, who covet one another like greedy little magpies hoarding treasure. Seungcheol covets no one and nothing, but he’s grown out of the sulky, mean teenager phase and remains a bulwark for the rest of you - especially between you and the adults. 

The first hint of autumn air kisses the back of your neck. Vernon’s fingers are linked with yours, leading you toward the gazebo near the retention pond at the south end of the estate. You both pause as you near the small turtle pond, both of you crouching down to say hello.

They swarm to the edge of the pool, stretching their necks up to greet Vernon who smiles brightly, gently petting each and every one of their heads. You recognize Blush when you see her, much larger in size but just as beautiful with her rouge ears and beady eyes. 

Giggling, you hold your hand out to her, letting her come up to gently nip at your finger. When she decides you have no snacks for her, she ducks under the water, little legs kicking as she vanishes into the murky bottom. 

Satisfied, Vernon stands up and offers you his hand again. You take it, smiling. It occurs to you how genuinely happy you are. It’s one of the few days you have off between school, meetings with Minji, and combat classes led by Old Man Vero and Seungcheol. 

The memory of Seungcheol putting you on your ass the first day sours your mood a little. He’d told you it was for that punch all those years ago, and you didn’t blame him. Now, there’s no bad blood between the two of you. As the future Tower, he takes your self defense seriously. 

You’re also the only one of your group of five who has murdered a fully grown man. 

It’s not something to brag about. There are other teenagers your age in the organization who have killed. Most of them are less fortunate - their parents aren’t high up the rung in the Syndicate or they’ve fallen from grace. Some of the others don’t have parents and are in the Syndicate to survive. 

Death isn’t something you want to think about while with Vernon though, so you shove it away as he walks up the steps of the gazebo. Wisteria trees surround the building, the purple leaves draping the railings and stretching through some of the windows. A few yards away, the pond ripples as a family of ducks swims across. 

Vernon sits on the bench, tilting his face upward into a ray of sun. You sit close next to him, pivoting so you can face him directly, eyes scanning his face as he closes his eyes to enjoy the warmth. 

A smile tugs at your lips. Your entwined hands rest in his lap, his tumb absently rubbing back and forth across the top of your hand. He is so beautiful. He’s regained some of this tan back now that he’s somewhere he can go outside and enjoy the sun. His freckles are a little darker for it, skin a little more flushed and glowing.

Glinting gold catches your eyes. You smile when you see the gold chain peeking from the collar of his shirt. You know the angel that you used to wear is tucked under his shirt, a new talisman for protection. You’d given it to him the night you’d saved him from his father, clasping the chain around his neck with bloody, shaky hands and promising that it would bring him protection. 

You reach out toward Vernon with the hand not holding his, fingers brushing the top of his cheek bones. He doesn’t open his eyes but he grins and turns toward you, letting your fingers trace his nose, the shape of his brows, his lips. Your fingers stop at his mouth, pinching his lips together in a pout lightly. 

He chuckles but doesn’t laugh - not really. You wish he was able to, aching to hear his voice again. 

Vernon’s eyes flutter open. The sun hits him just right, turning his brown irises into molten gold. Your heart beats a little faster as you lean on your palm, watching him. He has the most incredibly eyes, turning from brown to burnished gold in the right light, and-

He interrupts your thoughts and says your name. You blink once. Twice. Not Angel. Not any other nickname. Your name. In his raspy, but deep voice, that is soft as velvet and oh oh oh. 

“You-” Your voice catches. “You shouldn’t talk unless you’re able.” 

He says your voice again and your hands squeeze his, turning into a vice grip. “I’ve been practicing,” he whispers, and you lean forward, not wanting to miss a word. “I can start talking again. Just wanted you to hear me before anyone else.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He nods. “I promise.” He pauses. “Are you going to cry?”

“No.” 

He laughs - actually laughs - when you turn your face away from him to look at the pond, eyes flowing with tears. He pulls you close to him, leaning into your space. He smells like rain and earth, petrichor and vetiver. Vernon says your name again and you look at him, heart hammering. 

“Vernon,” you whisper back, like an answer to the way he says your name. 

He shakes his head and you frown, questioning. “Hansol.” 

Only my mom gets to call me Hansol and it’s ‘cause I love her. 

Now you are definitely crying. It makes him laugh because he knows you hate crying, but he is the only person in the world who can move you to tears. He’s the only person allowed. 

“Hansol,” you murmur. 

His smile lights up the entire world. 

-

“Hansol!” You screech, tripping over the shoes he left by the door. You kick the boots, sending them flying into the entryway. “You motherfucker, stop leaving your shoes in front of the fucking door!” 

No one answers your complaints. Huffing, you toe off your boots, slick with rain. They’re heavy and caked in mud, messing up the rug at the front of the door. Instead of leaving your shoes where anyone walking in can trip over them, you pick them up and put them on the shoe rack like a decent human being. 

Simmering, you walk into the house proper. The lights are off but there’s a vetiver candle on the counter in the kitchen, filling the house with a scent that smells exactly like Hansol. It lessens your stormy mood a bit as you get to the stairs, climbing them two at a time to get to the second floor faster.

One of the smaller guest houses on the Choi Estate has been taken over by you and Hansol entirely. There are only two bedrooms on the second floor, but that’s all you need. A single room for the two of you to share, and one room for the egregious amount of weapons and paraphernalia to do your jobs. 

The paraphernalia room - or the Pew Pew Place, as Mingyu calls it - is heavily locked with a bioscanner and a digital padlock. You pass it as you walk toward the tiny, spiral staircase in the corner of the hall. You climb it, careful not to tip over the hand railing that is far too low, ducking into an attic turned greenhouse of sorts. 

It’s really Hansol’s rain room. There are some plants hanging from the ceiling, their waxy green leaves spilling over the sides and thriving in the sunlight when it pours through the glass ceiling. Now, the ceiling is misty and awash with rain as it taps on the glass. 

A record player stands against one of the walls, a massive shelf of nothing but records expanding to the side of it. There’s also a small coffee cart and sitting area for when Seungkwan or Mingyu want to come over. 

The object of your ire - and now affection - is lounging on the green chaise by the window, hands behind his head as he stares up at the water sluicing down the roof, his headphones on and making him unaware of you standing in the entryway. 

Sighing, your anger immediately melts. Instead of yelling at him for the shoes, you walk toward him, feeling the exhaustion wear you down. Anger and exhaustion are the only two things you seem to feel lately. Even your love for Hansol sometimes seems blotted out by the size of your anger, which has turned into an ancient creature that you’re unsure how to control. 

For now, you will it away - beg it to leave. It’s easier to do when you’re sinking into Hansol’s lap, startling him from his reverie. You smile as you lean down, laying on his chest. He wraps one arm around you while the other pulls off his headphones, the music pausing as he does. 

Hansol is warm and smells like the rain he’s watching - soothing, making you forget about everything for just a second. Underneath your cheek, you feel the steady rhythm of his heart, one of your favorite sounds. 

Instead of saying anything, you both just lie there, you on top of him while he holds you, content to run his hands absently up and down your back. It’s nice. Moments like this lately are few and far between, the world spinning so fast that it’s hard to stop and take a second to just hold him. 

As if it can sense your moment of peace, Hansol’s phone starts to ring. You hiss and he groans. You want him to ignore it. He wants to ignore it. But you know that ringtone anywhere, and despite wanting to keep this moment for longer than five minutes, Hansol reaches into his pocket to answer Seungcheol’s phone call.

“Yes, Tower?” 

You bury your face in Hansol’s chest, which vibrates when he speaks. “Got it. Yeah.” He sighs, running a hand down his face. “Alright.”

He hangs up the phone. “Tell him no.” 

“You tell him no. He’s actually afraid of you.”

“Seungcheol isn’t afraid of anyone.”

Well. That isn’t explicitly true. You wouldn’t say that Seungcheol is afraid of you, but he’s certainly wary. Wary in the way someone might be a bomb that is under their roof. Wary in the way someone’s exotic pet has started to corrode under animal instinct. Wary in the way one might be when one of their prime killers recently lost the only person she ever really considered a mother, setting her on a warpath. 

Your jaw works. Yoon Minji had been the last connection you’d had to your father. Somehow, losing her has felt worse.

It wasn’t like your father, who had finally withered away from cancer. Minji had been picture-perfect health, if not a little old and weary from running the Syndicate while Choi Moojin withered away to sickness after his wife’s passing. Minji was built of different stuff. Strong in the face of death. A force to be reckoned with as her friends aged out of life without her, leaving her to be the steadfast Wisdom manning the helm.

Then the Kim and Yong Syndicates had struck like snakes in the night, a move only cowards were capable of. The only reason the Choi Syndicate hadn’t fallen to the treachery of the Kim’s entirely was because of the Tower’s daughter. Her forced marriage to Kim Yujin had ultimately been the Choice Syndicate's saving grace, her call coming only two hours prior to the coordinated attack, a warning that an overthrow was in process. 

It had been enough time for most people. 

It hadn’t been enough time for you or Jeonghan to get to Minji. Not enough time to figure out why they knew where she was or how to get her. Now, you were both trying to stay adrift in the aftermath of losing your shared anchor - Jeonghan worse than you but you… worse than you expected. 

“You okay?” Hansol’s voice brings you back to the present. Only Hansol is able to drag you out of those churning waters where your eldritch anger lurks, waiting. Watching. Hungry. “I gotta go soon but if you’re not good-”

“I’m good.” Lie. “I’m just sleepy.”

“Cheol is working us to death.”

Except it isn’t the Tower working you to death. The Tower isn’t putting you to work at all. He is actually staunchly avoiding you, letting the Wisdom of the Choi Syndicate wield you like a weapon of vengeance instead. 

Yoon Jeonghan takes aim at his enemies often these days. 

Vengeance. That is what your stepbrother had called it when he started gathering his list of soon-to-be-dead in his office. Vengeance for his mother’s murder, vengeance for trying to take out the Choi Syndicate, vengeance for anyone who had anything to do with any of it. 

It isn’t traditionally the Wisdom’s job to dole out punishment and retribution, but Jeonghan is still actively looking for how the Kim family discovered the Yoon family safehouse, something that could have only come from inside. 

Which means the Kim family have a Watcher inside the Choi Syndicate, someone with access to the inner circle. Someone you trust someone you know, someone who- 

Anger begins to twist your insides again. Hansol sees the change in you, his eyebrows creasing as he looks down at where you lay on his chest. Instead of looking at him directly, you press your cheek to his chest and close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat, trying to let it ground you. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

No. “Yes.” 

You don’t dare look at him because you think Hansol sees right through you. You’ve never hidden anything from him, and you don’t quite know why you do now. Why you pretend that you’re not eroding inside, why you hide the ancient anger that becomes so raw that you can’t stand it. 

Shame. 

Shame that you cannot get rid of this feeling inside of you. Shame that you’ve never felt like this. Shame that you don’t know how to tell him what you’re feeling how to articulate that you feel wrath so intense that it makes you suffocate, makes you see red, makes you-

“I gotta go,” Hansol says softly. You cling to him a little tighter reflexively. His laugh vibrates through you, followed by a heavy sigh. “We’ll be okay, right?” That makes you look up at him sharply. His face is serious, eyes dark. “We’ve been through shit before. This stuff with the Syndicate war - we’ll be fine?” 

“Of course we will.” 

It feels like a lie.

Carefully, he extracts you from him. You don’t want to let him go - you never do. But you peel yourself from him anyway, trailing after him as he goes down to the second flood of the house into your padlocked room. You can’t bring yourself to part from him yet, silently handing him a gun over the counter and running your hands along the inseams of his jacket to make sure he has what he needs.

It’s a bit of a ritual. Usually, you’d be doing it together. As Rooks of the Choi Syndicate, you and Hansol have unique jobs. Collecting debts, reminding people of their debts, and applying pressure are the main responsibilities of your positions. 

Applying pressure is a gentle way to put it. You find what makes people weak, and then you hurt it until they’re begging you to stop. You salt their wounds, you kick them when they’re down, you make good on their promises. It’s work that requires an inability to feel guilt and a willingness to go however far the Tower needs you to go. 

You and Hansol are good at that. Minji had trained you to be good at that, becoming two of the best assets for the Syndicate - especially now that it was a time of Syndicate war where the Chois were facing down the Kim and Yong families simultaneously. Now was the time to apply pressure and to ensure that everyone who had promised to be loyal to the Choi Syndicate was keeping their promises - especially now that Seungcheol had stepped into his father’s role. 

Syndicate war makes people unsettled. It’s a time of uncertainty, especially among the city officials and law enforcement trying to assert control over the Syndicate families. While the Syndicates hold no political power in the city, they have wealth, assets and connections, making them very competent and powerful puppeteers. 

Ensuring that those who threw in their bets with the Choi family still intended to do so is paramount. As is eliminating anyone who so much as thinks about switching sides, undermining the Tower, or trying to leverage the conflict for their gain. 

Hansol stops at the doorway to kiss you goodbye before he leaves. It’s soft and lingering, like he would rather be raked over hot coals than go do whatever errand Seungcheol is sending him on. You don’t blame him. There aren’t that many people in the family that do what the two of you do, and Hansol is the Rook that Seungcheol trusts the most, his brother by bond - and by blood, though most didn’t know that. 

“Will you be home tonight?” Hansol mutters the question against your lips, unwilling to part from you just yet. He tastes like vanilla chapstick, lips soft and supple. You shake your head and he sighs. “Alright. Let me know when you leave here.”

“Yeah.” 

He kisses you again and steps away. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

When the door shuts behind Hansol and you’re left to your own devices, the wrath begins to stir again. 

-

Sickly sweet incense hangs in the air as you near the lounge. A beaded curtain separates the main hall from the lounge beyond, parting with a soft, clicking hiss as you slide through the strands. The cloying scent of incense is far more intense in the room, accompanied by the smell of something sweet burning. 

Pink, velvet couches crowd around a small table. On the table is a smattering of bottles, a pipe with half burn resin in it, a spilled bag of frosbyte, and a handful of cash. Your boots stain the carpet with mud as you tread to one of the couches, throwing yourself across one as you wait. 

“Be with you in a minute,” a soft, feminine voice comes from beyond another beaded curtain. 

While you wait, you look around the room. There’s a small personal bar shoved in the corner with miscellaneous brands of liquor. In a room as cheap as this one, there are no holograms or high-tech lights to entrance patrons - just a shitty disco ball that barely refracts the light with some music skipping as the internet goes in and out over the speakers. 

At the soft clack of the beaded curtains opening, you drop your gaze to the back of the room where the room’s renter comes through. At first, she enters the room with a coy smile, the silk robe falling off of her shoulder to show milky white skin. 

The second she sees you, she tries to turn on her heel and go back to the room. 

“Leaving so soon, Rosalind?” 

Rosalind stops her retreat immediately. Like the perfectly practiced entertainer she is, she spins and fixes you with a plastic smile. You’re no whore, but you know a whore’s smile when you see one. She approaches you with a lazy gait, appearing at ease, but when she sits, it's a hairsbreadth too far away and there is a slight pinch in her shoulders.

“Nonsense,” she assures you, dropping the soft affectation in her voice to her heavily accented, naturally voice. “I just didn’t wanna wear this fuckin’ wig if its just you.”

Lie. 

“You know I love the black hair,” you agree. She has on a silvery wig now, giving her the illusion she’s some sort of moon deity. There’s a shimmer to her skin that makes her ethereal in the right light, but with the shitty disco ball, it looks tawdry. “How’ve you been?”

“Business is slow. You Syndicate-types have everyone up in arms.” Leaning forward, she gestures to the abandoned pipe on the table. “You mind?”

“By all means.” 

You watch her as she picks up the pipe. Her hands shake a little, either from the shitty resin she keeps smoking or from the anxiety of seeing you sitting in her lounge. It could be either, it could be both. She lights the end of the pipe and inhales, coughing brutally for a second, the wet sound of her lungs a result of smoking low grade shit. 

After a few more tugs and another coughing fit where her eyes water, she puts the resin down, leaning back to spread her arms along the back of the couch. “What can I do for you, Angel girl?”

“Nothing. Just checking in on you.” 

“Oh?” 

“You’re not officially under the banner of the Choi Syndicate and I’m fine with that. But you’ve helped me in the past - I like to ensure that those who help me stay protected.” 

Her mouth twitches upward. “Are you getting sweet on me?”

“I’m always sweet on you.” Your gaze sweeps the room. “If you did want to be under the Choi banner, I could give you better accommodations, you know.”

“I don’t like to be controlled by the Syndicates.”

“So you’ve always said.”

Leaning your head against the back of the couch, you sigh. Looking up at the ceiling, your eyes trace the water and smoke stains. This room really is a piece of shit, but it’s belonged to Rosalind since before you were an official Rook under Choi Moojin, and then Choi Seungcheol. 

There used to be a sort of charm to the room. You always thought it looked like one of those cheap collages that Baby put together in her mood boards with white lace, red velvet, plasticky hearts and quotes from all of the romance movies that she liked. It had always felt nostalgic. 

Now you see it for what it really is - desperate to be something it's not. 

Your fingers drum on the couch. “You’ve always admired your independence,” you eventually say. Rosalind watches you, finally at ease. “I admire that about you. I didn’t have much independence growing up.”

“I don’t think most Choi’s do.”

“I’m not a Choi.” 

“You’re practically married to one.” You cut your eyes over to Rosalind and she grins. “Yeah, I know about the boy.” 

“Of course you do. You know a lot of shit.”

“That's why you’re so sweet on me.”

“Yeah.” You laugh airly. “It is.” 

Silence stretches between the two of you. From down the hall, you can hear the heavy grunt of a man fucking into something. In a proper brothel, you’d never have to hear the sounds of anyone else fucking - unless that thing was specifically requested. 

“When did you tell the Kims where Minji’s safehouse was?” You ask, turning to fix your gaze on Rosalind. Her smile drops. “Since I’m so sweet on you I thought you’d be willing to ask.” 

“I don’t know where Yoon Minji’s safe house is. I didn’t like the bitch but I’ve never sold her out.” 

“Hm.”

 You look back up at the ceiling, feeling eerily like you’re at a therapist appointment. You’d started going as a bit of a joke with Jeonghan, wondering what would happen if you told her snatches of your life. You leave out the murder, of course, but you’re pretty sure she knows. 

The thing your therapist is most interested in is your relationship with Hansol, asserting that you’re codependent. You’re not entirely interested in what it means or that it’s bad. Of course you’re codependent on Hansol - there is no one else in the world you want or would rather trust. 

And yet you’re here, on a rampage that he is unaware of. 

 “You know, Rosalind,” You say airly. “I would believe you except… I have a really good instinct for this shit. It’s what makes me good at my job, and it’s why you always respected me.” 

For a second, she doesn’t answer. Then, she changes her tone of voice, earnest. “I would never sell out Yoon Minji, Angel. I don’t want the Chois as an enemy.” 

“There it is again.” You sit up and point at her. “Do you know that when you lie, you take a tiny little breath right before? Like someone might do right before they jump from a cliff.”

“I’m not lyin-”

“Lie again and I will cut off a fucking finger like that bitch Yoon Minji taught me.” 

“Angel,” she begs, sliding off the couch to her knees. Her hands are rubbing on her thighs, shaking her head when she looks at you. “I’m telling you, I swear on my life.”

You stare at one another. Sweat gathers on Rosalind’s brow. The synthetic strands of her wig stick to her forehead. Her eyeshadow is smudged, her lipstick not done right, a little bit overlined. You see the glue holding the fake lashes to her waterline, the separation of the body glitter on her skin as she starts to sweat. 

Clapping your hands on your thighs and standing, you announce, “I believe you.” 

She nearly collapses with relief. “Really?”

“No, but it was funny to see how relieved you are. Soonyoung!” 

A series of crashes echoes from the hall. The wall vibrates as someone gets knocked into it, followed by heavy footsteps. Soonyoung comes crashing through the beaded curtain, dragging a young woman by the hair after him. The tape over her mouth keeps most of the screams to muffled grunts as she twists in his hands, her nails wrapped around his wrist where she tries to get him to let go. 

Rosalind lets out a sound like a wounded animal but she doesn’t dare move. Soonyoung throws the girl to your feet, sending her tumbling into the coffee table. Things fly off the surface, crashing into the already stained carpet. 

Whimpering, the girl crawls away from you toward where Rosalind is kneeling, staring at her with an open mouth and tear-lined eyes. Before the woman can make it far, Soonyoung steps on her fingers, making her wail and thrash.

“Stop!” Rosalind screams, spittal flying. “Stop!”

“This is who the Kims offered to protect, right?” You ask Rosalind as Soonyoung applies more pressure to the woman’s fingers. She goes rigid with tension as the pain wracks her. “This is your daughter? Got into a nice ass school two weeks ago - a boarding school, even. All the way across the world.”

“Please,” Rosalind begs. “Please.”

“I thought to myself, Rosalind has had all this time to ask me to protect her kid. Never once asked the Chois to do it. And then suddenly she’s accepted into something you can’t afford so very far away… and I wondered. Who is this woman’s dad?” 

“Angel, please.” 

“No daddy on the birth certificate but… she looks so much like Kim Minchan’s niece. They have such pretty eyes in that family.” 

Rosalind is openly weeping now, the sobs wracking her body. You stare at her and feel the ancient anger inside of you curl in pleasure, teeth clicking as you get ready to strike. The violent ocean that has manifested as your wrath is ready now, waters churning, waiting, hungry. 

Slowly, you crouch down to Rosalind’s level, staring at her across the coffee table. “Who fucking told you where Yoon Minji’s safehouse was, Rosalind?” 

She shakes her head. You look up at Soonyoung, who looks like the devil with his white-blonde hair and beady, black eyes. He leans on his foot, crushing the girl’s fingers under the toe of his boot. She screams, thrashing again. Surely they’re broken by now. 

“Stop!” 

“Tell me,” you coo, nodding sympathetically. “Tell me, Rosalind. Or I’m going to kill her in front of you. Alright? Tell me.” 

Rosalind nods. Her makeup streams in black, inky tendrils down her face. She struggles to suck in a breath, coughing through her resin-ruined lungs. You watch with predatory stillness as she manages to suck in a breath, nodding to herself again. 

“Jung Lan.”

You frown. “Jung Lan is dead. He was murdered protecting Choi Moojin.”

She shakes her head. “The son. Junior.” 

Sucking in a breath, you look up at Soonyoung. His eyes are storming, the churning waters of his violence the same as the thrashing anger inside of you. It is, perhaps, the only time you’ve ever related to Kwon Soonyoung. He glances back to Rosalind, eyes narrowed. 

“Tell me what he told you.” 

“He didn’t tell me with the purpose of giving it to the Kims. Just ran his mouth while he was here. Said his old man deserved the house she was given, not Minji. Said it was in Cascade. That’s it. I swear that’s it. Please.”

You nod at Soonyoung and he lifts his foot from the young woman’s hand. Her fingers are crushed and bent at odd angles, bruised under the heavy weight of his foot. He looks at you and you give him a curt nod. Expressionless, he pivots and marches from the room, vanishing with a snap of beaded curtains.

Rosalind sags in relief, collapsing inward on herself as she sobs. Her daughter starts to crawl to her and you let her, watching the way she folds herself into her mother’s lap. The way you might fold into Minji’s lap, in another life. 

In that life, where you were born to her, maybe, instead of the woman who gave birth to you. In another life where you and Jeonghan still had a fierce figure to lead you through the trenches of this fucked up mess. In another life where she wasn’t dead and you could lay your head in her lap to let her comb your hair. 

It doesn’t exist - never existed. Even alive, you don’t think that was in your future for you and your stepmother. But she had made you tea and comforted you, had taught you how to weaponize what little skills you had, turned you into something that could protect Hansol no matter the cost. 

“Thank you,” Rosalind whispers, crushing her daughter to her. 

“For what?”

“For sparing her.”

When the first electric pulse of a gun being fired and screams come from down the hall, Rosalind looks at you, wide eyed. You grin, the rage taking shape on your face. “I didn’t.” 

-

It’s dark when you get home. The clock floating above the holoscreen stand says it’s just past four in the morning, which is earlier than you thought you would get home. Every part of you is tired and dragging, each step weighed down more than the last.

Dissatisfaction follows you, haunting your every step. You feel the weight of its presence as you try to run away from it to the second floor, shoving it away. You feel no better after ridding the world from the woman who’d traded secrets, along with the entire establishment. 

You don’t feel guilty. You’d done it eagerly and with Soonyoung’s help. They had deserved it, not only for betraying the Choi Syndicate, but for having the nerve to pretend to be neutral for all of these years, benefiting from servicing all three of the city’s main syndicates. 

The problem with neutrality, though, is there’s no one to save you when death is on your doorstep. 

None of it makes you feel better, though. You don’t feel justified. You don’t feel like you did a good job. It doesn’t feel like a box that has been checkmarked. Your anger asks for more, wants more, needs more. 

Hansol is asleep in bed when you come in. He doesn’t stir, too heavily knocked out to sense you. Here in your home in the heart of the Choi Estate, there’s no reason to sleep light for fear of intruders. Here, in his home with you, he can be completely at ease.

You stare at him as you change into a sleep shirt, leaving nothing else on. He looks at peace, face completely relieved of the stress of his evening or the constant frown he’s started to wear around you. Hansol looks like his younger self when he sleeps, face swollen where it’s smushed against the pillow, mouth parted as he snores a bit. 

When you crawl into bed, he stirs. He blinks those round, gentle eyes at you, immediately recognizing your home. His hands seek you, stretching across silky sheets to grab you by the hips and pull you close, needing your warmth. He smells like vetiver and petrichor, immediately soothing the unsettled feeling nipping at your heels. 

It isn’t enough.

As Hansol’s eyes drift shut, planning to go back to sleep now that you’re here, you lean forward and press your mouth to his. You feel the question in the curve of his mouth for only a second before he relents and kisses you back, lips tired and slow, a little lazy. 

You tangle your legs with his, hooking your knee behind his to pull him flush to you. He grunts, but goes with the flow, his hand sliding up your thigh to rest on your hip, fingers tentative. You want more of him, need more of him. You want to drown in him until this - this whatever it is eats you alive and leaves nothing less. 

Hansol senses your need because of course he does. He knows you better than anyone else in the world, and when your mouth turns desperate, he understands. Instead of asking questions, Hansol comes alive, rising up from sleep to lean over you and push you down into the mattress. 

A soft sound leaves your mouth and he drinks it down, gentle mouth turning into bruising hunger. 

Yes. It vibrates though you as his teeth scrape your bottom lip as he sucks on it gently. Yes. When he drags his nails up your thighs, scratching. Yes when he leans his weight into your hips, pinning you to the bed underneath. 

This is part of why you love Hansol. He’s able to flip the switch he needs to meet you halfway, to offer whatever salve you need to the burn, whatever fire you need to rouse you. It’s an instinct of his, a calling that he answers every time. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him close. His kisses are needy and messy, turning to more tongue and teeth than anything. You thread your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling slightly. It earns a groan from him, his warm breath ghosting across your slick-bitten lips as he mouths across your jaw. 

Hansol grabs your thigh and wraps it around his waist. You squeeze, pinning him to you while he lets go of your leg, hand drifting to your bare ass to squeeze generously. You tug his hair in response and his laughter comes out in a huff of air. 

Attaching his mouth to your neck, Hansol slides his hands under your shirt. His palms are warm but you shiver at the feeling of his rough calluses scraping against your soft skin. He drags the tips of his fingers along the curve of your breast, teasing and light. 

“Don’t,” you growl, fingers going tight in his hair. “Not tonight.”

He bites you sharply, making you moan and arch into him. His tongue soothes the sting of his teeth and you feel his grin against your skin as his mouth drifts toward your shoulders. 

Hansol listens, though. Instead of teasing you with his feather-light touch, he flicks his thumb back and forth over a nipple, making you shiver. Being in his hold feels so good, the violence of the night fading to the background as Hansol’s hands and mouth numb the anger. 

After over a decade together, there is nothing he doesn’t know about you. He knows the way you like to be kissed, the way you have a sensitive spot under your ear, attaching his mouth to it and sucking greedily. He knows you like to be scratched and bitten, that you need to feel nothing but him for a moment of peace.

Hansol peels the shirt off of you. You don’t even feel the chill of the room, just the heat of his hands turning you over to press your face down into the mattress, his teeth and lips on the back of your shoulder, his other hand hooking behind your knee to pull it upward and spread you open. 

Your fingers dig into the mattress as Hansol sinks down, pressing kisses to your spine. It feels like you can’t stop shaking, only focused on the way his tongue darts out occasionally to taste your burning skin. His hands don’t stop either, squeezing the back of your thighs, skimming upward to gently squeeze your ass.

The ache for him is nearly unbearable by the time you feel the first, soft lick of his tongue on your cunt. You sigh, melting into the mattress as he prods lazily at your entrance before dragging back down to your clit. He knows exactly how to work you, mouth attaching to you and sucking leisurely, like he has all the time in the world to do this.

And he does, doesn't he? You and Hansol have whatever time is fated on this earth to spend together, so why should he rush? Why should he not enjoy the way you shake under the buzz of his mouth as he licks and sucks at you fervently, his hands running up and down the back of your thighs as he drags his nails along your skin. 

Reaching back with one of your hands, you sink your fingers into his hair. Hansol hums appreciatively, the buzz of his mouth against your pussy making you moan his name. He’s messy with it, devouring you in a way that makes nothing else in the world matter. You writhe under him, face hidden in pillows, short of breath.

The muscles in your lower stomach start to squeeze and you feel the force of your orgasm coming. Hansol can tell by the sounds you make, his hands turning firm as he keeps you pried open at the thighs, pressing his face further into you.

Your fingers tighten in his hair and you come with gritted teeth, screaming into pillows that smell like him. He continues to mouth at you, eager to work you through the full length of your orgasm. It sends you into overdrive, muscles twitching, legs shaking, lungs barely able to take in a breath. 

With a final, messy kiss to your pussy, he peels away, taking under a minute to shed himself of his clothes. Heaving, you lift your face from the pillows, feeling sticky drool on your chin to turn over your shoulder and look at him. 

You can barely see him in the darkness of the room, but you can just make out his shape as he shuffles to you on his knees, hands pumping his cock slowly. You make a desperate sound and he huffs - laughter, you know. He slides a hand underneath your thigh again, hitching one knee up high on the bed while the other is pressed flat. 

Hansol keeps your leg pinned there, stretching you open, muscles expanding as he presses the head of his cock into your entrance. His name escapes your mouth in a whine, feeling the way your walls spasm around him as he sinks in. The position has him hitting deep. You feel him everywhere, feel the way he invades your senses. 

“S’good,” you whisper when you feel his hips press against your ass. Your cunt flutters around him, trying to accommodate for the stretch. “Fuck.”

He hums in response, keeping one hand on your thigh to pry you open and the other on your hip to hold you in place as he retracts, the slide of his cock sending your eyelids fluttering. 

Hansol sets a hard pace from the jump, each one of his thrusts targeted and on point. He punches the air from your lungs and you become a panting mess under him, barely able to breathe. He puts his weight into it, leaning over you to stretch your leg higher up on the bed and crush you to the mattress the way you like, the way you need.

It feels safe here, jolting under the weight of him as he fucks into you hard, his grip tightening on you as you whine and clench around him. You dig your fingers into the sheet, twisting and tearing as if it can release the tension coiling inside you, begging to be let out.

For a brief moment, he slows his pace, pulling away from you. Your eyes snap open, ready to fire off a question when you feel him pry you open to spit onto the tight rim of your ass. You suck in a tight breath of air and hear him laugh before he presses the pad of his thumb to the ring of muscles there.

“Oh,” you breathe, melting. He doesn’t press his finger in, just keeps it firm on the seam of your ass, adding pressure and stimulation that sends you into a thoughtless daze. 

“Yeah,” he grunts, picking up his pace again, cock hitting deep. “Oh.” 

You don’t have a response - know that he’s teasing you, having sensed your brief moment of annoyance in the split second it took him to add another element of pleasure. You know Hansol will never disappoint you here wrapped in sheets that stick to your sweaty skin, sheets that smell like him, but you’ve always been quick to protest, quick to strike first. 

It doesn’t bother him. Nothing about you bothers him after this long together. Not you coming home and waking him up, needing to be fucked into the mattress to forget the hate coiling inside you. Not you being utterly useless tonight, letting him do all the work as he brings you to the brink of coming again. Not you reaching back to grab the wrist of the hand he has on your thigh, your nails digging in so hard you make him bleed. 

Hansol takes it all. Takes your shaking orgasm, takes the way you moan his name, takes his time as he fucks you through your high before he drops the hold he has on your leg to hold your hips to the bed instead. Takes the breath from your lungs when his thrusts turn from hard to brutal, hips crashing into you, forcing each breath from your lungs. 

The world goes blank. There’s just you laying in a bed that smells like petrichor and vetiver, breath coming to a screeching halt as your face presses into the mattress. He keeps you pressed there, a hand sliding to the middle of your back to keep you pinned, the other working the clenching rim of your ass.

If you could make a sound, you might scream. Instead, you shudder under him, coming violently and without air, ears ringing and blood rushing. It’s exactly what you were looking for, a specific high that only Hansol can give you. 

Eventually, he rolls you over and you gulp in air. You’re barely aware of anything, floating in the dizzy space between. A hand laces with yours, squeezing your fingers. You squeeze back, letting Hansol’s grip keep you tether as you gain your bearings. 

Slowly, you come back to the present. You blink your eyes open, despite how heavy they feel. You could fall asleep any moment, spent and toeing the edge of the nothing sleep always brings. Hansol is looking at you though, a look in his eye that sparks a little life in you.

“What?” you ask, voice barely above a raspy whisper. “What’s wrong?” 

Hansol’s hair is damp with sweat, pressed flat to his forehead. His eyes are dark and simmering with something unreadable but intense. 

“I should ask you that,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “What’s going on?” 

The question sours your efforts to forget immediately. His concern shatters the illusion that you’d let him fuck into you, removes the numbing you’d practically crawled into his lap for. With his worry comes the sharp stab of reality, all the anger and wrath and ugliness that you keep trying to shove down rearing its monstrous head.

“Nothing, Hansol.” Your words crack like a whip and you let go of his hand to roll over, turning your back to him. “I was just stressed.”

“So tell me what you’re stressed about.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but we have stressful jobs.”

“You are not stressed over your job. Don’t sell me that. You have to be honest with me. You said we’d get through this shit together. You gotta talk to me, Angel.” 

Your heart starts to pound in your chest. You are suddenly painfully awake, body riddled with the tension Hansol had just gotten rid of minutes ago. Sweat slicks your skin anew, but this time from the anxiety of how close you feel to tipping over. 

“Can we just go to sleep?”

He scoffs. “I was asleep until you crawled in here looking at me like you were going to die. Why are you shutting me out?”

“I’m not shutting you out. You were quite literally just inside me.”

“Stop twisting what I’m fucking saying. I’m asking you to be open with me and no amount of you being a bitch is going to make me shut up. I know that’s what you want.” 

As always, Hansol is absolutely correct. He doesn’t miss. It’s what makes him such a good Rook, but makes him a good life partner. And he is your life partner. You’ve never said any vows at an alter and there’s no ring on your finger, but Hansol has been your soulmate and your partner since long before he pulled you out of that bathtub. 

And here you are hiding from him, crawling to him to beg him to numb you without any reason why, taking but not giving, demanding but not paying him back. Here you are trying to piss him off into silence, being as frustrating as possible to get him to give up and decide he doesn’t feel like fighting this battle.

He knows it. You know it.

A fissure appears on your resolve. Hansol says nothing, his words doing all the work for him as you mull them over. He doesn’t have to press you further - he knows the blow he’s dealt has worked, waiting in heavy silence as the facade you’ve built over the last few weeks starts to crumble to show him the ugly thing you’ve been keeping to yourself. 

“I’m angry,” you whisper. It comes out shaky. Scared. He doesn’t dare breath or move, letting you pour through the cracks he’s made. “I’m angry and I don’t know why and it’s like I can’t stop being angry. I feel it like it’s a thing that is alive, like I can’t get rid of it.”

You suck in a shuddering breath, feeling the way you’ve started shaking. You zone out as you speak, vision narrowing to a specific point of darkness in the bedroom. “I feel hate like I’ve never felt before and I swear it’s going to eat me alive. It’s like - it feels corrosive and like I can’t satiate it but the only thing that offers any relief is killing anyone who had to do with Minji’s death.” 

Hansol shifts behind you. He doesn’t move closer but you feel his hand move across the bed. He presses his palm flat to the base of your spine. It grounds you, makes it easier for you to continue, “I don’t get it. It’s not like she was my mom. She didn’t - she didn’t give birth to me but she didn’t try to drown me. She didn’t see me as something to be disposed of. She… saw me and embraced me, and thought I was useful. Liked me.” 

Clever girls like you are important. Valuable. Mean something.

Minji’s words left an impression on you. You think about them often, letting them replace the bible vowels your mother used to hiss as you. So many of your memories of a motherly figure are Minji teaching you how to read body language, Minij showing you how to look for the subtleties of deception in financial documents, communications, miscellaneous tidbits. 

“My dad was my god,” you whisper, voice quaking. “But Minji - she was an entity. She taught me how to fight back and keep what I wanted most protected. And they just… killed her in her bed, Hansol.” You realize you’er crying but now you can’t stop. “They broke into her house and killed her in her bed like she was a fucking dog and not Yoon Minji, the Wisdom of the fucking Choi Syndicate.” 

Hansol’s hand drags up and down your spine, slow and hypnotizing. You close your eyes, violently shivering as everything that’s been growing inside of you rushes out in a tide you can’t dam. “All because some stupid fucking kid ran his mouth to the wrong whore. Do you know how angry that makes me? She should have been safe, and a fucking nobody is why she died!” 

Instead of comforting you with words, Hansol deems it’s safe enough to grab you. He pulls your back to his chest, hooking his chin on your shoulder to bury his face in your neck. He’s warm and he feels safe, arms wrapping around you as you seethe. 

“I hate that I’m angry,” you hiss. “It feels so fucking stupid. People die all the time and I don’t care but this one bothers me and it makes me feel ridiculous. Makes me feel stupid - she was Jeonghan’s mom not mine. But I want anyone who had anything to do with it to die, Hansol. I need them to.” 

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Then we’ll kill them.”

Hansol says it so simply. Because of course to him it is simple: you need to feed this desire for revenge or it will kill you, thus it needs to be done. Of course he doesn’t think it’s stupid, doesn’t think you’re being irrational. To Hansol, it doesn’t matter what you want - he wants it too. 

To be loved by Hansol is to be loved entirely, without ifs, without buts, without any stipulations. He takes you exactly as you are, and it makes you break in his hold. He’s the only other person in this world who wants you exactly as you’ve been created.

And maybe that’s why you were so afraid of letting him in to see this. You’ll never get rid of that tiny, irrational fear that he’ll decide he’s seen enough. Nothing you’ve both been through has been easy, and loving you comes with so many obstacles that you don’t know how he doesn’t get tired of overcoming them. 

“You’ll have whatever vengeance you need,” Hansol promises. He nuzzles to you closer. “I’d do anything for you.” 

Once upon a time, your mother thought her god superseded everything. She swore her god was omnipotent, that he would save her and punish the evil around her. He’d never done anything for her, though. Never answered her prayers, never struck down anyone who raised a hand against her, never opened up the skies to cleanse the earth from evil. 

Your god answered your prayers. He struck down those who wished you harm, he erased those who stood in your way. He loved you and rewarded you for your love in turn. He cleansed you. Protected you. Allowed no weapon formed against you to prosper. 

Hansol was your god, and you were his vengeful angel. 

SYNDICATE ROLES

Tower - title for a Syndicate boss Wisdom - title for the second-in-command to a Sydicate boss Sentinel - title for the main military leader of a Syndicate Riots - title for a member of the Syndicate responsible for sowing discord Swords - title for a member of the Syndicate who is a fighter/military role Chariots - members of the Syndicate who make deals/act as business brokers Rooks - members of the Syndicate who collect debts/lead the extortion practices Justices - members of the Syndicate on the legal counsel Hanged Men - members of the Syndicate who betrayed their Syndicate Watchers - members of a Syndicate who are spies/informants Patrons - citizens who pay homage/have an alliance/are under the protection of a Syndicate Vanguard - official members of the Syndicate who don't have specific roles but do work for the Syndicate

TAG LIST

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched @eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy @gyuguys @codeinebelle @Burnt-horizons @ateez-atiny380 @abibliolife @idubiluranghae @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @coralpenguinbeard @gyubakeries @archivistworld @hipsdofangirl @asyre @aksweet7 @bunnybeaer @valenhui @fxckinbreathe @agustamygdala7 @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona @beckyloveshannie @SecretFoxBear @babycaratdeul @aiforyuu @imujings

[tangylemonade]

Family

Pt 2 of No One Else

Jeonghan x afab reader

18+ MINORS DNI (istg 🫵🏾 ಠ_ಠ if I catch you)

Word count: 11.4k

꧁ ☂︎(angst) & ⚠︎(smut) w/ a pinch of ☁︎(fluff) ꧂

🍋’s Queries: Did this fic make you think of a song when you were reading it?

WARNINGS: unprotected sex (don't forget the casing before you stuff your sausage), cursing, mentions/descriptions of abuse/violence, Mafia au, mentions/descriptions of injuries. Jeonghan smokes a bit, talks about having killed someone. Please let me know if I missed anything.

“A liability!” Said Jeonghan’s father, glaring at him as he spoke. “If you are willing to jeopardize a mission then it’s a liability.”

“Everything went well, Father. There was no other way than to kill her.” Jeonghan responded. Forcing himself to remain calm knowing that getting angry would be of no benefit.

He slammed his fist on the table and stood up from his chair, sending it rolling hard into the wall.

“A liability Jeonghan. You deal with it or I do.” He walked to the door.

“Don’t you dare.” Jeonghan said. His voice was serious and cold. It scared him when he heard it.

His father turned around sharply; his hand raised in an angry fist. “Is that a threat boy?”

Without so much as a flinch Jeonghan stared at his fathers angry eyes. Suddenly his father chuckled, clapping Jeonghan on the shoulder.

In his fathers old age he’d become slower and weaker. Jeonghan noticed how the old man's touch didn’t leave behind as much fear. Jeonghan held his place, glaring at his father and maintaining his icy stare.

“Do what you will, boy. But if you ever go against my orders again… you too will be considered a liability. And I never leave loose strings Jeonghan. You know that best of all.”

Jeonghan's father walked out of the room leaving Jeonghan all alone in the dimly lit lavish office to massage his aching shoulder.

His fathers' words echoed heavily in Jeonghan’s mind as he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

The woman his father claimed to love. The woman who carried his unborn child. It didn’t matter that what she did was to save her life, and the life of his son. She was a liability, so he dealt with it leaving their prematurely born baby crying and hungry until the maid took pity.

Jeonghan was raised by the head housemaid Kim, living in the servant quarters and only being allowed in the main house to attend lessons and training. He spent his adolescents clawing his way through insults and blows just to prove himself. It wasn't until he was older that he realized he would never be enough and trying so hard wasn't worth it, but by then the damage was done.

He had a bruised ego and a misplaced heart that struggled to tell the difference between right and wrong.

But in this very moment he was certain about one thing. No one was going to lay a finger on you, not even his father.

His clenched fist left cuts in his palms until the sharp pain sobered him. Without another moment wasted Jeonghan left that dreadful house, his heart only steadying once he was in his car driving towards…you.

☾

“Why do you think Boss sent us together?”

Jeonghan paced in boredom smoking his second cigarette as his slightly younger brother Jisoo worked on opening the newest shipments crate.

“He didn’t. I lied.” Jisoo smiled at him, charming as ever. “Why do you still call him boss? You’ve known he was your father for-like-ever.”

Jeonghan angrily stuffed his hands in his pockets. “He’s no father of mine… wait what do you mean you lied?”

Jeonghan kicked at his brother, but he dodged it without even looking and continued his work.

His brother stopped fiddling with the crate he was opening so he could shrug. “I just didn’t want to go alone.”

He then turned to Jeonghan so he could speak to him directly. “I don’t know why you insist on saying that.”

“What? Why wouldn’t I?" asked Jeonghan. He was starting to feel annoyed with his brother's lack of understanding. “You and I both know he only told me because DongYul is a failure.”

His brother’s expression turned serious as he placed his hands on Jeonghan's shoulders. “Don’t speak about DongYul like that. Besides, it does us no good turning against each other. And listen, Father made sure you got the same experiences as us, only now you understand why. Shit man you probably had it better.”

“How so?”

“At least you have Kim. Our mother didn’t even tell us before she left.”

“Well my mother is dead. My *father* killed her, remember?”

Jisoo shrugged.

Jeonghan looked down. Jeonghan wondered if Jisoo could see the glistening in his eyes as they began to sting. He shrugged off his brother's arm in hopes of shaking off the emotions as well.

“Hey, aren’t you glad that finding out about your lineage included the perks of two awesome brothers?” Jisoo said, changing the subject.

Jeonghan scoffed. “DongYul was a piece of shit, Jisoo.”

“He never got over the fact that your mom was the mistress that made our mom leave. He's actually really sensitive, you know?

“Oh Jisoo The Great Defender of The Sad and Sensitive.” Jeonghan said with a condescending bow.

Jeonghan’s experience with his older brother had been nothing short of cruel. If Jisoo hadn’t kept the peace Jeonghan and DongYul probably would’ve killed each other.

Jisoo rolled his eyes at his brother’s dramatics. “I know he wasn’t the kindest to you, but you have no idea what he’s been through.” Jisoo continued. “The things he’s had to do.”

But Jeonghan did know. He knew of the burdens that came with being the eldest son of Yoon DongHan. He was always nearby when Kim would tend to his brothers after training, missions, and… disciplines. He would hear their horror stories as they recounted in jest to distract from the pain, Dong-Yul drinking alcohol to numb it before he was even 15. He learned before anything else that their father tolerated little.

Mr. Yoon would decorate Jeonghan and his brother for even the slightest incompetence. He would always say “You either learn here or you learn out there, and the world is not as forgiving as I am.”

Their father was right. At least he would stop before they died.

DongYul being the eldest was hit with the brunt of responsibility. He was constantly busy with transactions and helping with the many businesses the Yoon family owned. DongHan only recently split the workload between his sons, not out of compassion but rather for efficiency.

But did it really excuse the way DongYul treated him? Did it matter that his brother was in far more pain than he would put Jeonghan through? And most of all… why did Jeonghan miss him?

•••

When Jeonghan opened the door to the cabin a fragrant aroma filled his nose. Looking around he discovered the source, a pot simmering on the stove.

He turned around to find you reclined on the living room couch, your chest rising and falling with each soft breathing you took.

Jeonghan sighed, his hands scrubbing his eyes as if that could rub some sense into his thoughts.

Taking another look, he picked up a blanket from nearby to drape over you. He hesitated as his eyes took you in up close. There you laid in only panties and one of his white tees that were practically see through. It was hot in the living room and the thin sheen of sweat on your visible skin made it seem as if you were glowing under the warm light.

Smiling, he discarded the blanket and went to turn on the fan.

The noise of the appliance was enough to startle you awake causing you to slide right off of the couch. But before you could hit the ground Jeonghan reached out, catching your body in his arms.

“Careful now.” Jeonghan's voice fell soft against the pounding of your heart in your ear drum.

“Sorry.” You mumbled as you fixed your (his) shirt and sat up straight. “When did you get here?”

You had been in Jeonghan's little secret cabin for a couple weeks now, so things naturally began to slip into a rhythm. Jeonghan would visit in the daytime a few times a week and never stayed the night so you couldn't help but wonder what he was doing here.

“Just now.” He said standing and heading upstairs.

Scurrying to the kitchen you turned off your stew and then walked upstairs after him.

“Are you staying long? I made dinner and it just finished so I'm about to eat.”

His room door was open, so you stepped in while you continued to speak. “Good thing you showed up or I might have burned the house down. I knew that book was too boring, but I wanted to give it a fair shot, you know? Next thing I knew I was…sleeping...” Your voice disappeared as your eyes laid on Joenghans naked form.

He stood there relaxed and unbothered by your intrusion only raising an eyebrow before continuing to undo the clasp of his watch.

You quickly turned around in shame. Before you could slip out of the room, he called your name, and you froze in place.

“Oh- the door was open- I'll just...” You started to walk out again when Jeonghan called out.

“Wait. Help me with this.”

Assuming he meant the watch he was just struggling with you answered quickly. “Of course.’

Trying your best to angle your eyes upwards you turned around and began walking towards him only to be stopped in your tracks once again.

His watch laid neatly on his bed and his hands were busy stroking the semi-hard on he was now sporting.

“If you’re gonna walk around like that you could at least have the decency to help me out.”

You looked down at your thin clothes and wanted to perish on the spot.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight. If you called, I would’ve put on more clothes.”

“Well then, my apologies.” Jeonghan said incredulously in that nonchalant way that you recently discovered made you see red.

“What do you think I-“

“Follow me.” He said firmly, cutting you off and walking towards his bathroom.

You stood there defiantly. What did he think this was? Did he really think you were just going to listen to him? You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. He is just so…so…. ugh. Does he really think you were just at his beck and call?

But weren't you?

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. And it wasn’t the first time you’d helped him out.

Your voice of reason screamed at you as you walked into the bathroom.

The shower was already on, and you could hear a soft grunt coming from behind the curtain.

Your heart pounded through your body as you once again vacillated between your choices.

‘Fuck it.’

You quickly strip before carefully sliding the curtain over. His back was turned to you, his head under the shower as he slowly pumped into his fist. If he noticed, you entering the shower he made no show.

Standing closer to him one arm wrapped around him, resting on his stomach, while the other steadied the hand that he stroked himself with. He relinquished his cock to you, his tired body instantly leaning back into your embrace. His eyes shut contently as your soft hands enveloped him.

Pumping faster and faster you pleasured him until his hot seed coated your hand and the shower wall. Still leaning against he let both of your arms wrap around him, one hand resting on his heart and feeling the slowing rise and fall of his chest as the water splattered against your bodies.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly. You wanted to savor the moment, but his abnormal behavior was making you worried. Normally after he’d finish, he would simply clean up and leave. But today he didn't move, his heart still pounding.

Jeonghan didn’t respond. Instead, he turned around pressing you against the shower wall, his knee pressing into your swollen core before moving over to spread your legs.

His calloused fingers wrapped around your neck with gentle pressure, his lips hungry attaching to yours. The kiss was fiery and urgent, his teeth pulling your bottom lip and drawing blood that you tasted on his tongue as he slid it into your mouth. His free hand wandered your body squeezing and kneading your flesh with gusto. The wayward hand eventually found purchase on your hips, holding them in place as he unceremoniously pushed inside of you.

Your vision blurred as the pain stretched into pleasure, his size pushing deeper into your hot and wet cunt.

Jeonghan groaned into your neck in between sucking harsh bruises into the sensitive skin. Without giving you any more time to adjust he thrusted again, this time coaxing tears from your eyes and his name moaned from your swollen lips. His strokes were quick and angry, but you could feel the tension in his body begin to dissolve. With now slower movements you were able to match his pace with the rocking of your hips. It wasn't long before you were both falling apart, his arms holding you in place as your exhaustion took over.

After showering off and helping you to do the same, Jeonghan pulled you to his bed. You didn't let your bafflement stop you from laying with him and allowing him to rest on your bosom, his arms holding you close.

“Jeonghan…” You softly ran your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp the way you always did after at some point realizing it always relaxed him.

He softly shushed you, his voice thick with exhaustion. “This is nice.”

He was right. This was so nice it hurt. You knew it wouldn't last. A relationship without honesty is destined to fail.

Nevertheless, you selfishly savored the moment, holding him tighter as if it would keep him with you forever. But Jeonghan was gone when you woke up.

Getting up you brushed your teeth and examined your skin in the mirror. The bruises that were kissed into your skin last night and the previous nights now took the place of your old ones that were filled with the haunting memories of your capture. You briefly wondered if that had been his intention before shaking the thought away and getting dressed.

Downstairs there was a simple breakfast on the table for you of toast and eggs. You poured yourself some water, ignoring the food and going back to bed.

☾

Laying in his bed Jeonghan looked at your soft and warm bare body sleeping soundly beside him. His fingers gingerly traced your skin as he breathed in your heavenly scent. Although his heart knew you were safe besides him, his mind still tormented him with the images of you the night he found you. Paranoia forced him to watch over you even though he knew you were safe and sound.

He had killed Stella himself. It wasn’t the first life he’d taken. But it was the first he’d wanted to take. His first kill that was not an order.

When he saw her crouching over your bloodied body… the wicked smile on Stellas face when she saw Jeonghan was the last moment before... he snapped.

The memory of it all played through his mind time and again. He was supposed to bring her in, there were still assets to recover and accomplices only she knew the location of now gone forever.

But Jeonghan didn't hesitate until he was holding you in his arms again.

He did it for you. He did it for…Dongyul.

His eldest brother had been his biggest enemy growing up. But now…it all felt so insignificant.

DongYul who craved compassion his whole life was met with the harsh glares of his father and even harsher blows. Like a moth to flame Stella was intoxicating for him. Despite Jisoo's pleading words he would run to her, taking comfort in the lies she wrapped him in.

Only a few months ago he’d busted into Jeonghan's room, rage burning in his blown-out pupils. But Jeonghan didn't fear him anymore. He stood up looking his brother who no longer towered over him in the eyes.

“Get out.” Jeonghan said calmly and was met with rough hands on his collar.

DongYul reeked of alcohol and his tank top allowed Jeonghan a view of the needle marks that decorated his skin.

“DongYul! What is this!” Jeonghan grabbed his brother's arm, ignoring his brother's aggression. “What were you thinking?”

His concern for his brother surprised them both.

“Save it!” Dongyul growled. He shrugged Jeonghan’s hand from his arm before letting go of his collar.

“What do you even know? You just lay around while everything gets handed to you.’ His voice was bitter and angry.

He pushed Jeonghan hard and Jeonghan stumbled back, banging his head on the wall. Securing his footing, he prepared himself for a fight, but DongYul only sat on the bed, burying his face in his hands.

“You won Jeonghan… you can have it all…but I need her.” His brother's voice was slow and slurred now.

“What do you mean?” Jeonghan asked as you rubbed his now pounding head.

“Kim…Jisoo…S-Stella…” his brother mumbled as he continued to sink as if he weighed a ton.

“…DongYul” Jeonghan began as he walked towards his distressed family member. “I'll call Jisoo… we can help you whatever it is.”

His brother stood up suddenly on shaky legs. “It's too late. I screwed up big time.’

He’d never seen his brother who didn't even flinch while getting stitched up this…broken.

It petrified him.

“Sit here, I'll go get you some water and find Jisoo. Please…we can fix this.”

Jeonghan carefully sat his brother down. Taking his compliance as an agreement Jeonghan rushed to get their youngest brother and grabbed a bottle of water before hurrying back.

But Dongyul was gone.

Unable to look inside his casket, that night was the last time Jeonghan saw his older brother. A raid on what was meant to be a routine weapon exchange ended as a bloody massacre that killed almost ½ of father's men…including his eldest son.

On the night of his eldest son's funeral Mr. Yoon called Jeonghan into his office.

“It’s about time you start taking on more responsibilities as a member of this family. Not just trades, there is more important business for you to attend to.”

Jeonghan did even know why he was shocked; this was exactly like with father. But it still made bile rise in his throat.

“The soil hast even settled yet…’

“As my eldest son I expect you to know your place.’ He cut Jeonghan off without even looking up from the work at his desk. “Don’t become foolish like your brother. And don’t be a coward like your wench of a mother.” He said before waving his hand, ending the conversation and sending Jeonghan away.

“Don't speak about my mother like that!” Jeonghan said without control. Normally he wouldn’t speak back after being dismissed.

His fathers glare wasn't enough to make him back down.

“Do not overstep, boy. I suggest you learn your place before you end up learning it like her. I told you already, I clean up my own messes.”

He looked up at Jeonghan with dark eyes that shone like the devils in the dim light of his office.

Jeonghan used all of his strength to calmly walk away. He shut the door before racing to his bathroom and hurling in the toilet. Kim, who had heard of his meeting with his father from Jisoo, came to check on him.

“Oh dear.” She said when she found him leaning against the bathtub.

She left and returned with tea before sitting next to jeonghan on the bathroom floor where he layed, tears angrily falling from his eyes.

“Did you know?” He asked quietly.

“Know what darling?” Her soothing voice did nothing to calm the turmoil Jeonghan was feeling.

Jeonghan looked at her with tearful eyes. “Did you know that that monster killed my mother?”

Kim could only nod.

She wiped his tears as her own began to fall. “I watched it happen...”

Jeonghan sat up and looked at the woman who his heart now broke for.

Kim had raised him as her own after having a stillbirth only a week before his birth. To her it was meant to be. When the other maids all cowered in fear she stepped up taking the shivering baby in her arms and wrapping him tightly in her sweater. Her body that had been preparing to be a mother fell right into step as she fed and held him close while she worked.

Although that period in her life was hard to look back on, she still felt Jeonghan should know so she held his hand as she spoke.

“Your father would have done anything for your mother. He was crazy for her, but he wasn’t careful. It didn’t take long before one of his many enemies had her. She was young, pregnant, and… so scared. Then one day she was back. She said they got lazy, that she had escaped while they were distracted.’

Kim paused to swallow the lump in her throat.

“You don't have to tell me.” It disturbed Jeonghan to see her struggling.

Kim shook her head and continued.

“She used to always hang around smiling and chatting with the workers but she wouldn't leave her room. One night she called for me and the state she was in scared me half to death. She was all panicky and high on whatever they had given her while she was there. That night she broke down and told me that she gave them information in exchange for her freedom. She loved your father but she didn’t fear him…and that was her downfall. Then I found out that she wasn't the one who called for me. When she wouldn't talk to him, he knew she would talk to me. He killed them and then he…”

Kim couldn't continue, her sobs swallowing her words. Jeonghan could only hold her as heartbroken tears spilled from her eyes.

☾

Waking up you stretched out as you always did, this time your arm knocking into something. Opening your eyes you turned over quickly to find Jeonghan laying in your bed next to you. He stirred before opening his eyes.

“You’re still here?” You asked in surprise.

“Ouch.” Jeonghan chuckled and propped himself on his elbow, looking down at you with a smile.

“No no, I didn’t mean it like that.” You said, sitting up and turning towards him. “It’s just that you’re normally gone by morning.”

He nodded at you but his eyes seemed distant.

“What is it?” You asked scooting closer to him.

“It’s been over a month and yet no one has come asking about you.”

“Wasn't that the point?’ you snipped back, pulling your knees to your chest and burying your head in your arms.

You felt his arm on your shoulder causing warmth to spread through you but you shrugged his hand away. You were starting to feel aggravated with him.

“What are you getting at anyway Jeonghan?”

“Well…if I kept you here forever no one would even care.”

Your eyes welled with tears as you looked at him in horror.

“What the hell is wrong with you!”

Jeonghan instantly noticed the heartbreak in your voice.

“I didn't mean it like that i-”

You stood up now, grabbing the robe that hung beside your bed and covering yourself with it.

He pulled himself to the edge of the bed and grabbed your arm.

Your view of him began to blur and your breathing came quickly. His arms were around you fast, pulling you towards him and holding you tightly.

“I promised to keep you safe.” He whispered to you.

“…This…this isn't living, Jeonghan. I’m going crazy. Trapped here as you come and go. You hardly speak to me. When I wake up, you’re gone and then I'm left here feeling used and …all alone.”

He sat there quietly holding on to you.

Feeling dejected from his lack of response you started to free yourself from his grasp. “Never mind.”

“At 7 years old I’d gotten my first broken bone. Training, my father called it. Preparation. My leg still hurts when it rains.”

You stilled in his arms as you listened.

“He used to make us spar. The winner was whoever was still conscious. Loser was locked in the penalty box without food and water for a few days. He chose the number in pair with your level of failure.”

The way he spoke was so indifferent as if he was simply recounting tales of a grocery store run instead of years of abuse. Turning on his lap so that you were facing him you held his face in your hands.

“Then run away with me. We don't have to live like this.” Your face was inches from his as your lips hovered together. Holding your hand he stroked your knuckles. “We can leave this all behind and never look back.”

You felt Jeonghan’s lips smiling against your cheek where he kissed your hot tears away.

“Don’t be so naive.”

His words cut through you like daggers.

You pulled back, searching his soft eyes for answers that they never gave.

“I told you all of that so you can understand how I was molded. So you can understand that all reality with me in it will never be peaceful.”

“Jeonghan-“ your voice broke.

“Have you ever taken a life before?” He asked so quietly you nearly missed it.

“N-no.”

“You can never understand how silly you sound at this moment.”

Frowning at him you hit his chest. “Don't you patronize me.”

He grabbed your wrist so tightly it hurt a bit.

“Let me go Yoon Jeonghan.”

His gaze lost its softness as it pierced through you, but you didn’t back down.

“You wouldn’t last a day in my world.” He said, his voice bitter and harsh.

Pulling your wrist from his grip you fixed him with your own icy gaze.

You began to move again but this time his hand on your hips secured you against him.

You frowned at him. “I said let me go!”

“Stay.” He said softly. “I need you to stay.”

You felt the fight deflating from you, only exhaustion remained. “I’m suffocating, Jeonghan.”

He rubbed circles into your hips, his voice soft and low. “Without you it's all unbearable.”

How did he know just what to say to you? Your heart was racing and your skin felt clammy and hot.

No! You can’t live like this. This isn't living.

But were you okay with never seeing him again? Never feeling his warmth? Never tasting him?

Holding your face, Jeonghan roughly pulled you closer to him, placing a hot kiss on your lips. He was fiery and addicting. Your answer was clear.

“No.” You whispered, gently pulling away although it pained you. “I won’t be your pet, I can't.”

This time when you went to stand, he didn't hold on, his arms fell to his sides dejected.

Backing away from him slowly you turned around and began picking your clothes off the floor.

“Either you take me home or I find my own way.”

Jeonghan didn’t call out for you or plead. He only nodded before walking out. After a few minutes you heard his car start.

Nothing here was yours so you quickly dressed before leaving.

☾

“Get your ass up!” Jisoo yelled, kicking Jeonghan in his side. We have to go check the shipment today and Father is starting to notice that you haven’t been showing up to meetings.”

Jeonghan groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head. His brother hit him again and ripped the blanket away.

“I’m serious dude. And I still need to vet a new treasurer because the last one was skimming whom I had to handle last night BY MYSELF. I’m tired of covering for your ass.” He walked out screaming “I swear to you Jeonghan I will come back with a taser.” Before shutting the door behind him.

As much as Jeonghan wanted to punch his brother he knew he was right, so he begrudgingly got up and got ready. Walking into the kitchen he stopped short when he saw his father seated at the kitchen table.

“You still follow around Kim like a blind puppy.”

Jeonghan angrily pulled out a chair, sitting down across from his father.

“I live here, remember.” He grumbled as he poured himself a cup of tea. His appetite was gone at the sight of his father.

“Yes, well I expect you in the main house by the end of the week.”

“What! Why?” Jeaonghan was completely caught off guard.

“It’s time you stop lazing around and get to some real work.” With that his father stood and headed out the door showing that his word was final.

Jeonghan slammed his cup down, breaking off the handle and spilling tea on the side of the table.

“Oh my.” Kim said, suddenly in the kitchen and rushing to clean the spill. “And I really liked that set.”

Jeaonghans mood relaxed as he looked at Kim's somber expression.

He knew she had hundreds of teas sets all around this house, all which she called her favorite.

He gently held her hand and she leaned down into a hug.

A quiet sob shook her shoulders.

Jeonghan knew as well that his world would change completely once, he left. Even in Kim’s warm embrace he still felt the weight of his father's expectations on his already heavy soul.

☾

Trying to get back into the swing of life proved to be as difficult as you’d expected. Eventually you got the strength to go and collect your things from work. You realized that it wouldn't be appropriate to ignore any more of your bosses' calls, the final one saying that your things were going to be disposed of if you didn’t come for them, by the end of the week.

There was nothing important there, but you went and got it anyway. You tried to smile and ignore the concerned questions and glances of your ex-coworkers, but they still bothered you. If only they knew how right, they were to worry for you.

You spent the rest of the day outside just roaming around aimlessly. Your house felt so small and lonely. Once the sun had set you forced yourself to go back home.

Walking into your house you placed your box of your things on the counter instantly reaching for the bottle of wine you’d left there this morning. You felt around but when you still couldn’t find it you sighed and turned on the light.

Frozen in terror your brain rushed through all of its possible escape options as your eyes looked to the stranger that was sitting at your dining room table sipping your wine.

“You know I’ve never drank the cheap stuff before, but this really isn't half bad.”

He took another swig before flashing you a charming and all too familiar smile.

“Are you Jeonghan’s brother?” You asked, your hands reaching for your keys. You remembered Jeonghan mentioning his siblings, but you couldn't remember their names.

“Astute.” He said without a genuine smile. “But not smart if you think those keys will do anything other than piss me off.”

The man stood up and walked towards you, stopping before he got too close. “My name is Jisoo. I come in peace.” He showed you his empty hands before putting up two peace signs and waving them at you with a goofy smile.

“I’m here to offer you a job opportunity.”

........

"Okay."

"Seriously?" Jisoo asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

It only took a moment after he had explained what it was that he was offering you before you agreed. you weren't entirely sure why it felt so easy to say yes but you didn't question it at al.

You knew that you were absolutely crazy to say yes to Jisoo. The new treasurer for one of the biggest gangs on this side of the country.

“It will require you to move.” Jisoo said, still a little surprised by how quickly you agreed.

“Sure. no problem.”

Jisoo only shrugged before scribbling his information on a napkin.

“Call me when you’re ready.”

With that he downed the last of the wine, gave you a wink, and walked out of the door leaving you drowning in your thoughts.

☾

You periodically dried your hands on your jeans while clutching onto your duffel bag.

All that you'd packed fit only in one duffle bag. Has your life really been that small?

“You’re a pretty one.” Jisoo said, looking at you instead of the road.

You returned his comment with a frown. “Pardon?”

“You know I didn't really get a good look at you before because your house was all dark and depressing but now, I can see why Jeonghan has been all screwed up.”

Jeonghan hadn’t even so much as tried to contact you since your last interaction. Hearing Jisoo's words made your heart constrict. Was Jeonghan feeling just as shitty as you were?

The Yoon house was more like that of a palace. Now parked, you tilted your head to see the top of the huge building through the car window.

“Beautiful isn’t it.” Jisoo said, stepping out of the car. “You’ll be working in the main house, but your room will be in the servants' quarters…which is this way.” He grabbed your bag from you and walked away leaving you no choice but to follow him.

“Don’t worry, it’s also very nice.”

He was right. Although the servant quarters were significantly smaller than the main house it was still beautiful and grand.

You followed him inside and he led you past the kitchen and into a spacious and elegantly furnished bedroom.

“You’re free to use anything in this house. This is your room. I’ll call you to the main house when you have business to attend. For now, just get settled and comfortable.”

You looked around the room taking in the beautiful layout when a familiar small frame peaked into the room with a warm smile.

“Oh, and this is the head maid-“

“Kim!” You said excitedly. You ran to her and gave her a hug, her arms wrapping around you warm and welcoming like soup for your tired soul.

Even though you only saw her a few times she already felt so familiar, causing a breath of relief to wash over your anxious mind.

“I see you've met already.” Jisoo said but was ignored as you and Kim caught up with each other. “Well since you’re in good hands I’m gonna head out ... .aaand I’m invisible.”

Jisoo shook his head and walked out of the room.

“Oh darling, it's lovely to have you here.” Kim said holding your hands. “Now I can have someone to talk to.”

“Aren’t there other house workers?”

“Oh, there are plenty. But none of them are like you” She winked at you with a smile that you couldn’t help returning. “These workers come and go so often I stopped bothering with anything more than pleasantries. But I have a feeling that you and I darling are going to be great friends.”

It felt nice to know there was someone around that you felt you could trust and rely on.

•••

By now you had been in and out of the house plenty of times as you get acquainted with their records and logbooks that you needed for work. And yet… you still had not run into Jeonghan. Was he avoiding you?

You rolled your eyes as you packed your things and headed back to the servants' quarters. What would you even say if you saw him?

It was late and you had been working all day trying to sort the mess of files Jisoo had dumped on you. The last guy really did a number on them and Jisoo wanted it fixed as quickly as possible. You wondered what happened to the last treasurer but ultimately decided to shake off the thought. ‘Best not to over think.’ You told yourself.

After a long hot shower, you still weren’t in the least bit sleepy. Insomnia was wrapping its cold fingers around you and it was starting to become more and more exhausting. With a sigh you put on your pajamas and made your way to the kitchen to brew yourself some tea.

You brought some files back with you to sort and review while you sat down and sipped on your tea. Preoccupied and completely engrossed in your work, you didn't notice the gentle sound of the door opening and shutting.

“Kim?” A voice softly whispers as a familiar frame creeped into the dim kitchen.

You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Turning around quickly your eyes landed on the slender man that stood before you. Even after months apart your treacherous heart remembered the dance it did just for him.

“Y/n!” Jeonghan looked truly shocked, his eyes wide with confusion.

“What are you doing here?” You asked. “Jisoo said you live in the main house.”

“I was looking for- wait shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

You shrugged. “I live here. I’ve been working as your treasurer for a bit now. Didn’t Jisoo tell you?”

“No… he didn’t.” Jeonghan said a little distractedly. “You shouldn't read in such dim lighting.”

He went and turned on a light that was on the side of a cabinet, filling the room with a bright glow.

“So that’s where that was. I couldn't find it and just gave up.”

“You could've asked someone.”

“Everyone is sleeping.”

You both fell into an awkward silence as you looked everywhere but at each other.

“Uhm…Do you want some tea?” You asked. You smiled timidly and you saw his body relax a bit.

Jeonghan carefully pulled out and sat in the chair right next to you.

You got up, grabbed another cup and poured Jeonghan a cup of tea, placing it in front of him.

In the time it took you he was already flipping through your papers only taking a pause to taste the tea.

“This is good.” He said, taking another sip. “Where’d you buy it?”

“Thank you, I mixed it myself. Please don’t mess with my papers.” You quickly gathered up your papers from where he had moved them in front of him. “I’m trying to sort them and you’re making a mess.”

You reached for the papers in his hand, but he smiled and pulled them out of your reach.

“That’s really mature Jeong- '' as you reached for the paper you slipped and fell into him, his arm wrapping securely around you and holding you close.

With Jeonghan's close proximity all but your beating heart had abandoned you. In a stupor you allowed his warm lips to wrap around yours, tasting as sweet as you remembered them.

You pulled away with hot tears suddenly spilling from your eyes.

“Absolutely not Yoon Jeonghan.” you stood and backed away from him, his face blurring in your eyes.

“Y/N…”

The way his voice called your name was deadly for your health.

“I told you already. I’m not your plaything.”

He stood up now, reaching out for your hand but you swiftly pulled away as you took another step back.

“I hate feeling used. My whole life… never again.”

He walked closer and his darling scent filled your nose. Green tea and cigarettes… and liquor. You hadn’t taken notice before but… had he been drinking?

He reached out again but this time you stayed still, allowing his calloused hands to softly hold your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks and swiping away your tears.

In the next moment you were watching his back as he left you feeling confused and …tired. You cleaned up and went to bed falling asleep as soon as your head touched the pillow.

•••

“Jisoo you piece of shit.”

“Good morning to you too. I'm a little busy right now.”

He gestured to the moaning mound underneath his covers, no doubt his flavor of the week.

“The new treasurer. Jisoo what the fuck?!”

“Oh, so you’ve met her.”’ He placed his hand on the mound, stopping the movement as he looked up at Jeonghan’s angry face. “I thought I told her not to come over without telling me?”

“I ran into her last night when I went to check on Kim.”

“Good god, Father is right, you do follow her around like a puppy.”

“Don’t you ever quote that dick head to me again.” Jeonghan’s voice came low and serious.

“Okay okay calm down. What happened to you? You used to be so chill? Listen, you know Father hates distractions. Don’t give him a reason to think Kim or Y/N are, okay?”

Jeonghan felt true horror at what Jisoo was insinuating. He knew that his brother was right.

Jeonghan leaned against the wall feeling deflated and dizzy with anger.

“How did you find Y/N anyway?”

“Seriously?” Jisoo asked sarcastically. “Super sexy by the way.”

He followed the last sentence with a smirk that was met with Jeonghan’s furious glare.

“Oh relax. You’re no fun anymore.” Jisoo said dismissing Jeonghan’s attitude with the wave of his hand. “Listen Jeonghan, brother to brother, you need to get your shit together before Father does it for you. I can assure you he won't be as careful about it as you. Now get the fuck out of my room.”

Jeonghan left without another word, the moaning starting up again before he closed the door. He knew his brother was right, it was time to pull his head out of the sand.

☾

In a job like Jeonghan’s there was always something that needed to get done. The bigger you are the less people think you notice. Unfortunately for them you don’t grow from the lack of concern, there are eyes everywhere.

As Mr. Yoon got older his lifestyle allowed him more youth than his peers but alas age was catching up on him. That meant the Jeonghan and Jisoo's responsibilities were increasing 10-fold.

In a family like the Yoon's where they didn’t take the easy way out through human and drug trafficking business management was important. Jeonghan's job tonight was dealing with an overzealous CEO of one of their liquor companies who was brave enough to start a slush fund.

Thanks to their new and ever so clever treasurer a lot of those kinds of parasites were coming to the surface.

Jeonghan wished the man had just chosen the easy way but irrational and crazy was always the theme. Father always told them that if someone started a fight it didn't end until one of you was dead. Even though the ass hole had gotten a few good slices in, Jeonghan had been the victor.

Coming home tired and exhausted he just wanted to shower and… see you. Wracking his brain for an excuse to visit the servant quarters he pulled off his bloodied shirt and headed to his room. A light peaked through the cracks of a study room door and Jeonghan figured Jisoo was working late. As he walked closer to check in on his brother when a familiar laugh filled his ears.

Suddenly high alert he crept closer, his back to the wall as he listened in.

“No no, those don’t go over there Jisoo!” Your voice came like honey to his ears. “You’re not helping.” There was that laugh again cutting through Jeonghan more than the tussle earlier that night had.

“Whatever you say Madam. I’ll just sit here and watch you work your magic.” Jisoo’s voice was coated in honey as he laughed along with Y/N.

‘What’s even so funny?’ Jeonghan grumbled quietly to himself. He took a deep breath before opening the door and casually strolling into the room. He saw red when his eye landed on you sitting crossed legged on the table in a tank top and shorts as Jisoo leaned over your shoulder reading the paper in your hands.

Jisoo looked up first, a smile playing on his lips when he spoke. “Well, you look like shit.”

You looked up, your face crumbling with concern the moment your eyes met with Jeonghan’s battered body.

He had a bloody shirt in his hands and fresh cuts on his slim frame, the biggest of which was still bleeding through the bandage that was haphazardly wrapped around it.

“Thanks.” Jeonghan said sarcastically to his brother before throwing the shirt at him and sitting down on the chair near the wall. His hair fell into his face but the shadows draping around him couldn’t hide the bags under his sleepy eyes. Jisoo blocked the shirt, and it fell with a wet thud to the floor.

“Gross! This isn't all your blood, is it?” Jisoo wined, wiping his hands on his pants.

The urge to brush his silky hair aside and hold him to your chest was so all-consuming it made you feel nauseous.

“You could’ve helped me, you know.” Jeonghan continued to his brother, completely ignoring you.

“Serves you right after the shit I did for you.” Jisoo retorted, still wiping his hands in disgust before smiling smugly at Jeonghan. “Besides I knew you could handle it, and I had to keep my new friend company.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder, giving a squeeze and smiling down at you.

“Eww, don’t touch me with those hands!” You laughed and brushed Jisoo's hand away before quickly looking at Jeonghan and catching something flicker across his face that left as quickly as it came.

“Well.” Jeonghan said standing and walking to the door. “Don’t work too hard, I’m going to bed.”

The moment he shut the door behind him you hopped down from the table, giving a good stretch before you began stacking your papers.

“Well, I better go before it gets too late.” You said with a shy smile as you suddenly felt awkward.

“Booo, you guys are boring.” Jisoo leaned against the table, his eyes watching you as you gathered your things. “You know there’s no point ignoring him if you're waiting around for him anyway.”

“What?” You looked up at Jisoo's' bored expression.

“Sleep with me.”

You searched his face for something to tell you he was joking, rolling your eyes in frustration when you found nothing of the sort.

“Both of you are so…so…ugh” You gave up with an exasperated sigh as you finished picking up your things.

“I'm just saying…” Jisoo began with his hands up defensively. “If you don’t want to sleep with me you must still want to sleep with him. So why are you giving each other the cold shoulder?”

“Oh my- good night, Jisoo.” Waving goodbye, you left the room in a huff.

Jisoo was crazy just like his brother. Crazy and annoyingly right. But you didn’t need Jeonghan’s handsome and extremely slutty younger brother to tell you you still wanted Jeonghan.

After a quick shower and a cup of tea you found yourself tossing and turning in bed as you thought about that man who plagued your heart.

Was he okay? Those cuts looked pretty bad. And he was still bleeding. Did he need help?

You groaned in frustration holding your pillow over your head. What even was your life?

Jeonghans shower proved difficult with open wounds. Most of the blood on his body wasn’t his so he couldn't bear another moment longer with it on his skin. Struggling to wash his hair with his sore arms proved drying as completely impossible. Only having the energy to pull on pants he flopped on the floor and leaned his head back, his damp hair leaving a wet spot on his blanket.

Drifting off he figured he had imagined the gentle rapping on his door but when it came again, he got up and took a look.

“Y/N!” He said in disbelief. “How did you find my room?

“Jisoo told me.”

You didn’t wait for him to let you in, pushing past him you hurried through the door in fear of being spotted. You carefully placed the bag of things you brought for him against the wall. “I wanted to see if you needed help.”

He was quiet for a moment, carefully letting the situation flip around in his head before speaking.

“Well…my hair is still pretty wet…”

You nodded and headed straight for his bathroom finding the blow dryer abandoned on his sink counter.

Finding an outlet near his bed you sat down before gesturing for him to come.

He silently sat between your legs with his back leaning against his bed, his head resting on your stomach.

Your thigh was soft and warm against his arm as your fingers delicately combed through his hair as the warm air blew.

Feeling completely relaxed the moment passed too quickly for Jeonghan and he found himself wishing he never replaced his broken dryer that barely worked.

He felt disappointed as you stood but you only picked up the bag you brought with you and pulled out a first aid kit and a canteen.

Walking towards him you placed the canteen on his nightstand and sat down next to him on the floor.

“These don’t look like they need stitches, but I’ll ask Kim to check in the morning. For now, I’ll clean and bandage them, okay.”

All Jeonghan could do was nod as your soft fingers tenderly cared for him. You finished quickly and once again he found himself feeling ridiculous as he wished that he’d taken a few more cuts in the fight.

You sitting so close to him left him feeling incomprehensibly ravenous.

Your body felt a shift in the atmosphere, so you quickly stood up and scurried to the door. You feared your own treacherous desires in his presence.

“There is some porridge in there for you. I can’t promise it’s good, but it is still warm.” With that you grabbed your bag and slipped through the door shutting it silently behind you.

You came and left like a breeze leaving Jeonghan to wonder if maybe he’d imagined it all. But the still warm container of porridge on his nightstand and that sweet scent of you that lingered in the air told him that it had all been true.

Each bite made him more tired than the next, but he forced his eyes open as he finished the savory meal you prepared for him. Feeling peacefully warm he slipped under his covers and fell fast asleep.

You quietly cleaned up the kitchen, apologizing to the workers who were just getting in for the noise before going upstairs to your room and slipping into bed. Flashes of earlier flooded your thoughts but it wasn’t long before you were fast asleep.

☾

The ringing blare of the main house sirens alerted you awake. Quickly jumping from your bed, you ran from your room only to be swept in the crowd of staff that were rushing from the house. Once outside and still in a daze you stopped in your tracks and looked up in terror.

People crashed into you as you watched the huge dark gray bellow of smoke that rose from the main house. An entire wing was engulfed in bright orange flames. Someone knocked into you hard causing you to fall to the ground. The wet earth seeped through your thin nightwear as you watched staff rush to set up the hoses to the water lines. Finally snapping out of your stupor you pulled yourself up and rushed to help.

When the fire was gone, and the commotions died down the silence settled like the embers that lightly fizzled out in the damp grass. The news traveled fast amongst the staff in waves of shock and horror.

Mr. Yoon was dead.

While his sons were away on a mission someone had killed him and set his mansion wing ablaze. Carefully trekking through the rubble a few of his men retrieved his body.

The funeral was private with Yoon DongMin’s place of rest being somewhere only his sons knew.

Every day following the house was quiet and somber as the brothers worked tirelessly in search of the culprit.

Some nights they would walk through the door of the servant quarters with exhaustion slowed steps and blood splattered across their clothing. It wasn't sadness that fueled their restless hours, it was pride and principle.

“It doesn't make sense!” Jisoo yelled, kicking over the chair beside him.

You looked up from the files you were tirelessly pouring over every night to get their business affairs in order after their fathers passing.

Jeonghan ran his hands through his hair in equal frustration. He took another drag from his cigarette, but it didn't calm him.

“How could someone not only sneak into our high security house but also find Fathers room and catch him off guard enough to slit his throat!” Jisoo was pacing now as he spoke.

“Maybe it's someone he knew?” Jeonghan said pensively. “A prostitute? A set up?”

Jisoo shook his head. “He would never let his guard down like that. And also, how would they know the layout enough to shut off both our main and backup cameras.”

“An inside job?” you threw out into the conversation.

“We question everyone with that level of clearance…extensively.'' Jeonghan said, flexing his fingers to soothe the aching of his bruised knuckles.

“We've all got a shareholders meeting in the morning and you guys are beyond exhausted.” You said soothingly. “Let's all get some rest and regroup tomorrow.”

“You're right.” Jisoo mumbled, suddenly aware of his exhaustion.

The boys had been sleeping in the servants' quarters recently for safety measures so Jisoo tiredly trudged to his room and shut the door.

After you were done packing your things away you turned to Jeonghan who hadn't budged from his chair.

“Do you want me to put on some tea?” you whispered with a small smile.

When he didn't respond you got up and turned on the electric kettle. You pushed in your chair and sat down in the one beside him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Without a response Jeonghan leaned over resting his weary head on your shoulder. You hesitated for a moment before gently running your finger through his hair. The kettle clicked off telling you water was boiled but you ignored it.

“Come with me.” You stood up pulling Jeonghan along with you to your room and shutting the door.

You stripped down to your underwear tossing the day's exhausted clothes in your hamper and then encouraged Jeonghan to do the same. He looked at you with curious amusement but still complied.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his small smile giving away his fatigue.

“Just trust me, okay? Let me take care of you. Please?”

Once he was done you pulled him into your bed, laying him down with the push of your hand against his chest.

You laid down next to him, resting your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, giving a squeeze.

To Jeonghan, the feeling of your warm body flush with his had healing properties.

“I think I sort of get how you feel.” Your voice was soft and careful as you spoke. “When I found out my brother died it felt so weird. I hated him so much but…”

“He’s still family.” Jeonghan finished for you.

Jeonghan lifted his head and looked into your face framed by the cool moonlight.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Moving on to his side he propped himself up, gazing down at you with what resembled the twinkle of a galaxy in his eyes. You smiled up at him, your cheeks bashful from his attention. Holding his face, you pulled him towards you until your desperate mouths met in a fever.

His body was hot and heavy on you as he leaned into your embrace, stealing more of your kisses.

Butterflies from his touch sprinkled across your sensitive skin, the velvet of his tongue intoxicatingly potent. Reaching under you he unclipped your bra, pulling it off, throwing it aside, before leaning down and kissing in between your soft mounds right above your heart.

You lost yourself in dizzy lust as his nimble fingers skillfully played with your swollen clit.

“W-wait.” You said, stopping his hand.

His lips vibrated against your nipples as he hummed to question you.

“Let me take care of you.”

You gently pushed at his chest until he laid back on the bed. Sitting up you straddled his hips and looked down at his amused face.

Jeonghan couldn't take his eyes off your alluring physique. The way your perked nipples still wet with his kisses glistened in the moonlight made it hard for him to form any amount of a coherent thought.

He couldn't resist squeezing your tensed thighs while you rubbed your pussy, wet and warm, up and down his painfully hard erection.

Sultry sounds fell from your pretty lips and made his cock twitch with need.

Just as Jeonghan was sure he couldn't take more of your teasing you lifted on your knees and rubbed his tip at your silky entrance. Completely entranced by your touch he fell apart just from watching the way you pulled your lips into your luscious mouth and crimped your eyebrows as your glistening core slowly swallowed him up.

Once you fit as much of him as you could, you stilled and blinked to halt the spinning of your lust hazed mind. The titillating feeling of your hot hungry walls squeezing around him caused his hips to lift into you in search of more.

Steadying yourself with your hands on his chest you worked your hips against him. His soft grunts poured lustrously in your ears filling you with pride as you continued your movements despite the increasing exhaustion of your hips. As the coil tightened in your core you steadied your breathing so you could last longer for him.

You felt Jeonghan's hands squeezing and guiding your hip, one hand slipping down to your clit and sending your mind into a static like fuzz. Your movements slowed but Jeonghan didn't mind taking the lead a bit by lifting his hips and meeting you halfway.

Missing your lips he reached up and pulled you to him, your sweaty skin rubbing together as the new position pushed him into you deliciously. The drink of his lips accompanied with his thrusts filled you with more ecstasy than your body could contain. The rush of your high overloaded your senses, shutting you down and leaving you feeling as if you were floating. You came back to the mumble of your name spilling from Jeonghan's lips as his hot seed filled you, mixing with your juices and slicking between your sticky spent bodies.

His heartbeat like a drum beneath you, his chest rocking you with every breath. Using your remaining strength, you lift yourself up and peppered Jeonghan with lazy kisses on his smiling lips. The fluttering of his feather-like eyelashes was hypnotizing as you watched him fall peacefully asleep.

Smiling to yourself you moved his sweaty hair from his face, holding a kiss in between his tensed brows until they softened.

“Sweet dreams my Hannie.” you whispered into his neck as you snuggled into him and shut your eyes for the night.

☾

You thanked past you for the alarm that woke you two up in time to get ready for the early morning meeting you had to attend. You shower first before waking him up. Instead of getting ready he laid still watching you with a smile as you scurried around and pulled on your clothes in a panic.

“You know it's okay if we're late.” Jeonghan spoke with a teasing lilt to his voice. He was thoroughly enjoying watching the way you wiggled your pants on.

You looked at him, smiling when you saw his signature mischievous head tilt that destroyed your every defense . You closed your eyes for a second to reset your weakening heart.

“I don't think being late is appropriate if you want to show respect and dignity.”

You sat down next to him on the bed to pull your socks on when he reached over and tickled you.

“Loosen up.” Jeonghan said laughing along with you. He sat up, pulling you closer and placing a kiss on your bare shoulder.

You took the chance to tickle him back, but his reflexes were quicker. Grabbing you he fell back on the bed, pulling you atop him.

You stopped his lips between your two fingers as they littered your breast with kisses. You felt him growing hard beneath you and lifted yourself back up with a teasing smirk.

“I'm going to make breakfast.”

Pulling away from his pleading grip you patted him playfully on the chest and stood up walking away with a sexy sway of your hips leaving him to figure out his own issue.

Jisoo raised his eyebrow at you when he heard the sound of the shower from your room's direction instead of Jeonghans. Without a word he poured his coffee, shaking his head and laughing at the blush that now colored your face.

After the meeting you went home first to finish up with the files in their father's office.

When lunchtime rolled around the brothers ate and then went for a little walk before they had to get back to the stuffy offices in their stuffy suits while stuffy people bored them to death.

“No wonder Father was so fucking miserable; this is depressingly painful.” Jeonghan said to his brother as he stretched and rubbed his eyes.

“Jeonghan. I think that old lady’s been following us.” Jisoo grabbed his brother's arm before he could turn around and look. “Let's just keep walking until we get somewhere more private and then we'll confront her.

Jeonghan nodded and they slightly picked up pace only taking small glances to check if the woman was still following them, which she was.

As the crowd thinned out, suspecting she wasn't alone, the brothers prepared themselves for a fight.

But when they turned around a middle aged woman stood there by herself.

She smiled and stepped closer. Instinctively Jeonghan stepped over to block his brother without taking his eyes off the woman's hands that were hidden in the sleeves of her jacket. Jeonghan reached for his gun and Jisoo quickly turned around to make sure no one was behind them.

“I came alone.” she said, her voice soft and low.

The women, although young looking, had long silver hair pulled elegantly into a bun. She wore a sweater dress with a collar that was low enough to reveal a ghastly scar across her neck. Jeonghan couldn't shake the familiar feeling she felt when he looked at her.

“Jeonghan….”

“How do you know my name?” Jeonghan demanded, now pulling out his gun and pointing it at the woman.

He knew never to underestimate an opponent so despite her small frame he was still on guard. She wouldn't get a chance to hurt him or his brother without a bullet through her head.

She put her hands up to show that they were empty.

“Please, I mean know harm. I just want to talk.’

When Jeonghan did not respond she inched closer.

Once she was a few feet away she smiled up at Jeonghan and spoke. “Jeonghan it's me. It's your mother.”

At that moment he saw it. The young face that smiled brightly in the picture he found in his father's draw when he was younger. The face that Kim had shown him when he had begged her to know more about his mother. Now small and thin her eyes still shone the same whimsical way.

Jeonghan could only lower his gun in quiet shock but Jisoo’s words spoke his mind. “No, that's impossible. You're dead.”

She shrugged casually. “Your father should've known best of all the importance of burying your own bodies.”

If it wasn't for his brother's support Jeonghan might have fallen over.

“It was you, wasn't it?” he asked quietly. “You killed him.”

Jisoo looked at his brother in confusion until all the pieces clicked together for him as well.

“That's how the killer knew where to find the cameras, and his room…” Jisoo thought aloud, his voice sounding almost impressed.

“He was so surprised when he saw me.” she bitterly chuckled as she recounted the night. “I'd never seen him look scared before…” she touched the scar on her neck before stepping closer again.

“So what exactly do you want?” Jeonghan asked, he was struggling to hold back the unidentifiable wall of emotions he was feeling.

“Nothing. I only wanted to free you of that monster, it was all I could do for you.”

She reached for Jeonghan's face, and he let her put a gentle hand on his cheek. Looking into his estranged mothers' eyes made tears well in Jeonghans.

“And to tell you that I love you so much.”

Jeonghan reached to wipe away the rivers that spilled from the woman’s shaking eyes, but she timidly backed away.

“Take care.” she whispered.

“Wait!” Jeonghan called out but the woman quickly turned and hurried away.

He started after her, but he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder. He turned to Jisoo to find his brother shaking his head.

Suddenly Jeonghan found himself laughing. Of all the emotions that whirled through him he wasn't sure why laughter was his outlet, but he didn’t fight it. At first Jisoo blinked at him, completely baffled but soon he was joining his brother.

“I think we've lost our minds.” Jisoo said, wiping tears from his eyes as their laughter finally subdued.

“Actually, I feel great.” Jeonghan said, draping his arm over his brother's shoulder and walking back to their car. “Let’s go home Jisoo.”

☾

Tiptoeing down the cold hall with your bare feet and your throw blanket wrapped securely around your barely dressed body you searched for your lover. Poking your head in each room as you passed it you finally rejoiced upon finding him in his study. His body languidly poured over the papers in front of him as he finished up the day's work.

You carefully creeped towards him in hopes to startle him in his focused state, but he looked up at you and smiled.

“You’re not exactly a ninja, love.”

He tilted his head in that adorable way that still owned your heart.

You spun his chair towards you and threw yourself in his lap.

“Come to bed.”

“I will, soon.”

Jeonghan took a deep inhale of your scent as your deliciously warm body straddled his lap. “You smell delicious.” he said playfully biting your shoulder, your giggle filling him with energy as you swatted him away.

“Did you talk to your mom today?”

“Umhm. She went back to Japan last night, so she called me when she landed.”

You could tell he still felt weird talking about her.

“Before I forget, open that draw.” Jeonghan said pointing to the right draw of his desk.

You smiled at him curiously before turning around on his lap and pulling out the draw. Your breath hitched the moment your eyes laid on the open jewelry box that was reviled to you.

“I figured I owed you something proper. These are all custom made just for you.”

Jeonghan reached around you and picked up the beautifully carved wooden box, bringing it closer to you.

Reaching inside you picked up a necklace with a delicate golden chain and a pendent that sparkled. You took the box from his hands and closed it before setting it on his desk and giving him the necklace.

Jeonghan placed a tender kiss on your neck before clasping the necklace around it. Holding your cheeks he gently turned your face to him and left a chaste kiss on your lips.

“Can I stay here while you finish up?” You said with round pleading eyes that he would never resist.

“You have to hold on, I need my hands free so I can work.

“I've got an idea!”

Jeonghan's eyebrow raised at you as you lifted the hem of his tee shirt, ducking under and crawling inside, resting your head on his chest.

The vibration of his laughter was soothing as he wrapped the cover around you, tucking the sides so it wouldn’t fall off.

“You are a very peculiar person.” He said while rubbing your back to still the shaking of your giggling.

His shirt was large and it secured you nicely against him, the warmth of his body and scent completely relaxing you.

“Hey! Don’t tickle me.” He said patting your butt in jest-full scolding.

“Then don't be so ticklish.” You said poking him once more.

“Either you stop, or I toss you out.”

You exaggeratedly gasped. “You wouldn't dare.”

“Try me.” He said, grabbing hold of your waist and lightly beginning to pull.

“Okay okay I won't tickle you.”

You had to wrap your arms tightly around him to stop from slipping as you laughed.

“What’s this?” You asked, your hands brushing against slightly raised skin down by his hip bone.

“Just a tattoo Jisoo wanted to get with me. You can see it later, stop moving.”

“How about you read aloud so you can stay awake, and I can go to sleep?” You request.

The soft hum of his voice vibrating through his chest was absolutely serene causing you to drift into a comfortable sleep.

When you woke up again you were in his bed still cuddling against him, his shirt gone and his arms like a cocoon around you. You struggled to slide from his embrace you as he mumbled protests against your shoulder and pulled you closer.

“Shhhh, I’m just going to pee.”

When you came back for the bathroom he was sprawled out in the bed, the covers no longer covering his torso.

Sitting down next to him you examined his new ink.

“Family….” You read in a whisper.

You delicately traced the thin loopy letters until Jeonghan stirred. Grabbing your hand, he smiled sleepily at you before pulling you against him.

“Jisoo wrote mine and I wrote his. To remind us of what’s important, of why we’re still doing this.”

He paused for a moment, thinking as he rubbed your back. You could feel the gentle thump of his heart… feel the peace in each beat.

“You, Jisoo, Kim… you guys are my family.”

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[gyupinkys]

BOSS YOU AROUND

Mingyu x afab reader

WC: 3.7K

WARNINGS: GUN PLAY, VIOLENCE, THREATS, DUBCON?, KIDNAPPING, throat fucking , unprotected sex, heavy degradation, spanking, swtich mingyu, switch reader, creampie, mingyu says some wild shit towards the end 🤷‍♀️

Mingyu is officially sick and tired of being the muscle man. It's not even his specialty, he's supposed to work with Jihoon and Wonwoo in tech, but alas he’s always called to do the dirty work.  He’s just too fucking nice and he can’t stand to hurt people. He just tells himself it’s what he gets for being 6’2 and built like a brick wall. As he slams the security guard to your building’s head into the wall he’s rethinking his life choices. The guard finally faints and he goes upstairs with Jun to your front door. He rings your doorbell so as to not disturb you too much at this hour. 

“Who is it?” your voice rings out.

“UPS” Mingyu says with a giggle, making Jun laugh along with him.

On the other side of the door you grow suspicious. You’re definitely not getting a package past midnight…

You creep to the door and look out the peephole to be greeted with two men you’ve never seen before.

“Y/N, I know you’re there” the dark haired one taunts making your breath catch.

You back away from the door trying to remain quiet when you hear one of them say “I’m tired of waiting” quickly followed by heavy kicks to your door.

What the fuck is happening? You’re not going to sit here and let two strangers break into your fucking apartment. You turn around and run to your window, trying to leave through the fire escape. As you get your window open your front door flies open and the two men walk inside nonchalantly. Your eyes widen as you duck through the window, running down the flights. You hear heavy boots stomping behind you, but you don’t turn around. You’re on your final flight when your feet leave the ground, being lifted off the floor by the back of your shirt. You kick and scream, trying to get him off you but he wraps a large hand around your throat. 

“Don’t be like that, bunny.” 

You turn to face the man and your eyes widen. Woah. If this is the man kidnapping you you’re going down without a fight. 

“And who are you?” you ask with a seductive twang.

“Are you flirting with me right now?”

“Well, you did sweep me off my feet” you shrug.

He gives you a blank stare before nodding to someone behind you. You feel a sharp prick in your neck making you gasp.

“You asshole you didn’t need to sedate me!” you speak as you begin to feel weak.

“Better safe than sorry.” he smirks.

You muster up the last of your strength to kick him right in the balls watching him crumble as he drops you to the floor and you succumb to the darkness.

~~~~~~~~

“Will you stop looking at me?” Mingyu grits out, throwing his head against the wall.

“In order for you to know I’m looking at you, you have to be looking at me.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Come make me, Daddy.” you smile widely at the man standing across from you.

“I will come there and shoot you in the head if you keep this up.”

“If you were gonna kill me you would've done it already.”

“That's not true, we need something from you.”

“And I need something from you, Mingyu.”

“What?”

“I’d guess it's about eight inches, thick, probably a little veiny.”

He walks up to you and leans over your body tied to a metal chair. “You want my cock, baby?”

“I mean I wouldn't say no.” you smirk.

“You don’t even know me. Are you that much of a slut?”

“For a guy like you? Absolutely.”

He quietly chuckles and backs up, turning and walking straight out the room and leaving you alone again. He’s been doing this the entire time you’ve been here. You couldn't actually tell how long they’ve had you here and to be honest you’re not quite sure why. You’re shocked you’re not freaking out, normally you’d be crying and throwing up but maybe the fact they have not harmed you is making you a little calmer. That and Mingyu who constantly visits you but does nothing but complain to you. You’re starting to think he brought you here so he wouldn't have to pay for a therapist. 

He comes back into the room with a man you’ve never seen before.

“If all your friends are hot, I'll just stay here forever.” you say, mesmerized by the man with the glasses standing next to Mingyu.

“You weren’t joking.” glasses says under his breath, walking back out the door. 

Mingyu walks up to you and unties your binds. “Are you not scared that I'll murder you?” you ask, slightly offended. 

One second you're looking up at him and the next you're trapped against the wall with his hand tightly wrapped around your neck.

“Are you forgetting I fucking kidnapped you?” he spits. “This isn't shits and giggles. You’re not leaving this place alive, so if I were you I’d stop taunting your captor.”

That sends you straight back to earth, You feel like everything hits you at once, your fears and worries from before welling up. Tears gather in your eyes as he begins to drag you through the basement, bringing you up a set of stairs into a large warehouse. He shoves you into a chair but you’re struggling to catch your breath, feeling a panic attack on the way. He’s right, you don’t know him, he kidnapped you, he fucking drugged you. You grip the fabric of your pants, trying to ground yourself as you whimper out of frustration.

You faintly hear someone enter the room but you remain focused on trying not to completely break down right now. 

“Shut that bitch up before I give her something to cry about” someone speaks, making you cry even harder.

Someone softly grabs your chin and tilts your head up. Through teary eyes you see Mingyu squatted in front of you.

“Listen, now is not the time for this. These guys are not as nice as me, they’ll actually hurt you. I need you to put on a brave face for me, ok? Don’t let them think you’re weak.” He wipes your tears from your eyes and smooths your hair. “Just take a deep breath. Pretend like you’re talking to me.” he smiles, making you calm down enough to catch your breath. 

“Mingyu! Enough babying get the fuck out my way.”

You watch him sigh but get up, walking to the back of the room and leaning against the wall.

A tall man approaches you with a condescending smile. “Hello, Y/N.”

“Who are you?” 

“I’ll be asking the questions here.” he says with a harsh tug to your hair. 

“You haven’t asked a question.” 

His eyes widen but he wipes the smirk off your face with a punch straight to your jaw. Holy fucking shit. If he wanted you to stop crying that's definitely not happening now. You let out a sound between a groan and a whimper, dropping your head. He grabs your hair harshly and yanks your head back. 

“Where the fuck is San?”

Your eyes widen. San? 

“I haven’t seen him in like 6 months.”

“If you lie to me again I’ll just kill you.”

“I’m not lying! He left for London 6 months ago, I haven’t seen him since.”

“London? What business does he have in London?”

“I don’t know” you cry, scared he wouldn't like your answer. 

He beckons over one of his henchmen and speaks to them before standing up. 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” he smiles and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

“Jun, kill this bitch.” he says and begins to walk away. Your eyes widen and you stand up to run only to be shoved back down by who you’re assuming to be Jun. You begin to cry more, feeling helpless. You don’t understand what’s going on and all you can do is sit here and fucking cry. 

“Wait.” Mingyu says a bit too loudly to sound natural. He clears his throat, “At least let me have my way with her first, it’ll be a shame to let that pussy go to waste.” 

Your heart stops. As if this can’t get any worse. 

The man looks at him oddly. “Didn’t know you’d be into that but go ahead.” he says and walks out, his entourage following until it's just you and Mingyu. He starts to walk towards you but you scurry towards the door. You attempt to open it, but there's a code on the lock. You don't even hear him approach you until he has you caged in his arms. “Y/N turn around.” 

“Mingyu please don’t.”

“Do you think I’m actually gonna assault you? I know we don’t know eachother but I’d think you would think of me better than that.”

“You said it yourself, I don’t know you.” you whisper. 

“There's cameras in here you need to act scared.” 

“Well I am scared.”

“Jesus christ Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m tryna get you out of here alive.” he whispers. 

He unlocks the door and begins to drag you out of the room, but you pretend to fight back.

He grabs your throat, but doesn’t squeeze. “Stop fucking fighting me.” he growls, flashing you a sheepish smile after. 

What is up with this guy? Is this fucking funny to him?

He drags you up a flight of stairs and outside. 

“Ok, I'm going to pretend to trip and you run to the black range rover by the tree. There's keys in the passenger cup holder.”

“That's a bad place to keep your keys.” 

He gives you a tight smile. “Would you rather I let Jun kill you?”

He has a point. 

“Ok, bye.”

“No thank you kiss?” he pouts. 

“I’ll kick you in the balls again.” 

He puts his hands up in surrender. 

You run to the car and drive away, watching him disappear through the rear view mirror. 

~~~~~

2 months later 

You hear two loud knocks at your door. “UPS”

Your heart stops. You tiptoe to your kitchen cabinet pulling out the gun you bought for moments like this. Two more knocks sound and you hesitantly walk to the door, peaking through your peephole. 

Oh. It is actually a UPS worker. You open your door and sign for your package. You look down your hallway when you see movement and see someone peeking around the corner but quickly pulling back when you look in that direction. 

“Mingyu I know that's you.” you say with a sigh. 

You hear a thud followed by a “Damn it.” 

He walks around the corner with a pout. 

“Why are you here?” 

“What? You didn't want to see me?” he says, sounding offended.

“Mingyu you fucking kidnapped me.” you deadpan.

“Ok but I also saved you so you gotta give me some credit.”

“Ok fine.”

He stands in front of your door and stares at you without speaking. 

“Why are you here?” you sigh. 

“Oh, I came to kidnap you again. They didn't like that I let you go.”

Your eyes widen and you slam the door shut. “C’mon Y/N I’m fucking joking.” you hear through the other side of the door. You take a deep breath, trying to remain calm. You open the door and he invites himself in, taking a seat on your couch. 

“Lovely set up you have here.” 

“Get to the point.” you say a little too hostile for his liking. 

“I don’t know. You were on my mind so I came to see how you were doing.”

You slit your eyes at him. There's no way he thinks this normal. 

“I don’t believe you” 

He looks at you with a pout. “It's true I just wanted to see how you were doing.” he whispers. 

You laugh. This guy isn't real. You walk up to him and ruffle his hair. “Mingyu you’re really not what you seem.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“This big beefy man is just a pouty little princess.”

“That's not true.” he whines.

“Mingyu you’re literally pouting right now.”

He immediately fixes his face and stands up, making you stumble backwards. He catches you by your waist and sets you upright before starting to rant at a pace you couldn't keep up with. 

“Ok,you got me. I’m here because i’m so god damn horny and all I could think about was you saying all this nasty shit about what you wanted to do to me but I didnt wanna come and make you think I was just using you for some quick fuck because I’m not but I guess I am and I know you’re probably traumatized so the last thing on your mind is sex but fucking hell I can’t even cum without thinking of you so I had to come but I don’t know what-”

“Holy shit, Shut up.”

He looks at you with wide eyes but shuts up, sitting back down. 

“Mingyu, tell me what you want from me.”

He groans and mumbles out “I want you to fuck me.”

You laugh. “You’re fucking pathetic. You could get any girl you want yet you're beating your dick to me? The girl you fucking kidnapped? The girl who wants nothing to do with you?” 

He remains silent looking at you with wide eyes. “Mingyu, do you like when people are mean to you? Is that it? You want me to take all my anger out on you? Fuck you until you can’t make a single thought in that pretty little head of yours?”

His breathing picks up, making you smile. “You like this? You like when women degrade you? Who would've thought.”

“Please.”

“Begging already? What do you want me to do to you?”

“Whatever you want I’ll take it all I swear.” he throws his head back on the couch. “You can do whatever you want to me and I’ll be good for you.”

“You promise?” 

“Yes, I promise! I just want to feel you.”

You can’t believe this six foot something bean pole is sitting here begging for you. Your ego is through the roof.

You run a hand down his chest, his breathing picking up. He looks at you with hooded eyes. 

“I like my men quiet and submissive. Can you do that for me? Keep these perfect lips shut?” you say, tracing the outline of his lips. He nods furiously, making you giggle. 

“Oh, Mingyu. What am I going to do with you?”

You straddle him and pull him into a deep kiss, his moans turning you on more. You harshly grind your hips down on him, feeling his hard length. 

“You really like this don’t you?” you whisper in his ear, dragging your hands down the hardness of his body. He’s sculpted like a god, every ridge and curve as toned as the last. He nods, hands flying to your waist to grind you harder onto his length.

“You should've heard what was running through my mind the first time I saw you. I was thinking I’d let you do anything you wanted to me, I would have taken it however you wanted me to, no complaints. You could’ve bent me over my couch and fucked me right then and there and I would’ve got on my knees and thanked you” 

He groans, burying his face into your neck. “Will you fuck me the way I want? Nice and deep? I want it so bad, Gyu.” you whisper.

Before you know it your back hits the couch and he’s hovering above you, trapping your hands above your head. 

“I think you’re forgetting who's in charge here. I came to fuck this tight little pussy not to be bossed around.”

“Yet you let me boss you around so easily.” you smirk.

“It’ll be hard to make orders when you're gagging on my cock.”

“As if.”

He grabs you by your neck and drags you to the nearest wall pressing you against it. 

“If you want me to fuck you like a slut then I’ll fuck you like a slut.”

He shoves you to your knees and traps your body between his and the wall, shoving his pants down enough to pull out his cock and spitting on his length. 

“Open up.”

You look up at him with a defiant look, refusing to listen. “If we have to be like that, so be it.”

He pulls a black gun out of his pocket, pressing it to your temple and cocking it.

“Open your fucking mouth, slut.”

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth.

“That's what I like to see.” he smirks. He rubs his tip on your lips, smearing his precum as if it was lipgloss. You hate to admit it but you’re beyond turned on, his dominance making you clench your legs together tightly. 

“Pretty.” he whispers before slowly sliding his length into your mouth. “Just be a good toy and take it.”

He begins thrusting into your mouth, pressing your head to the wall by your hair so you can do nothing but take it. 

“Fucking hell, your throat is so tight. I should use it all night hmm? Cum as many times as I want and force you to swallow it. I think I’ll just leave you high and dry.”

You groan in annoyance, making him speed up his thrust. “Unh, unh we can’t have that. I want you so cockdrunk you can’t even breathe, let alone think.”

He drives his dick down your throat, moaning at the sound of your gagging and the tears flowing down your cheeks. You can barely take him, his dick just as big as you thought it would be. “Just like that, Baby.” he groans, pushing as deep as he can and holding it until you begin to get light headed. He pulls out and gives you a second to catch your breath. 

“Bend over the couch.”

You stumble up to your feet and walk back to the couch and bend over the arm, bracing yourself for whatever he was coming. He walks behind you and harshly spanks your ass. 

“How wet is this pussy?” he asks and rubs you over your shorts. 

You whine in response, your pride damaged. He slowly drags your pants and panties down, groaning at the sight. 

“Fucking hell. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get this wet. You really enjoy being treated like a fucking whore, don’t you?”

“Fuck you.”

He lets a glob of spit drip from his mouth to your cunt, rubbing it through your folds. 

“You're wet enough for me to slide right in, I’m sure sluts like you aren’t used to getting  any prep right? Always ready to take whatever cock you can get.” 

He slides two fingers into you, thrusting in and out, trying to work you open despite his words. 

“Pussys so tight, baby. I know the perfect way to stretch this shit out.”

You feel something cold and hard press against your clit and run through your folds. No fucking way. 

“This’ll do a nice job,” he whispers. He presses your chest into the couch and slides the tip of the gun into you, watching you stretch open around it. He thrusts it in and out, watching your wetness gather on the base. It’s somehow making you feel good, the fear making you leak down your thighs. 

“Can’t wait to fuck you open on my cock. 

He pulls the gun out and taps his cock on your hole, teasing you. 

“Beg”

“No.”

He digs his gun into your side. “You’re in no position to say no. Do you not want to cum?”

You groan. “Please fuck me, Mingyu.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so.”

The fuck?

“What.”

“Tell me why I should fuck you. You need it don’t you?”

“Yes, I need it-” Before you can finish your sentence he forces the gun down your throat making you freeze. 

“On second thought,  I don't want to hear you.” 

He pushes just his tip, relishing in your warmth. “If you don’t start listening i’ll finish the job, cum in you and then fucking kill you. Is that what you want? The cops to find you with my cum leaking out of you?”

Jesus fucking christ, if he keeps talking you’ll actually cum untouched. You moan around the gun, pushing your hips into him. 

“That's what I like to see.” he groans and slides in completely, quickly picking up a steady pace and pounding you into the couch. 

You whine and groan around the gun, unable to move due to his grip on you. His cock feels heavenly, hitting all the right spots and fitting in you perfectly. This is exactly what you wanted him to do to you the moment you saw him.

He suddenly pulls the gun out and throws it to the floor carelessly. When a loud bang sounds when the gun collides with the wall you both freeze. A bullet hole in your wall is staring at you along with the realization someone is bound to call the police. 

“We got three minutes, tops. Think you can cum by then?” he laughs, resuming his thrusts.

“Fuck yea, don’t stop.”

He lifts your hips and hits deeper, making your toes curl. You swear he’s in your stomach with how deep he’s going, and his whines and moans do nothing but spur you on. 

 “Rub that sweet pussy for me I wanna feel you cum around me.”

You sneak a hand to your clit and rub harsh circles, chasing your high as you hear sirens approaching. With one particularly hard thrust you're gone, creaming around his cock. He takes this as a sign to let go, cumming deep into your spent pussy. 

“Keep it all in there for me, Ok? They're gonna need some evidence when they question you.”

He pulls you in for a kiss as he pulls up his pants. “We should do this again.” he says with a cheeky smirk as loud bangs sound from your door. 

“I’ll think about it.” you smile as he climbs through your fire escape. 

“I’ll see you soon.” he smirks and clubs down, slipping into a black range rover and driving off. 

You rush to open your door, being met by officers with their guns drawn. You decide to give Mingyu a hard time, easily fitting into the role of the distressed woman. 

“He just left through the fire escape.” you say with a dramatic whimper, laughing on the inside about the night Mingyu’s about to have.

[svtdarlingbby]

Only For You- MingyuxReader mafia!au Part 1

pairing: Mingyu x reader; featuring Seventeen and NCT genre: mafia au / gang au warnings: weapons (guns, knives), violence, blood, cursing, kidnapping word count: 2129

"You dumbass, how did you get hit too?" you groaned as you leaned against the hard wall, applying pressure to your left side, trying to ignore the new searing pain in your left arm.

"Shit..." cursed Mingyu as he stumbled into the ground, blood dampening his black dress pants.

It was the middle of the night, and you and Mingyu finally completed the weeks long mission you and your team of mafia had been planning. However, a quite severe miscalculation had been made.

You see, Jun, the spy of the plan assured you that there would likely only be two targets maximum.

"Trust me, I only ever saw these two discuss targeting Seungkwan. I'm pretty sure the others don't know about their plan" affirmed Jun.

However, just when you and Mingyu were about to put an end to the thugs who planned to assassinate the socialite Seungkwan you were hired to protect, you were suddenly met with not two but six unruly men.

You weren't scared by any means; you could fight a group of grown men somewhat efficiently. Plus you had Mingyu on your side. Mingyu didn't really seem like mafia material. He had this demeanor about him that you swore would be helpful if he were a famous celebrity of some sort. He had it all: looks, charisma, humor. However he was not stupid. He used his charms to his advantage, to appear inconspicuous to the untrained eye. Most people would never suspect Mingyu to be a professional assassin in the mafia.

And then there was you. Maybe you were just hardened by the world you were born into, but you knew you weren't like Mingyu. Sure, there was no doubt that you are good looking, beautiful even. But you'd describe yourself as a farce. You hated injustice, yet you were in the mafia. The mafia that mercilessly kills people. Your targets are by no means innocent people, yet there is a part of you that finds the irony of being a source of physical beauty that was wired to be so violent and deadly. And yet, that was your strength, the main reason why Seungcheol saw your potential when he found you killing a man who had harassed a schoolgirl earlier on the bus.

And that's why Jihoon, Seungcheol's right hand man, decided to pair you with Mingyu for this mission. Even if you could not see it, you and Mingyu were perfect for this plan.

The night went as planned, with you pretending to be Seungkwan's disgruntled ex who wanted him gone and Mingyu being your rich fake boyfriend who was willing to pay anything to see his competition gone. Sweet talking your way to the other gang, you and Mingyu eventually led two of them outside the venue. They introduced themselves as Jisung and Chenle. Presumably, these two were the assassins who wanted to negotiate pay and such.

As you walked outside the venue, Mingyu noticed one of the assassins looking at you. He could see the lust in Jisung's eyes, the way his eyes scanned every inch of your body as you moved along. Mingyu felt a pang of jealously. Sure you weren't his real girlfriend but he just couldn't help but feel that this assassin was disrespecting not only you but himself also.

"Let's keep heading toward the back," suggested Mingyu as he placed a hand on the small of your back.

You couldn't help but to subtly shudder at his action. Mingyu was just playing a part, you kept telling yourself. If he's supposed to be your boyfriend in this case, then he's got to act like it too.

The four of you eventually found yourselves in the dark behind the building of the venue. You guys began to negotiate pay but through it all you felt that one sleazy assassin's eyes wander your whole body. And he was very obvious about it. Mingyu once again picked up on this and instinctively drew you closer to him, allowing his larger frame to slightly shield you from Jisung's lustful gaze. Once a price was agreed upon, the plan would soon truly begin.

"Just let me get my checkbook out," said Mingyu as he reached a hand into his pocket.

Just as the assassins were anticipating to get rich, you sneak out from behind Mingyu and pull out your gun and shoot Jisung.

"What the fuck?!" exclaims Jisung as he fell backwards upon impact.

Part of you forgot you were dealing with trained assassins in the case, especially after being ogled at. The other assassin Chenle immediately pulled out his gun and fired it, the bullet grazing your side.

"Shit!" you interject, catching Mingyu's attention as he finishes the guy off effectively shooting him.

"Y/N! Are you hit?" Mingyu asks looking behind him.

"Yeah, but it's okay. It's not as bad as it looks the bullet only grazed me" you explained, taking a deep breath.

Just as you both thought you had finished the job, you were suddenly ambushed from both sides by four other men.

"We knew you two were too good to be true, right Jungwoo?" sneered one of the gang members.

"I see the princess isn't doing so great. Maybe we should let her prince feel some of her pain, right Yuta?" laughed another as he glared at Mingyu.

You and Mingyu huddled against one another, back to back, guns pointed.

"How did the rest come out?" you whispered.

"My guess is the other two might've been wearing a wire" hypothesized Mingyu as you felt him quiver ever so slightly.

The four thugs slowly began to creep toward the two of you making the standoff more concentrated. You felt more nervous by the second.

"Y/N. Run" whispered Mingyu.

"What?" you whispered in confusion.

"You heard me, run. I know you'll have a chance of escaping. You'll be able to tell the guys what happened. Hurry, you're already hurt," he hurriedly explained.

"I can't leave you, we are partners for a reason," you whispered as you stood your ground and leaned closer to him, feeling the blood from your side soak through your clothes and onto him.

"Y/N..." sighed Mingyu, the pain evident in his hushed voice.

"Follow my lead," you whispered as you suddenly dropped to the ground.

"Shit..." you groaned somewhat dramatically. Yes, the area where the bullet grazed you hurt like a bitch but maybe it could help you out of this situation.

"Y/N!" Mingyu exclaimed, seemingly following along.

"Aww, the princess can't handle a gunshot," mocked Jungwoo, "you'd be the perfect little-"

He was cut off when you shot the other thug Yuta next to him, effectively stunning him. Using this to your advantage, you shot one of the guys cornering Mingyu's side.

"Kun!"

Mingyu seemed to understand your distraction, and he pulled the gun on Jungwoo. There was only one guy left who kept his gun aimed and the two of you yet the fear was evident in his composure. You managed to get back onto your feet while still pointing the gun at him. Yet you felt the blood loss beginning to get to you as you stumbled upright.

"Who are you?" asked Mingyu, voice full of authority.

"H-haechan of NCT," said the thug timidly.

"You're not leaving here alive," said Mingyu coldly as he pulled the trigger. The man did the same, yet his gun was aimed at you last second.

You yelped in pain as the bullet made impact with your upper left arm.

"Y/N!" yelled Mingyu as he looked behind him. In this moment of distraction, Jisung from earlier used the last of his strength and jabbed Mingyu in the thigh with his hidden knife before falling to the ground in a heap. As he tried to breathe through the pain, he noticed you make your way closer to the building.

"You dumbass, how did you get hit too?" you groaned as you leaned against the hard wall, applying pressure to your left side, trying to ignore the new searing pain in your left arm.

"Shit..." cursed Mingyu as he stumbled into the ground, blood dampening his black dress pants.

"Mingyu, you're bleeding a lot," you said in horror as you noticed just how much blood Mingyu was losing despite not being shot like yourself.

"Must've hit an artery," he whimpered through the pain, trying to apply pressure to his thigh.

"Oh my god," was all you could say as you practically crawled toward Mingyu, your side and arm searing in pain. But that pain didn't matter in this moment. All you could think of was Mingyu.

"Y/N, forget about me. Use the strength that you have to run. Go alert one of the guys. I'll be okay," he managed to say through the pain as his vision began to blur.

"But, but, I don't wanna leave you!" you were losing your composure as the thought of Mingyu dying in this very moment haunted you.

"You'll save the both of us if you try to get help now! Listen, Y/N. Today was crazy, and to be honest, I don't know if I will actually make it," he hissed through the pain, "But I couldn't stand the thought of those gross assholes even looking at you. You're someone special to me Y/N, and I want to continue protecting you. So please, just go find one of the guys," he pleaded.

"Mingyu," you murmured, cupping his face with your hand as he melted into your embrace the more tired he became. Mingyu looked up at you, his eyes pleading you to stand up and get help. So you did as you were told, stumbling to your feet and trying to move as fast as you could despite your injuries.

You decided to stumble toward the parking lot; your getaway van would probably be there. Even though it was dark, you were hoping and praying one of the boys would see your unbalanced and injured form immediately. And that's when you saw the black van approaching you.

"Thank god, they found me," you sighed in relief as the van pulled up next to you.

The door to the van revealed a very different group of guys instead. And an ominous feeling made a place for itself as a pit in your stomach.

"Get her," said one of the men, who appeared to be the leader.

Before you knew it, you felt two pairs of arms grab you and shove you into their van.

All the while Mingyu continued to fight the urge to pass out, you were the only person on his mind. He couldn't tell how much time had passed, but he suddenly saw Minghao and Seokmin running toward him, bombarding him with questions he couldn't yet process. He felt his fellow gang members lift him off the ground and into the dark van that had shortly pulled up.

"Thank god Y/N found you," he mumbled as he leaned against Minghao.

"What? Y/N isn't here?" said Minghao as he placed Mingyu in a seat and began to address his wound.

Suddenly an overwhelming sense of dread overcame Mingyu. "She's not???" he felt himself begin to panic. Where had you gone?

"Calm down Mingyu, what happened?" said Wonwoo as he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"Y/N- I told her- she's hurt! I told her to find you guys!" rambled Mingyu, his face painted with fear.

"Okay, we'll drive around the vicinity of this building and be on the lookout. Joshua, Hansol, and Soonyoung, look for Y/N inside the building" ordered Seungcheol calmly.

"Mingyu, you need to calm down," said Minghao as he continued to examine Mingyu's wound, "We'll find Y/N, just explain to me how you got hurt and what happened."

Mingyu took a deep breath and explained to the boys what happened. However, it was evident he believed something was severely wrong since he couldn't stop shaking as he recounted the night's events.

Meanwhile, you found yourself in an unfamiliar van clutched by unfamiliar arms as you stared at many unfamiliar men.

"Are you Y/N L/N?" asked the leader.

The pain in your arm and side only grew more severe, but it was pure adrenaline that managed to keep you alert in this situation.

"Answer me," he said, his cold eyes staring into your soul.

"Release me," you simply stated, maintaining eye contact.

"She's a back talker. Johnny?" asked the leader, gesturing to one of the men holding you.

This Johnny guy simply nodded and suddenly you felt a gun pressed to the side of your temple.

"So, are you going to cooperate with us then?" asked the leader, sneering at you.

Hiiii I'm back lol! Wrote something a little out of my comfort zone but its spooky season so hey why not! LMK what you think! I'll try to have part 2 uploaded soon!

[wooahaeruby]

Master List

Will be edited as time goes on, currently working on getting the chapters up on tumblr too

The main group I write for is ☆Seventeen☆ but Ateez is coming!

☆Series☆

One Soul, One Heart

This series will include 12 part series for the members of Seventeen. Note that there are only 12, VerKwan will be a joint story (To You explains why).

List of Seventeen's Soul Bonds

S.Coups/Seungcheol:  All colors in the world got muted and dull Jeonghan:  On the palm of their hand has a counter of how many times they have passed each other. Joshua: Being next to soulmate heals injuries quickly and the injuries that the other gets will leave a scar that appears on the other soulmate’s body Junhui: Both have '5201314' tattooed on them, meaning 'I love you forever' in Chinese text slang Wonwoo: They each have a notebook where they can write back and forth to one another. They can’t give any personal identifiers, but can still communicate things about themselves. Hoshi/Soonyoung: Craves whatever type of food their soulmate is craving (salty food, sweet food, spicy, etc) and a timer Woozi/Jihoon: Countdown timer and the ability to feel soulmate's emotions. DK/Seokmin: Hearing the song the other has stuck in their head. Mingyu: Black and white tattoo that is assumed to bloom with color when he meets his soulmate (Possible change to this) The 8/Minghao: Can hear each other's thoughts in their head/can communicate telepathically. VerKwan: Countdown timers x2 Chan/Dino: Each other's zodiac constellation 'tattooed' on their skin.

☆Finished Works☆

To You

Jihoon/Woozi x Reader

Ao3 Link

Soulmate AU, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn Fluff

Fallin' Flower

I cowrote this with @doahaesunshine

?? X Reader

AO3 Link

Magic AU, Fantasy AU, Trauma, Depression, Manipulation, Angst

☆Works In Progress☆

Blood Stained Hands

Jeonghan x Reader x Joshua (Maybe more? hehe)

Ao3 Link

Mafia AU, Violence, Non-Major Character Death, Mentions of Drugs

Unnamed Seungcheol Soulmate AU

Soulmate AU, Teacher, Single Mom

Unnamed Wonwoo Soulmate AU

Soulmate Au, Streamers/Influencers AU

☆Social Media☆

Twitter: CallistoSVT

[renaiswriting]

Tainted Hearts

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo/Reader/Kim Mingyu

Summary:

Working in a bar hadn't been your plan A; for God's sake, it hadn't even been part of your plan D.

But it hadn't been falling for them either.

Genre: Mafia!Mingyu, Mafia!Wonwoo, Bartender!Reader. Polyamory, Throuple.

Part 1.

Part 2.

Part 3.

Part 4.

Part 5.

Part 6.

Part 7.

Part 8.

Part 9.

Part 10.

(Please keep in mind that the number of chapters or parts might be modified later on as the story continues).

Tainted Hearts moodboard

[ujiuniversefactory]

Wonwooo in "Lalali" MV

I told you that I'm a monster