#there's been so much minsik content too

[riversonfire]

hyunsik's mission: hear the words "I love you" from every member 🥰

[khhunniewriting]

The Others (17)

[ Mafia/Gang AU ]  [ Index ]

Simon eyed Jay with speculation. It had been a while now since they got anywhere with their plot against Dok2. By now the rumor of a second young boss from Illionaire had begun circulating. Other groups were questioning the legitimacy of the rumor but none had a reason to believe it was true when Dok2 had been known to be distant and cold to his own wife.

The thought of such a man having another woman was almost unimaginable to most.

Jay Park and AOMG were the only ones who persisted in following the rumors. After all, they had stumbled upon the potential second young boss long before.

“What are we doing here Jay?” They were out in the open making themselves easily visible. Since they were just at the foot of Illionaire’s territory it was safe to assume they were being watched.

The question was rhetorical of course. Jay was taunting Dok2, calling him out by crossing unannounced and standing his ground.

There were easier ways to call Dok2 out.

“I had Sik-k follow them around today.” Jay began telling Simon D all about their day up until the moment Sik-K saw Dok2 and you enter a restaurant on the north side- hence his appearance. “Any minute now... I’m sure they’ll tell him and he’ll come to us.”

“And then what?”

“They went out on a date, there are no visible guards, knowing him he won’t risk Y/N’s safety. He’ll leave her behind somewhere safe and come alone.” Jay smirked after exposing his thoughts to his second in command. “Except there is no safe place.”

\\\

“We have a problem,” The Quiett’s usually steady voice came across uneasy.

“I see...” Joonkyung looked up at you his jaw clenching as he heard what Kylie had done. He wanted nothing more than to deal with her once and for all but before he could curse her name he was given even more to worry about. 

The smile that had been plastered on your face all evening was steadily wearing off as you saw the change in Joonkyung’s mood. You could tell he was holding back. 

“What’s wrong,” you asked after he finally hung up. Your mind immediately went to Leo and Ji-hoon who had been left alone in the mansion. “Are Leo and Ji-hoon-”

“They’re fine,” he assured you the call he received wasn’t about them. “AOMG is in the area.”

“Here?”

“Nearby.” 

He began to move, his silence making it obvious he had no intention of including you. But you weren’t too keen on being left out. You took a hold of his hand and his attention. “Joonkyung... what are you going to do?”

He made it clear that he would be going alone and leaving you behind for safety reasons. There were plenty of ways for Jay Park to request a meeting with him, many procedures were in place to keep the peace between groups. The problem was when groups didn’t intend for peaceful discussion and reverted to provocation. "I’ll have them take you back home.”

Dok2 motioned to the entrance where a few of his guards stood. The one in front nodded confirming to him that they were ready to proceed. 

You were amazed by the speed and efficiency of their gestures. Through small inconspicuous signs, they were able to communicate leaving you out at a loss. The two of you walked hand-in-hand out of the dining hall and to the foyer where the guards greeted you.

Concerned for his safety you hesitated to let go of his hand and follow them. “Are you going to be alright by yourself?”

“I’m not really going alone. I’m the boss, there are plenty of hidden guards following me at all times.”

That would explain why you never saw guards around him the way Zene and Ash followed the boys. Feeling a little less worried you let go of his hand but stepped closer to quickly plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Joonkyung nodded, his lips slightly curving up in a suppressed smile. He didn’t want to show this side of himself to his subordinates but it was inevitable in this case. 

You watched him exit the restaurant through the front entrance where the valet had already brought his car out. You, on the other hand, were escorted out through the back and into the multi-level parking structure. The entire time you walked in silence with a guard at each side and another behind you in silence. The four of you entered the elevator going up to the fourth floor. The three guards stood in front of you this time, forming a wall between you and the elevator doors.

In the silence of the elevator, your mind wandered to Leo. Eager to know if he was okay you looked for your phone within your purse. Just as you were about to unlock the screen the elevator came to a stop so you pushed it back into your pocket deciding to call him once you were in the car.

A loud ding echoed through the silence when the elevator came to a stop at the correct floor. When the doors started sliding open the guards raised their guard at the sight of an armed individual. The guard directly in front of you reached back for the concealed gun he kept on his person. 

You did not see what happened next.

You closed your eyes at the sound of a gun going off.

Another two loud bangs caused your ears to ring. 

When you opened them, the security wall in front of you fell with three loud thuds. Your body seemed to shake for a moment as adrenaline coursed through your veins. Unconsciously your hands moved to your cheeks alerted by an unknown warmth.

You could only blink before growing conscious of the overwhelming presence before you. A man came into view smiling to reveal a diamond-encrusted grill over his teeth. 

Sik-k stepped over the dead bodies to extend his hand to you. He was efficient, all three shots hit their marks, killing the guards mercilessly. Yet, his hand politely asked for yours as if nothing had happened. 

“This way Lady Y/N.”

His command reminded you of the way your hands stilled on your cheeks. Retracting and observing them caused your heart to still. A warm, sticky, red liquid coated your fingertips. Looking down at the bodies at your feet you noticed the same shade of red splattered over your clothes and ends of your hair.

It was blood.

Their blood.

It only took a second glance to recall that this was the man that had attempted to kidnap your son. Enraged, you slapped his hand away.

“You!”

Minsik chuckled, amused by the fact that you weren’t scared or begging for your life. “Still have it in you to fight back I see...”

Your eyes left him to glance at the gun one of the guards had managed to draw but not use. 

“I can shoot you before you even pick that up.”

Not willing to find out whether it was true or not, you gave up on the idea and steeled your nerves to give as defiant a look you could. You needed to remain calm even if it was all a farce. 

It was obvious he had no intention of killing you. He could have done so already. The only other thing that came to mind was leverage- using you to get to Joonkyung.

“What do you want?”

Sik-k’s smirk was replaced by a genuine smile amused by your indignant tone. The closer he looked the easier it was to see why the boss had asked him to treat you with as little force as possible. He had seen his fair share of beautiful women so he wasn’t easily taken by you or anything like that. But he had to admit the defiance in your eyes was doing something to him.

It awoke an urge inside him to break it.

He knew Jay intended to placate him ever since he was demoted. The only reason they did not let him go was because he was an asset and a danger to them. Sik-k knew too much. Now that he was no longer content with his position in H1ghr he saw an opportunity in you. Betraying Jay and keeping the person he had grown interested in seemed fun. But possibly better still was the possibility of cashing in on that bounty he had gotten word of moments ago. 

At this point you were a blank check to him if he went to Dok2 with a proposition of his own.

What to do?

What DID he want to do?

“I haven’t decided yet.”

\\\

At the arcade, Ji-hoon and Leo took hold of the plastic guns that were wired up to the game in front of them. Leo took the red while Ji-hoon held the blue like a pro, making it obvious he had frequented the game.

“This one’s simple, just aim and fire.”

Leo nodded figuring that much out on his own but going along with Ji-hoon’s instruction.

Zene and Ash stood on either side of the game. Thanks to their youthful appearances it was possible for them to stick close to the young bosses. At arcades, it was natural for groups of friends to gather in this way. 

Seeing their stances, Zene couldn’t help but point out the flaws. “Young boss you have to straighten your back.”

Leo immediately did so, even allowing Zene to position his hands and shoulders correctly to the point where he looked ready to shoot a real gun.

With seconds left before the game started Ji-hoon groaned as Zene tried to correct him as well. “It’s just a game, it doesn’t matter how you stand.”

Start.

Right away Leo began shooting the targets that popped out on the screen, never missing one and never needing more than a couple shots. He aimed directly at the head not because the game specified but because he had seen enough movies to know what would be the sure-shot. When he missed he would try again.

“Wha-!” Ji-hoon’s eyes doubled in size as he heard a chorus of “perfect” coming from his brother’s side. The game’s semi-robotic voice would always announce the quality of the kill making him unable to concentrate on his own.

Halfway through he decided to give Zene’s pointers a try and began seeing instant results. By then it was too late. The game came to an end with Leo as the victor.

“That’s bull-” Ji-hoon was ready to protest until he turned to see Leo smiling. LEO... his I’m to cool and mature to express my emotions openly...his one and only younger brother was actually smiling like a little kid.

Even Ash and Zene were unable to stop staring.

“What’s next?” Leo eagerly awaited Ji-hoon’s response relying on him to show him which of the many flashy games was worth playing.

“Leo did you just-” Ji-hoon grinned. There was still a hint of that smile curving the ends of Leo’s lips and a gleam in his eyes that finally had him looking like any other teenager. He was sure if he pointed it out Leo would just revert back to his icy disposition so Ji-hoon chose to keep quiet. “You should try racing games.”

Ji-hoon led the way to his favorite of the type. He sat down motioning for Leo to sit in the machine next to his. “Have you ever driven stick before?”

Leo shook his head.

“Wait, have you driven at all?”

Legally neither was able to drive yet but Ji-hoon had already been taught by his father. It was something Joonkyung came to regret as Ji-hoon soon began to sneak off with one of his cars. 

“No.”

“Then let’s stick with automatic, you can forget about the clutch.” 

Everything Ji-hoon said went in one ear and out the other. Leo had absolutely no experience with cars since he’s used public transportation his entire life up until his father showed up. 

Catching the blank stare Ji-hoon realized Leo knew nothing at all. “Do you even know which is the gas and which is the brake?”

Leo looked down at the pedals at his feet before very mater of factly responding that he had no idea.

“Oh, man...” Ji-hoon’s chin rose as he was presented with the opportunity to act like the older brother that he was. He could never hope to surpass Leo on any school subjects or beat him in basketball. This was his chance to show him there were things he could teach him, that there was something he could rely on him for. “Let your older brother teach you.”

Across, the once occupied machines were now empty allowing Zene and Ash to join them. 

And after Leo’s quick lesson the four of them raced against each other.

They were all so into the game that Ji-hoon ignored the ringing of his cellphone. He was in high spirits, laughing at Leo’s misfortune every time he crashed into one thing or another.

But...

“What the-” Ji-hoon eyed Leo through the corner of his eye. It was impossible how quickly he had adapted from one round to another. After winning once Ji-hoon thought he would surely keep winning so why was he staring at the back of Leo’s car.

Leo couldn’t help but smirk as his screen flashed the first place title.

Ji-hoon didn’t have it in him to be upset when Leo was so obviously happy. It was strange how eager he was to see his younger brother laugh and smile. 

Their fun was interrupted when Ji-hoon’s phone went off. He quickly answered seeing the familiar name pop up. “Auntie!”

Luna would have relished the voice of her cute nephew greeting her enthusiastically if it weren’t for the situation. But for now she had to get to the point. “Ji-hoon you need to listen to me.” She could tell from the background noise that he was out. “Get home,  now! I’m on my way there to explain the situation.”

Ji-hoon immediately gave Zene and Ash the signal to leave. They sprung into action Ash walking ahead while Zene urged a confused Leo to follow. 

Leo didn’t say anything but worry settled in so clearly on his face that Ji-hoon immediately assured him everything would be okay after he hung up the phone. 

“I’m sure he won’t let anything happen to her.”

-end-

A/N: I’m BAAAACK!!!!!!! I had to stop it there for dramatic effect. I know some of you might not be satisfied with this short update so I’ll try to get that next part out soon to complete the feel and move the story forward.

(I was too excited to proofread so some mistakes may be included)

[ace-angel-judas]

Part V: Kiss and Skip 

Pairing: Minsik/Lyla

Genres: Established Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining.

Synopsis: Being the manager to a playboy rapper had just been Lyla’s everyday life, yet being in love with the cat loving dork behind the playboy rapper facade was a more challenging occupation.

For a party, things were plain in Minsik’s opinion. This was more of a gathering, with a bunch of normal people giving gifts to the happy couple. Lyla had a smile on her face for nearly the whole night as she accepted gifts and congratulations from the people invited. 

He’d spoken to a few of the people around, majority of them asking what he did before slithering away. No one here seemed like fun, but his eyes were on Lyla for the whole night anyway. She usually wore sweaters and jeans with little flats, just to keep comfortable. 

Yet a black dress complimented her body tonight, her curves on display for everyone. Minsik hadn’t noticed how many drinks he’d had until deciding it was time to leave, stumbling out of the venue. 

Lyla frowned when she noticed him gone, going after her best friend and work mate. Minsik was fumbling with his phone, whining to himself as the numbers kept shifting in his view. 

“Minsik!” Lyla caught up to him, “Hey, are you leaving already?” 

“Yeah,” He slurred, almost falling down. 

“Let me call the cab, you’ve had a few too many drinks,” She smiled at him, noticing the redness in his cheeks. 

A pout sat on his face as Lyla held his arm, helping to keep him up right. Even at her own party, Lyla was baby sitting him and making sure Minsik was okay. He just didn’t like it. 

“Wait,” Minsik turned towards her, trying to keep himself up right, “Just wait,” 

“Are you going to be sick?” Lyla worried. 

“If I have to keep looking at your boyfriend’s smug ass face, maybe,” He blurted out, his usual filter completely gone. 

Taking a deep breath, Lyla spoke, “Minsik-” 

“What’s he got that you love?” He asked, “He’s boring and smells like paper, he reads the paper, who the fuck still reads the paper at our age?” 

Lyla decided to stay quiet. 

“What about me?” Minsik asked, “I’m fun, You actually laugh when your with me and your smile reaches your eyes, so what does he have that I don’t?” 

“Minsik, I don’t think you understand,” Lyla held his shoulders as he went quiet, “Your my best friend but there’s a clause in our contract that if things go any further than friendship or business, the contract gets terminated,” 

Nothing was going into his head, Minsik simply leaned forward and pressed his lips to Lyla’s. She didn’t do anything for a moment, except keep her eyes open. Eventually Minsik pulled away, frowning. 

“You can’t even kiss me back,” He whispered. 

“Your drunk,” She stroked his cheek, “Drunk confessions don’t mean anything Minsik, let’s get you home,” 

Yamma was stretched out on the bed, making Lyla smile as she snapped a quick shot of the feline. She purred in content, her eyes half lidded as Lyla sat on the bed with her. 

Hyungmin entered the room, already dressed in his pajamas and stopping at the sight of the cat. He wasn’t pleased at all with the cat longuing on the bed or even being in the apartment and this was the last straw. 

“It’s not sleeping on the bed, Lyla,” Her boyfriend commanded. 

“Stop calling Yamma ‘it!” Lyla finally snapped back. 

He rolled his eyes, “I never wanted the thing here-” 

“I never ask for anything!” She stood up, “You can’t respect that I’m looking after a friend’s cat yet I have to deal with you coming home at random hours without telling me and bringing your stupid friends!” 

“Don’t call them stupid!” Hyungmin growled. 

“Yamma is important to me, just like Minsik is!” 

“If you like the cat and Minsik so much, why not marry him?!” 

It was the final straw, Lyla turned and grabbed a bag from the closet and shoved some clothes in it before picking up the cat. Hyungmin rolled his eyes. 

“And where will you go?” Hyungmin asked, “Your family lives three hours away,” 

“Minsik’s apartment,” Lyla snapped. 

Nothing was said as she walked out of the room. 

[imaushuyuna]

Cuddle me? Sik-k [fluff]

A/N: Since I've been gone for way too long. Came from me listening to sappy love songs and trying to do homework. sorry if it sucks.

✔sik-k just want you to hold him

✔softboi! sik-k, fluff

You were laying in bed with your boyfriend of 3 years Kwon Minsik also known as the infamous Sik-k. You were scrolling through social media on your phone and minsik was laying with you, cuddling you when you felt minsik shift behind you slightly.

“Hey y/n; as much as I love cuddling you and making you feel comfortable and shit, I was thinking- thinking maybe... you could cuddle me?”, he said, more like a question,

You looked at him for a second.

“nevermind, just forget I said anything”, he buried his head in your shoulder. No. No, of course, i'll cuddle you. Why wouldn't I?” you laughed at his worry to ask you such a simple question.

“Really?”, his face lit up.

“yes now roll over you big teddy bear.” you laughed at him.

“Okay, Okay”, he quickly rolled onto his other side and so you did spooning him. You quickly buried your face in his shoulder this time, tightly wrapping one arm around his waist and having him lay his head on your other arm.

“ I like this...” he said contently,” “so do I...,” you sighed before drifting into a state of complete serenity.

[cwkrp]

have a little imagination, will you?

INTRODUCING   son minsik, he/him, 12/04/97 COURSING   ba in applied cinema, third year AFFILIATION   crux ANNOTATIONS   n/a

a note from the past.

TOKEN.

He always remembers it a bit differently, always slightly altered, something he blames on the years of revising his childhood during therapy sessions. It’s always either too hot or too cold, moral ground shifting. His mother says that all that is tangible is indirectly a threat. A knife protruding from his back is only a problem if he bleeds all over the place. The thing about misplacing truths is that he doesn’t know if it will unfurl like the long lines of yawn his mother winds through her knitting needle gauge. He can’t measure the scale of trauma stretching across decades of syrupy boyhood. Doesn’t even know if its an accurate inner image.

It is just, if anything, a color coded concept for the convenience of the set dressers.

One thing he knows is that his father never quite contented with his lack of an independent shape. So he had him stripped of agency, showcasing family tree anxieties in the form of rigorous method acting.

There are several unimportant things to note about Son Minsik’s filmography: it’s a short list, with a total of three entries, one of which is a glorified cameo; It’s genre consistent, with all of his projects having been leaning toward neorealism, with heavy grainy overlays and desaturated colors; And all of them have him die increasingly gruesome deaths.

(Sometimes, and he wonders if it’s the root of the problem, he can’t picture himself alive.)

His father becomes notorious for treating his actors horribly. Especially his son, who plays the main antagonist in a well received trilogy. Which relies more on surrealist themes than qualitative storytelling. But nothing can quite compare to the influx of strongly worded accusations that overwhelm his studio, when a crew member gets laid off and collects their next paycheck from tabloids. ‘Child abuse’ is featured in tacky newspaper headlines that are often difficult to distance from the body of works that feature explicit death scenes with a child front center.

[ DIRECTOR SON CHUL JANG (39) ALLEGEDLY MISTREATING SON AND CHILD ACTOR SON MINSIK (8), STAFF MEMBER CLAIMS ]

He doesn’t remember the press conference, or the microphones being shoved in his face. But he remembers clearly, almost vividly the way his father had trashed their living room, and then turned to him and said that it was somehow his fault. He should just drop dead. He doesn’t compare to all the dead little Minsiks before him who didn’t make it out of his mother’s womb alive. He can’t do anything right.

He shouldn’t be alive.

Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t be.

GROWTH.

In a way, it’s always going to be 2003.

There’s some narrative quality to the way he keeps to artificial constraints, not exactly there, yet exhausting like connecting xanax induced conflicts. He composes a list, because that’s what he always does. Things he wants his audience to know. Things he doesn’t want his audience to know. Things that aren’t important.

He’s unsure where to take it, where to house information.

He shoots short movies that star nothing but landscapes, water, flowers, useless cinematography that holds no spiritual weight. Hair clogging the shower drain likes clumps of memory that he has no use for, accompanied by a heavy bass intro that he mixes together on a shitty DAW.

No one watches movies lacking substance. No one watches boring flicks.

There’s this never ending cycle he’s forced into, that has him trying to catch up to his father, and to a lesser extent his mother. Maybe it’s a form of a misguided, overt cry for attention. Every second counted by 120 frames is just him trying to fill the frame with confessions. Gestures. Every open window is skin being pulled. 34 mm of focal length up close and personal. His father doesn’t trust him. That’s why he’s spent more of his childhood in boarding schools than at home, fed psychotropics throughout to keep him comfortably numb. Always barely hanging on, sedated to the point of passivity.

Sometimes he films himself talking until his throat caves in.

It boils down to this: An onslaught of expectations that eats at his consciousness. He’s trying so desperately to be like his father. Long Takes for everything, close ups on nothing, scenes in nonsequential order so he doesn’t have to make sense of it.

He’s not making sense.

In a way, he’s still eight, nine, sobbing uncontrollably in front of a camera, holding up bloodied palms and confessing to fictional crimes he is unable to separate from his person.

Maybe one day he’ll grow out of it.

a color for the present.

GREEN.

As most things are, love, in a household with a net worth of over $700 million, is seen as a commodity. His mother equates time to affection, and limits what she gives away of herself. A succession of vaguely whimsical moments in terms of front-page photos on a tabloid. Barely enough to not seem like a negligent mother, but not enough to make a significant impact as a supposedly nurturing figure. She has her publishing house to care for, social events to attend, friendships to maintain. A son, as much as he’d been wanted after two miscarriages, wasn’t supposed to be more than an afterthought.

It’s an attitude that translates over to the way she treats his interests. A dismissive nod, a belittling pat on the head, an expensive suit he gets to wear to a gala. She prefers to flaunt his achievements rather than acknowledging him as a her son. He’s an award winning actor (it doesn’t matter than he hasn’t been able to stand in front of a camera without going hysterical since the early 2000s), he’s a talented director (even if his short films are tedious to watch at best and pretentious at worst), he’s attending seoho! (and has managed to assault school staff in a fit of misplaced anger).

In the corny sitcoms he loves, mothers are always warm, pliant, caring. A suicide attempt earns a sympathetic response. A rebellious outburst earns an attempt to understand, reconciling childish whims. Mothers cry, coo, coddle. Mothers defend their children. Mothers accept and embrace the good with the bad.

His mother can’t. But he can’t be the perfect son, either.

BLUE.

“I want you to know that you can be honest with me, okay?” The social worker is nice, with evenly applied make up and shiny hair. His father is always making him buzz his head, offering no real explanation as for why. His mother standing behind him has a steady grip on his shoulders, nails pressing carefully down on his sweater. “I am here to ask you some questions. There’s no need to feel nervous or scared.” He’d tell her that he doesn’t really know what fear is supposed to feel like, but the even weight of his mother is making him feel self-conscious, so he nods instead.

“Last week, one of your father’s colleagues– I’m sure you know him, Kang Duri– has accused your father of mistreating you.” His mother’s fingers furl into his sweater and he can feel his collar growing snug. “He told us that your father often hurt you during filming. Is that true?”

His mother’s hands grow closer to his neck and go slack when she speaks up, “Those are frankly ludicrous accusations. My husband has always been a loving father to my son.” She made him wear a thick sweater in mid July because he’s covered in bruises. She sounds whiny, nasal. Maybe she’s having a panic attack. He knows about those.

The social worker looks apologetic, “I understand that this might be very difficult for you, ma’am. But there’s evidence to back these allegations up, which is why I’m here.” She’s so polite, sitting on one of his mother’s hideous kitschy loveseats, foundation blended down to her neck.

“Minsik, tell her that your father’s never done anything to you.” He can’t see his mother, but he can imagine what her face looks like. A ghostly paleness contrasting her black designer one piece. If anything, it’s always been about her. His whole life. Even at eight, sitting opposite someone who might actually be able to help.

But his mother would be sad. And he wants so much to please her.

“My father is a good father.” It’s not exactly the truth, but it’s an inoffensive statement.

When the social worker’s gone he’s left to himself, trying to ignore the sweat accumulating under his sweater, hands wet and sticky. He guesses, if he were to put a name to the uncomfortable, heavy feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, it’d be disappointment.

Now, almost thirteen years later, he wishes he’d said the truth.