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peach-jaehyunie · 2 years ago

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Prologue: Get My Pretty Name Outta Your Mouth

Pairing: YN/Multi Genre: Mafia AU, Gangs, Revenge, Knife play as foreplay Warnings: Swearing, Implied sexual content, Violence Rating: 18+ Words: 4.1k Groups: NCT, WAYV, TXT, The Boyz

Character intros: Y/N “With a Twist, Lee Juyeon “Iceman”, Jung Jaehyun “The Tiger’, Choi Yeonjun “Smiley”, Choi Soobin “Lemon”, Jacob Bae “Molotov”, Qian Kun “Grim Reaper”

“You really purr like a cat when you want something,” you offhandedly remark as you go around picking up trinkets, examining them, and putting them back down.

“That’s how I got my name, you know” Jung Jaehyun, “The Tiger”, sits down on his bed loosening his tie. His legs are carelessly spread and his knees are bent almost as if he were crouching because of how low the mattress is to the floor.

You can feel his eyes on you, analyzing your every move through the glass panels that separate his room from where you were exploring his bachelor pad. ‘Cocky fuck, you can see right into his bedroom as soon as you walk in.’ Your skin prickles as the only rooms left unexplored are the bedroom and bathroom, and you take careful steps towards the glass he was still watching you from behind. Jaehyun removes his tie completely, tossing it carelessly towards the foot of his bed as you lean against his dresser. Your eyes meet from across the room and his expression turns somewhat predatory as he begins to unbutton his shirt collar. Hating the way he looks at you, you turn to examine the watches he had laid out on the dresser. Some were sporty and sleek, others were jewel encrusted and they all felt heavy in your hands.

“Aren’t you gonna ask why I brought you here?”

You turn back to face him on the bed, smirking at him; though you had very much been wondering why he wanted to see you in such personal quarters.

“I’ve been waiting for you to tell me,” you don’t miss the way his eyes wander to your leg that shows through the slit in your dress as you take a few steps towards him.

Jaehyun sat forward letting his eyes slowly travel from your leg back up to your face when he spoke his next words:

“I want what you have hidden between your legs.”

You scoff, but your eyes remain cold as steel: the only thing hidden between your legs was a defensive weapon.

“I assure you that there is nothing between my legs that would be of any interest to you.”

“Okay, I’ll bite again,” he says as he stands up and closes the gap between you “How about what you have hidden between your breasts?”

If you were being honest, it was a bit of a surprise tonight when you had been instructed to meet someone from Purgatory and waiting for you at the bar was their best hitman.

“I suppose you think women only have two hiding spots.” you speak in an even, liquid tone as if your voice could bathe Jaehyun’s entire form.

“Not at all; but last time I took a special interest in what was between your thighs.”

Jaehyun had circled you and come up behind to rest his chin on your shoulder. His words made you feel a little warm, and his touch made the contents of your stomach churn in a bad way. Of course your dumb luck would have it that they would send The Tiger out to meet you tonight; just incase you were to trying to pull a slick one on the most powerful mob in town.

“I hope you weren’t expecting some rookie tonight that doesn’t know all the tricks you have in your little bag of goodies.” His breath is hot against your neck, but it makes your innards ice cold.

“I hate to disappoint you,” you say, turning to face him, “But I have no tricks tonight and you’ve wasted your time bringing me here.”

Jaehyun steps in really close to you, his body pressing into yours but you have no intention to step back just yet—even when you can feel the mostly forgotten revolver in his pocket imprinting against you.

“Then where’s the chip, little Twist?”

“Hidden,” you smile at him, taking a little step back “In plain sight.”

Jaehyun’s eyes scan you for a moment, he’s just about had enough of playing tiger and mouse. You want out of his apartment as quickly as possible, so you bring your hand to the beautiful ear cuff encrusted with diamonds that you wear and remove it.

“Hand it over.” He puts his hand out to you, stopping you from where you were just about to place the ear cuff on his bedside table.

Slowly, you stretch your hand out to his; your other hand ready to reach for the blade hidden between your thighs in case he tries anything. You drop it into his outstretched palm, turning to leave—your job is done.

“Not so fast,” that’s what you were afraid of: his boss didn’t just want the chip, he wanted information.

“So that’s why you wanted me to come home with you.”

You don’t look at him, your back is still to Jaehyun and you look straight ahead as you speak.

“Well...we have some fond memories here, too.” He chuckles as you hear him pat the bed.

“I think once was enough—“

“Three times wasn’t it?”

The cocky tone in his voice is unmistakable, you need to get out before you get caught in the intricate web of lies and fantasies he spins.

“I got it in an unmarked envelope, I don’t know who sent it.” You change the subject completely, hoping he forgets the ludicrous ideas about getting you back into his bed.

“I don’t believe you.”

“There was no name—“

“I believe that part,”

“No fingerprints,”

“Understandable,”

“There wasn’t a note or anything, so I really—“

“See, that’s the problem, Twist: my instincts and sources tell me that’s bullshit.”

His sources, see that was the real problem: everyone here ratted on everyone else and the Grim Reaper always found out. His little moles lived in every gutter and vent.

“It just said ‘Use it well’,”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all,” you hoped the slump in your shoulders was imperceptible.

“Well, I guess if that’s all then you can go...I always can find you later if I have any questions.”

Hopefully the little information leaves less of a chance for blood on your hands. You don’t even take one last look at the apartment: hoping you’ll never see it—or its inhabitant—again.

You got in the elevator alone, remarkably calm for someone who had just spent the evening with one of the most dangerous people in the city. Taking out your phone and typing in the password (as fingerprint print codes and face recognition were more lethal in this line of work), you open up your messages app and click on an icon of an angel with the nickname ‘Cobie’.

<<It’s done>> you text him.

<<That took longer than I expected>> he replied just as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

The lobby was empty so you decided to text him back:

<<they sent the tiger>>

You sighed, exiting the lobby your stomach still feeling a little iffy with the gnawing feeling of being watched. You wouldn’t doubt that there were cameras set up to monitor who came and went from his building. Filled taxis passed by not looking for any more passengers. The night air prickled your skin as you waited for an Uber to arrive.

“Where are you going?” the driver asked once you were seated.

You named a busy street off the top of your head, pulling out your phone again as it vibrates in your hand.

“Where are you going?” The voice on the phone asked you before you could even say ‘hello’.

“Location 4,” you lean over to check the GPS on the dash “In about eight minutes.”

The line immediately disconnects; pressing your lips into a thin line, you endure the rest of the ride in silence—the driver seems to sense that you are in no mood to talk. The transition works something like a well oiled machine: effortlessly you step out of your Uber onto the curb of a busy nightlife hub, and just as your Uber is pulling away a dark vehicle with dark windows pulls up and you climb inside.

“Hey, Smiley,”

The yellow-blond-haired man in the driver’s seat grinned as he looked into the rearview mirror. This car ride was even more silent, Smiley kept his eyes on the road or diligently checking the mirrors. You had never known him to take the same route twice, he didn’t need a map he just drove: roundabout ways, shortcuts, handling vehicles through narrow alleys as easily as if he were on a highway. You finally took the other earring out and put it in your clutch as Smiley pulled up in front of a warehouse fitted with garage doors. He maneuvered to one of the entrances, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel before a motor sounded from inside the warehouse and the door began to rise. Within the warehouse was a garage; cars of different sizes and makes each parked in their own bays, a little office was in the corner and light shone through its barred windows.

There was a strange mix of smells when you opened your door to get out once Smiley had pulled into a bay; motor oil, chemical cleaners, and a distinct odour of candles that had just been blown out. Smiley didn’t move from his seat, he had pulled out his phone and was absentmindedly chewing gum as he scrolled. You sat there with the door open for a minute, waiting for him to say something or make a move to get out of the car. Smiley must have become aware that you were waiting on him as he finally put his phone back in his pocket, clearing his throat as he turned to look at you. A little groan escaped your mouth when his bruised eye and split lip finally came into your view. He chuckled at your reaction, but there was no hiding how tender his lip must have felt as he winced.

“I thought you seemed quieter than usual.”

“It stings a bit to talk,” tentatively he brought his fingers up to his split lip “And where my lip ring is it kinda got smashed right into my gums on the bottom.” He pulled his lip down to show you his bloody gum below his front teeth. You shook your head, turning away from him so he didn’t catch your eye roll.

“The other guy looks way better, no doubt,” came a voice and you were suddenly face to face with a young guy who stuck his head through your open door.

Eric was smiling and he offered you a hand as you stepped out of the vehicle.

“I’m a pretty nice guy, I let them off with just a scrape,” Smiley defended as he finally got out of the vehicle and tossed the keys to Eric.

Eric searched through the pockets of his coveralls before pulling out another set of keys and tossing them back to Smiley.

You and Smiley said your good-byes to Eric, walking over to a car parked near the office where framed baseball jerseys hung displaying the name ‘SOHN’.

Smiley’s car smelled sweet, as though Juicy Fruit gum had been marinated into the seats.

“Anything interesting tonight?” He asked as he pulled back out onto the road.

You thought back to the hotel bar where you recognized Jaehyun—that was a story best kept between you and Jacob; especially the part where you went back to The Tiger’s apartment. You kept your expression still, only moving your head to look out the window.

“Tonight was uneventful.” You paused, clenching your thighs together so you could feel the firm outline of the navaja, “But I’m...in the market,” you trailed off.

Yeonjun’s head snapped to look at you, he cleared his throat and you were sure that if it had been light out his eyes would have been visibly sparkling.

Maybe it was earlier than you thought because when Smiley pulled into the Azure Cross Bowling Alley the parking lot was full.

“Busy tonight,” you offhandedly remarked.

“Yeah, um, we’ll go in the side entrance.”

He parked next to a little Mazda sedan, locking his car as you both got out. You followed him towards a metal door on the building, holding up your dress as you stepped around a few large dirty puddles before going inside. There was a faint throb of music to be heard through the walls, and a persistent hum of people talking from the alleys. It smelled like pizza and hamburgers, but you couldn’t hear any noise from the kitchen as you followed him down a hallway only lit with blue backstage lights towards the back of the building. ‘Employees Only’ read the sign on the door, Yeonjun unlocked it and you followed him into a cluttered office that was mostly taken up by a pool table that you couldn’t play pool on because it was covered with boxes of receipts and bank statements. A cluttered bookshelf built into the wall revealed another door; this room was sparse and industrial looking, longer than it was wide.

“I have something that I think you might like,” Smiley energetically walked over to the left side of the room and pulled open a concealed drawer, “I only got it in a couple of days ago and I know you like—“

In his excitement, you were able to walk up close behind him and in the time it took for him to turn around there was a rattle of steel, and the navaja was pressed against his throat. He gulped. Once. His eyes found yours and he gulped a second time. The room was grey but his cheeks were very pink as you glared up at him and pressed the blade into his neck.

Your expression softened, your eyes first and then your mouth followed suit breaking into a kind smile. It was the dull side of the blade.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been wanting to try that all night; it’s more fun to practice on a person.” You close the knife and stow it back between your thighs as quickly as you had taken it out.

“No worries,” Yeonjun looked a bit flustered for half a second, but more than quickly enough his face had returned to his characteristic smirk.

He turned to the polished granite slab in the middle of the room, placing an object wrapped in cloth on the slab. You stepped up to the granite table, unwrapping the swaddled knife. It was a switchblade slightly longer than the one you were carrying, with a narrow engraved handle.

“It’s a switchblade variety of Rampuri; a little ornate but still deadly. I have heard about some gravity versions, but haven’t come across any…” Smiley shrugged and half-sat on the granite table, one leg dangling as the other foot remained firmly planted on the floor.

“May I” your hand hovered over the weapon as you met his eyes, taking this chance to once again survey his face and his thick, bruised but still enticing lips.

His assent was nonverbal, and the Rampuri was soon in your deft fingers where you maneuvered it easily because of the knife’s well-engineered balance, twirling it and retracting the blade and releasing it a few times while pretending to draw it.

“I like it,” you finally state, positioning the blade once more into its closed position “I need a few more throwing stars as well; I...missplaced a few last month.”

He gave you a wry smile at your admission, standing up from the table which he sat upon and opening another concealed and very shallow drawer. Yeonjun always had a great selection of shuriken, and without thinking too much about it you grabbed a blue one that was shaped like a snowflake out of the drawer and turned toward the far side of the room where Smiley had lowered a target. In a matter of seconds the steel found its purchase in the eye of the target; you straightened up, glancing back to where Yeonjun stood quietly near the still open drawer.

“It really never gets less impressive,” he remarked while his eyes remained transfixed on the embedded shuriken.

“I agree; it’s a great party trick.” you quipped with a wink. “I’ll get an assortment of five of them,” you nodded your head towards the drawer.

The lethal party tricks were stowed away when you parted with the blond and bruised weapons dealer; given the amount of crime in the city, you sincerely doubted you were his first or would be his last client of the night. He was one or the larger independent suppliers — you knew that gangs like Purgatory imported all their own — Smiley kept all the little players outfitted. That’s how he usually came to know too much information; his mouth could be just as dangerous as the weapons he peddled.

The bowling alley had turned down to a quiet muffle as you retraced your earlier steps up the hallway to an exit. Muffled singing of a soft-voiced woman permeated through the walls and into crevices, there was no din of victory as though a new strike had been made: it made the hallway feel emptier…and much larger. Quickening your pace, the arches of your feet burned in retaliation against your choice of heels. The adrenaline from earlier had worn off, and now you thought about who might have ratted you out to Purgatory or who might have seen you on the arm of The Tiger going up to his condo: and their spectre was your shadow as you hastened to the door.

“Twist,” The deep voice spoke barely above a whisper as you passed.

Your head spun as he interrupted your thoughts, a tall and lanky figure appeared as though between a fissure in the wall where he had opened another door a crack. Soobin’s tousled black hair fell into his eyes, longer than it had been the last time you saw him, and there were dark half-moons beneath his eyes. Stopping long enough only to check that you were alone in the hallway, you slipped beneath his arm as he opened the door further to allow your entrance.

“Have you heard from Iceman?” he interrogated no sooner than he shut the door.

You were shocked by the question, but didn’t let it show in your countenance. “Of course not, I barely know him.” you offhandedly remarked.

Soobin sighed and his demeanour softened, his face looked more youthful when he pouted and you were hit with a gentle pang when you remembered how young he still seemed to you. He rubbed his eyes and padded over to the organized mess of a desk. Monitors of graphs and numbers sat on every surface with notifications sliding into the the right hand corner of the screen every few seconds, choco pie wrappers and half finished salty snacks littered one side table, while surveillance footage broadcast on the wall 24/7.

“What was on it?”

You knew what he was talking about; the chip, but chose to feign ignorance. “On what?”

“The chip — why did Purgatory want it, and who told them that knew you had it?” His questions made you grit your teeth.

“I only told one person. Maybe it was a set up,” The possibility of the latter made you angry; you didn’t appreciate being made a mockery of, or worse: used as bait.

Soobin hesitated before he carefully phrased the next inquiry, “And do you trust the person you told?”

Your blood ran cold in your veins, and the downy hairs on your body bristled at the implication; if you couldn’t trust him then you couldn’t trust anyone. “With my life.” you declared.

The younger man nodded curtly at your words, he heard the finality in your tone and knew to push no further. Nevertheless, ice churned in your belly as it became more apparent that everyone knew you had either been betrayed or duped, knew that you were on Purgatory’s radar, knew that you had been in the den of an enemy and left unscathed. It was a bad time to be seen as amicable with one of the most dangerous and despised men in town, or to be aiding the most powerful.

“Take this,” he held out a piece of brown paper ripped from a bag, you hesitated before accepting the scrawl denoting a location, time and date. “Burn it once you have it memorized.”

__________________________________

Molotov didn’t speak much on the way home to his apartment; both hands on the steering wheel and eyes on the road, but you could tell that he was smouldering beneath the facade — The Tiger had murdered his former gang member only weeks before.

“Did you get anything out of him?” Jacob eventually asked when you arrived home, and for a moment you felt guilty that you hadn’t pressed Jaehyun for more information; even if you knew well enough that he never would have budged if he didn’t want to.

“I wasn’t in much of a position to bargain.” you stated plainly, dropping your clutch and phone on the counter and heading to the bathroom to take a shower.

“I guess he wouldn’t have said anything in public anyways.” He reasoned when you came out wearing a towel.

Jacob sat in deep contemplation on the aged sofa — for a moment you wondered if he had even been talking to you just a second ago, or if he had been trying to talk himself calmly through his rage and stifled desire for revenge. You hesitated for a moment at the door of the guest room where you kept enough of your belongings to spend a night; should you keep up the lie? Soobin’s expression from earlier flashed through your mind when you had said you trusted the person you confided in with your life; you would have to trust Jacob with this as well — before he found out from someone else.

“We weren’t in public — at least not for very long,” out of the corner of your eye you saw him raise his head, “He took me back to his condo.”

Jacob looked as though he was about to stand up when he heard this.

“Don’t worry,” you interjected, “I already checked if he bugged me or anything like that.”

The figure on the sofa sank back into the cushions, but he was stiff and you recognized his thinking expression.

“Can I— Can I ask if you…slept with him?” He must’ve trusted you less than you thought.

“You can,” your voice was cold and deep, there was warning in it that Jacob surely heard.

“Did you?” his tone was clear, undoubtedly perceiving that he was on thin ice, but still intrinsically needing an answer when he was still in mourning for a friend fallen victim to The Tiger's hand.

“Not this time.”

Only in the wee hours when you eventually heard Jacob retreat to his room did you exit to the balcony and burn the note from Soobin that you had memorized.

_____________________________________________

The sky threatened rain, a heavy gust of wind blew desiccated leaves down the sidewalk as pedestrians pulled their lightweight coats shut against the autumn chill that had crept into the air. You are lost in a small crowd of people waiting for the bus, glancing at every face to see if it belongs to someone you might be better to not run into. A bus pulls up, its wheels squealing to a halt and the tide of people begin to move towards its doors. You move with them but also against; you keep weaving to the back of the line until you are the only person left standing at the curb as you watch the doors close and the bus pull away. It’s just you and one of the last remaining phone booths in the city fifteen feet to your right. People walk by fully engrossed by their own personal conundrums — they don’t notice you, or the tinny ring of the phone.

You pick up on the eighth ring: “Hello?”

It takes a moment for you to recognize the voice, and when it registers you can only wonder why the rogue would contact you. Ji Changmin’s best friend, AWOL assassin, the man who avowed to seek vengeance against The Tiger himself: Iceman.

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