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sungbeam · 5 days ago

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OKAY FINALLY GETTING BACK TO U ON THIS YUMI BUT THANK U SOO SO MUCH FOR READING (i say for the 1928th time but i do really really mean it :'))) AND FOR UR SUPPORT THE WHOLE WAY THRU

u truly r just one of my greatest supporters and also ROLE MODELS?? like i'm so beyond happy that u enjoyed birds of prey and believed in it and me :'))) i'm always so jazzed to hear ur thoughts/opinions on something, and this series was certainly no different

ALSO just all the gd praise (´Д⊂ヽ like u will make me tear up im so thrilled :,))) and ur comment abt being able to write a mafia au side by side with someone KSNFKEJF UR SO RIGHT!! UR SOOO RIGHT like being able to crash out w each other over our shared experiences was honestly so motivating and encouraging, even if that's unintuitive LMAO 💀😭 truly, u r THE reason birds of prey exists completed and posted today

LMAO DKFNDKNFJD i don't know how i will top this, but we never know what the future might hold heh also just the way u appreciate some of the finer details of this fic makes me soooooo 🤧🤧🤧 i love u so bad,, like u get me

last note before i sign off, but just this long message that u wrote at the end of my journey here, like i was so floored (´Д⊂ヽ thank u again and again !!! 💖🫂

BIRDS OF PREY — nineteen

nonidol!kim hongjoong x f!reader

living in gray areas of your city, out of the way of gangs and mafia territories, could only keep you safe for so long. it was only a matter of time before you began running into problems, or rather, problems began running into you.

▷ genre, warnings. nc-17, strangers 2 lovers, slow burn, mafia au, angst; swearing, violence, drinking, mentions of bombs and explosions, mentions of death and dead bodies, injuries, being held captive, mentions of weaponry, kissing, this might be THE most frustrating game of will-they-won't-they ever .

▷ word count. 9.5k (i didn't actually think it would end up this close to 10k 💀)

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a/n: this kind of feels bittersweet :')

CHAPTER NINETEEN: A PIRATE'S LIFE FOR ME

THE STORM BIRD, koel, or petrel was thought to presage the coming of a bad storm, such that its appearance in a certain region should serve as a warning to its inhabitants of the horror and destruction to come.

If you were the storm bird to Hongjoong's storm, then one might say that wherever you went, he was bound to follow.

For the first time in the past several hours, Hongjoong's mind was quiet. The sound of your screaming from the audio file had cleared out; the schemes in his head came to a halt—all that remained was the road ahead through the windshield and Lee Kyungmin's portrait projected in his mind's eye.

He couldn't wait to put a fucking bullet between his eyes.

Yunho helmed the car he sat in as they sped through the streets of Hala Town toward the eastern side. Wooyoung's coordinates directed them to a grouping of small apartments owned by Lioncrest that, according to property bills, hadn't been occupied in years—up until the last six months. There were no indicators as to which apartment it was, but if Hongjoong was anything, he was determined.

There were also records through GPS tracking that told them you had been near this area before, weeks ago, when you had followed those Lioncrest Society gang members from the station toward Hala Town. The Laundromat Jongho had raided to find the scraps of train station schematics was nearby, too. It all revolved around this area, five blocks south of Paradigm.

Wooyoung's voice cut through over the car speakers. “Sakura's apartment is several blocks from here. I asked her to monitor through the CCTV cameras.”

“There really wasn't anything she saw before all of this?” San asked from the back seat, before leaning forward to poke his head between Yunho and Hongjoong.

“She didn't know what Kyungmin looked like or that he existed,” he said in her defense. “How could she pick out one snake from an entire den of them?”

There wasn't much room for argument there. No one in this car, in the family, knew that Lee Yunseok had an offspring; there was no way to look for something you didn't know was real. Hongjoong jammed his tongue into his cheek. He had been bracing himself for some kind of issue to crop up within the first couple years of his reign, but he hadn't expected something like this.

Three years… and it could have all come crumbling down.

They said hindsight was 20/20, but truly, when he looked back at the past, the only person he could have had a chance at predicting was Jung Joonseo.

And then there was you. You and Kyungmin were two factors he never saw coming.

Yunho swerved into a spot along the curb across from the first block of target apartments. Other cars pulled up alongside him, ferrying the other commanders in the Captain's inner circle, as well as a great many of their men prepared to storm the area.

Hongjoong slammed his door shut, cane swinging along the asphalt. A weak winter sun pierced through the sheets of clouds across the sky, illuminating his stride across the road. His breaths shoved out in visible puffs before his face, canines gritted together in his mouth. Here were a smattering of several, short apartments—desolate and unassuming—unused telephone wires strung haphazardly from their poles across the landscape. And in one of these shitholes was where you were being kept.

“Start canvassing the area,” Hongjoong began. “If anyone comes in or out of this place who's not our own, I wanna know.”

“Aye, Captain.” Yunho and San broke off to distribute orders to their people.

Hongjoong could hear footsteps following swiftly after him. In his periphery, Seonghwa and Jongho instructed men to start taking buildings in groups. Level by level, they would knock doors down and ensure that no one would get past them without them knowing.

Heads raised as another car came careening down from the end of the block, skidding to a halt by Yunho's SUV. Wooyoung's sedan was a recognized sight to see, and the last commander clambered out of the vehicle to make his way toward Hongjoong. There was a rifle strapped to his back and a pistol in his hands, a fresh magazine being shoved into place.

“You're not supposed to be here,” said Hongjoong.

There was a resolve there on Wooyoung's face that he couldn't ignore, a telltale crease between his brows and a firmness in the line his mouth made. “I wasn't just gonna sit still, Captain. You know I can't, and I won't.”

Defiance was something Hongjoong saw with Wooyoung more often than not, but this time, it was different.

“I never said I was gonna make you go back or sit still,” Hongjoong replied, turning back toward the apartments. There was a part of him that feared this wasn't the right place. It wasn't that he doubted Wooyoung's skills; it was more so he doubted that Kyungmin would only pick one place. He'd seen before how many places the new Strictland had occupied. How could they be so sure that they weren't wasting their time?

Wooyoung lingered by his side, shifting from foot to foot. “What is it?” he asked, sensing the hesitation in the air.

Even as soldiers were about to tear these buildings apart, Hongjoong continued to linger upon the precipice.

Seonghwa walked up to stand at Hongjoong's other side. “They've started, Captain,” he reported quietly. “Do you want to pick an apartment? We'll follow you.”

Hongjoong watched and headed doors being torn down, shouts erupting and echoing in the narrow alleyways. He couldn't see every building from this viewpoint.

A feeling irked at him. He reached for his phone in his coat pocket in search of the aerial view of the apartments.

He stilled. There was a single notification at the top of his lock screen with a dark red exclamation mark inside a triangle, a visible warning sign: REGISTERED ‘AURORA’ NEARBY. SIGNAL: MODERATE.

“Captain, what's wrong?” came Seonghwa's voice, steady but concerned.

It hit him, a wash of cold water in his face. Your lipstick. You just activated the lipstick tracker.

Atta girl. He could fucking sing.

Swiftly, he pulled open the Polaris app he had installed onto his phone, zooming in with his fingers to find the location of the signal. Hongjoong couldn't help the feeling ballooning in his chest now. He shoved the phone toward Wooyoung. “Isn't this coming from the furthest building out that way?”

He thrusted a finger in the direction of the southeast corner, the building no soldier had yet made it to.

Wooyoung and Seonghwa both threw him curious glances, but the former nodded. “Yeah, that's the one. But how the Hell…?”

That was hope now beating against his rib cage like thrashing, wild waves. “She's here,” he said with more certainty than he'd ever had in his life. Hongjoong whirled on every man left in the vicinity. “Tear this place apart. If you leave one scrap unturned, I'll have your head.”

There was no time left to waste. He handed his phone to Wooyoung. “Keep your eyes on that,” he told him. To both of the commanders at his side, he nodded toward the building far out. “Let's move.”

If you were going to die, then you would go down fighting. Perhaps now wasn't the best time to regret not taking those self defense lessons with Ryujin a long time ago, but you were pretty sure their curriculum didn't include having one leg chained to the floor, anyways.

Kyungmin pounced at you with a snarl, and you threw your entire body toward your left. You hit the wood floor with a thud, arms bracketed inward to keep Aurora close and out of reach.

He crashed against the wall you had just been close to—he whirled, that crazed, crimson expression glaring at you. Instinct was telling you to runrunrun—

You needed an exit plan, or at least a plan to stall while Hongjoong hauled ass here. However long it took, at least he knew where you were, where Kyungmin was. Even if you died.

“You're just wasting your breath,” he huffed, wiping at his nose again with his arm. It dribbled down the length of his hand, staining the floor beneath him.

You stared up at him, cheek burning where he'd hit you, heart pounding. “I could say the same thing about you.” He was just running at you like a bull seeing red, after all.

He took a couple steps closer, and your eyes flickered down to the chain pulled taut at your ankle. You clocked the distance between his foot and yours, prayed to whoever was watching you as you thought of tripping him over the chain.

Your idea, however, shattered as he pressed his foot against the end of it. Any movement you tried making with your chained leg was now near impossible with the weight of him holding you down. He tilted his head at you, gauging the cold gleam of fear in your eyes, the realization dawning on you. He'd seen the plan forming.

"I knew this big oaf was good for nothing,” Kyungmin said suddenly as he used his other foot to kick the body you'd knocked a chair over. He then stepped forward again on the chain miming walking down a tightrope.

You yanked at your own foot, ignoring the way the metal cuff dug into your flesh every time you moved. Anything to get you out from under his weight.

“Just give me the damn thing. Don't you want me to stop hurting you?”

Stop? You won't stop. You pushed your body up with your forearms braced against the ground. “Kim Hongjoong is on his way,” you grunted, flashing the red light at him again. “Even if you took this from me now, he will find us. I guarantee it.”

Something changed in his demeanor then, a subtle shift where the hot rage cooled into something icy. Wasn't it that an animal was most dangerous when it felt cornered?

“Maybe it'll destroy him more if he found you dead then,” he said quietly, as if to himself. He nodded.

Dread pooled in your gut. Every moment you were here, you were stuck with him becoming more and more deranged. Your head swiveled as you tried to figure out your next move before he figured out his. The only way to survive this was to take him out.

You helped yourself upright into a seated position and raised Aurora in your hand. “Hey, Kyungmin. Catch—”

Before he could process, you let his instincts fly just as Aurora flew out of your hands and into his. You bent your chained leg and threw yourself into his lower body, tackling him to the ground in a flurry of tangled limbs and body parts mashing together.

“You little—”

Something bordering a growl tore out of your throat as you lifted yourself briefly, only to bring the sharp point of your elbow down into his lower stomach. A gargled groan left his mouth and you barely had enough time to roll out of the way of his knee-jerk reaction.

You turned your head slightly, catching sight of a broken-off leg from the wooden chair. It laid there only a few feet from you on the floor this whole time, camouflaged against the floor in the corner. If he got his hands on it, you'd be screwed, but if you could get to it first…

Breathing quick and shallow, you crawled for the piece of wood.

It was only just out of your—fuck—

All the wind flew out of you as something—no, the toe of his shoe—careened into your side. He'd kicked you, no more to him than a soccer ball with a heartbeat, a dog in the streets.

You swore aloud as a pained yelp escaped you; your body crumpled limp onto the floor once again, but with the right side of your ribcage pulsing like a nightclub. God, if he cracked one of your bones, you wouldn't be surprised.

“Fuck you, really,” you rasped, clutching at your side as you attempted to regain your breath. “That hurt.”

“Good,” he drawled and knelt down beside you.

You couldn't control the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the quiet wheezing coming out of your throat from every labored breath you took. Another dose of dread shot through your veins; you saw that glint in his eyes again as he loomed over you.

What now? What… now.

A crash resonated faintly from the open doorway. Yours and Kyungmin's heads whipped in that direction, ears trained on the shouts and incoming, unmistakable sounds of gunfire.

Your eyes widened, and you didn't have much time to act.

With his back turned to you, you reached your hand up and behind your head, blindly fumbling for something, anything—

Your fingers curled around something hard and solid, the cool, polished surface making you inwardly scream in relief. It was exactly what you needed.

“He's co—shit!” Kyungmin turned just in time to see you bring down the wooden chair leg like a club, aimed at his head.

He brought his hands up in front of him, palms catching the jagged side of the wood. Blood seeped from the flesh of his hands as he gritted his teeth and attempted to rip the makeshift weapon away from you.

Kyungmin yanked hard, but you clung to it like it was your anchor. The force dragged you with him as he fell backward onto his posterior.

“In here!” you screamed to whoever was outside of that door. Heart racing, half your body on fire, you continued to grapple onto the wood piece and clamber to your knees.

Like a frightened horse, Kyungmin suddenly bucked one of his legs out and nailed you in the stomach. The wind was knocked out of you once more, the wooden leg skidding across the floor past your head.

Your face contorted into a grimace as you tried to brace yourself onto your forearms—your arms trembled, abdomen screaming at the slightest movement. Something was broken. Something had to be broken.

The room tilted violently on its axis as your vision blurred.

“Take one more step, pirate, and I kill her.”

Oh. What?

When you lifted your head, the scene had changed drastically.

Not only had Kyungmin retrieved the gun from the fallen guard's body, but there were three newcomers standing in the open doorway. There was an immense wave of relief that rippled through your body at the sight of Kim Hongjoong, Park Seonghwa, and Jung Wooyoung; all of whom drank in the sights before them with increasing fury building up beneath the surface of their skin.

(Where did one even deign to look first? The chain attached to your leg? The gun in Kyungmin's hand? The mismatched bruises and blood stains littering your face and body? The felled guard on the floor?)

Even as the relief washed over you, the adrenaline was slowly seeping out. No, no, you thought, just a little more. We're not done here yet.

You met Hongjoong's eyes from across the room, eyes gleaming like twin pearls of steel. There was a flicker of something across his face, a microbreak in his solid resolve. You couldn't hold yourself up; it was like your body knew he had finally come.

Right—then there was the barrel of a gun pointed at your head.

But Kyungmin wasn't looking at you. He was only staring at the one man he had done all of this for. The one man who stole everything from him, whether he intended to in the beginning or not.

“So,” Hongjoong drawled, cocking his head to the side, twirling the pistol in his hand, “you've been the annoying thorn in my side for three months.”

“It's been six, actually,” Kyungmin sneered.

“Oh, has it?” The Captain lifted a brow, unimpressed. “Maybe you just weren't obvious enough in that first half.”

If it didn't hurt to breathe, you might have laughed. Whatever Hongjoong was doing—and you were sure he knew what he was doing—was pissing Kyungmin off royally.

Had he even fired a gun before?

You weren't about to wait and find out.

While Hongjoong dealt with Lee Kyungmin you caught Wooyoung's eyes. He stood flanking Hongjoong on his left, hands primed on his pistol but not aiming. His eyes widened slightly as you sent him a pointed look.

Are you okay?, he seemed to ask with the tilt of his head, mouth pulled into a frown.

You mouthed, ‘There’s a bomb.’

His brows creased and his posture shifted. ‘What?’

‘Bomb,’ you enunciated clearer. When his eyes widened again, a silent question as to if he read your lips right, you nodded shallowly to keep from bumping your head against the barrel of the gun. ‘Ship. Wreck.’

Wooyoung's expression shifted and you saw a flicker of alarm cross his face. ‘Bomb on the Shipwreck?’

You mouthed back a very insistent, 'Yes,’ and watched in utter relief as Wooyoung pulled his phone out behind Hongjoong's back and began working his magic. Seonghwa was subtle in his movements as his eyes peered over at whatever Wooyoung was doing, while continuing to monitor Hongjoong and Kyungmin.

“It tracks though,” Hongjoong continued with a mocking thoughtfulness, “you can't seem to keep anyone's attention. Mine, your father's… I mean, that is why Joonseo raised you, is it not?”

Kyungmin bristled from the sting of that remark. You could taste it in the air, or maybe that was the smell of gunpowder wafting from the gun pointed at you. “My father led Strictland; he didn't have time for anything else. You, though—you took everything he would have given to me one day.”

Here we go again.

Hongjoong let out a delighted, little scoff—you couldn't tell if it was closer to a laugh. “And your first thought was to throw a tantrum?” His lips pulled into a wide grin, all teeth and no mirth. “How cute.”

“Tantrum?” Kyungmin seethed. His left hand disappeared into his pocket and withdrew a device you couldn't see from your position. But there was a deep-seated premonition in your gut, and it was only confirmed when you glanced over to the couch and realized the detonation device was no longer there. “All of this was carefully planned, down to the very moment I rigged your old boat to explode. The Shipwreck should have stayed a shipwreck—”

The smile slipped off Hongjoong's face. “I don't have time for this. You have my bird in chains.”

Your brain didn't process it until the gun fired.

BANG! —followed immediately by a tortured scream above you.

The pistol in Hongjoong's gloved hand smoked when you whipped your head in that direction—then back at Kyungmin, as he dropped his own gun in favor of clutching his right hand, now quaking from a bullet sailing clean through the center of his palm.

Blood poured out onto the floor, and you dragged yourself out of the way as the three members of Ateez swept into the room.

You were still in shock, you realized. Your eardrums were ringing, the sound muffled coming in.

Hongjoong had shot Lee Kyungmin through his hand from across the room, without blinking.

Oh my fucking—

“Get him out of my sight.” A body arrived at your side, his touch gentle as it warmed the back of your head. “Dove?” The disgust in his voice from before had disintegrated like morning fog in the clarity of day. Your chest warmed at the feeling, the sound, a soft caress to all your senses.

Your body sagged against his knees. Everything ached. “I can't get up, Joong.”

“That's okay,” he murmured. You could hear the sound of rustling from where your head was buried in the crooks of your elbows. “Hold my cane—shit… this fuckin’ cuff. This'll only take a second, dove.”

He passed his cane over to you, and same as you had with Aurora, you hugged the length of it to your chest as you laid on your side. From within the inner lining of his coat, Hongjoong withdrew a slim pocket of tools, thin and sharp, taking two of them out and working at the small hole in the middle of your ankle cuff.

“You should have stayed nonexistent, Lee Kyungmin,” you heard Seonghwa say somewhere in the distance.

Like magic, the piece of metal that kept you captive cracked in two and slipped off onto the floor. Cool, fresh air drifted over that portion; the nerves were slowly coming back to life in that area of your leg as another wave of relief washed over you.

Hongjoong knelt above you with silver lining his eyes, hair hanging over his forehead. “I’ve got you now.”

You sent him the smallest of smiles. He was here—you couldn't express how glad you were to see his face.

As if he was handling million-dollar china, he draped his coat over you and scooped you up into his arms. You hissed at the feeling of his hand against your battered side; he shifted his hold before continuing to the door.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

“You didn't know. It's okay.” You peered up at him as he carried on down the hallway so resolutely. “Hey, Joong.”

“Yeah, baby.”

The pulse in your neck fluttered. “The bomb on the Shipwreck—that’s… that's real. I told Wooyoung, but…”

Hongjoong glanced down at you. “They’ve got it handled,” he promised. “Don’t worry about it. Just—just rest, alright? You're safe now. He won't hurt you ever again.”

You're safe now. The past twenty-four hours had been a fever dream. A very real and painful fever dream, but surreal, nonetheless. All of the bundled up fear and dread compounded inside of you, pushing tears to wet your eyes. You didn't want to cry. After all that you went through, you didn't want to cry; you certainly deserved to, though.

They were tears of relief. You made it out of that room, alive and with Ateez.

When Hongjoong stepped out of the apartment building you were being held in, there was a car already stalling by the curb. Jeong Yunho sat in the driver's seat with Wooyoung on the passenger side. The latter clambered out of the car to pull open the door to the back seat, allowing Hongjoong to carefully slide in with you in his hold.

You laid your head in Hongjoong's lap, catching Wooyoung's slight smile as he closed the car door.

The car was quiet as Yunho drove all of you out of the eastern corner.

Despite the residual anxiety lingering somewhat in your veins, you could feel the heavy pull of your eyelids. Now that you were out of immediate danger, all of the energy you exerted was finally taking its toll.

Hongjoong noticed the drowsiness lingering, and his hand brushed a strand of hair out of your face. “Sleep, dove. You must be tired.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, shoulders loosening. “This is the first time I've voluntarily closed my eyes in the past twenty-four hours,” you murmured quiet enough for only Hongjoong to hear clearly.

His mouth pulled into a frown. “Voluntarily?”

“It’s” —your eyes opened and your head turned away at the memory of hands wrapped around your throat, your vision going dark— “don't worry about it.”

His fingers directed your head back to him, so you could see the firmness and sincerity in his face. “If you need to talk about it…”

You nodded as well as you could've. “I know. Thank you—for coming for me.”

He didn't say anything, only sent you a look filled with too much tenderness. You didn't quite have the energy to dismantle all of that this minute. Your eyelids were sinking again, until you finally were pulled into a willing darkness.

Kim Hongjoong had too much on his mind as he suppressed every urge to stare at your sleeping face. He had wanted to tell you he hadn't slept at all since the moment you went missing. He couldn't work up the courage to tell you everything he told Seonghwa earlier—not now, not when you were finally able to sleep in peace, out of harm's way.

Instead, his eyes flickered to the horrifyingly dark bruises around your neck, his hand curling lightly into a fist before unfurling. There were so many things he had planned for Lee Kyungmin once he ensured you were home safe. It took every fiber of his being from moving his arm a little to the right to make Kyungmin the spitting image of his father. But a quick death was the last thing he deserved.

All of those hours—you survived it, whatever that bastard put you through.

A quiet cough came from the front seat. “Hey, hyung?”

Hongjoong hummed in reply.

“San's units are at the Shipwreck now,” said Wooyoung, keeping his volume low as he twisted around in his seat to face his leader. “They found C4 strapped to the underside of the bar and some on the outer sides of the ship on the starboard side.”

His jaw clenched slightly. Of course, he believed you initially when you mentioned it earlier and he also believed that Kyungmin would have put the unaccounted-for C4 in a place of significance; but hearing the confirmation—that it could have all ended at the push of a button—was harrowing. How did he miss that? When did Strictland have any time to put the explosives in place?

He couldn't help but think of how close he was to it, how close you were to it. If the C4 had been there for as long as a couple days ago, then it well and truly could have been the end.

It was luck. Maybe he didn't believe in fate, but he could believe in dumb luck when it stared him in the face.

“They're sweeping the rest of the ship for any more explosives,” Wooyoung continued with that graveness still etched into his features. “But they'll need permission to enter the captain's quarters.”

“Granted,” Hongjoong said swiftly with a wave of his hand. He glanced out the window—the winter sun was already halfway toward the horizon. “They better find all of it.”

“Aye, Captain, they will.”

A thought popped into his head and he gestured with his hand toward Yunho in the driver's seat. “Yunho, who's your man inside the Sector 1 precinct? Dowoon, right?”

Yunho nodded as he met his eyes through the rearview mirror. “Aye. Now that I think about it, he's got access to one of their K9 units. Since we have an area to focus on, we can get him to take a dog and sniff out the rest.”

Hongjoong bobbed his head. “Exactly.” At least that would settle things for the time being.

His eyes wandered back down to you, hand resting on the side of your shoulder to keep you from falling with the motions of the car. “Wooyoung.”

“Yeah, Cap'n.”

“Have Doc Shim on standby at the house.”

He could see the commander nod from his seat. “Sure, hyung. Should we make up a guest room?”

“Nah,” he said. He dismissed any thoughts in his head that convinced him otherwise. He simply couldn't be apart from you right now, not when the last time you left, you'd been in danger. “Just—have him ready in my room. And also, give Ryujin a call and ask if she'd like to see Yn.”

Wooyoung's response was a quiet confirmation, but he snuck another peak behind him at his leader and his friend. Maybe it was the soft paleness of the winter afternoon light, but the way Hongjoong looked at you… there was no doubt in his mind.

One could feel the arrival of snow in the air like tasting the heat and electricity of an oncoming thunderstorm. Kim Hongjoong stood with his shoulder resting against the wall by the window, staring out into the dark gloom beyond as thick cumulus clouds rolled in over the bay. These were different from storm clouds that made the sea thrash with monstrous rage; they swept in frigid winds that stilled even the ocean, and could freeze the wetness in one's eyes.

In the reflection, he spied Seonghwa making his way over. His second-in-command went to the liquor cart in the corner and poured himself a shot and a half of bourbon. “They've been in there for awhile,” he murmured before lifting the edge of the crystal glass to his lips.

Hongjoong hummed, glancing down at the dregs of amber liquid at the bottom of his own glass. “They have much to talk about.”

They were referring to you and Ryujin, whom San drove over to the house to avoid Yeji or Chan coming to the private wharf. The two of you had locked yourselves in Hongjoong's room for the past three hours, likely discussing everything that you experienced these last few months. Not to mention the last twenty-four hours of constant peril.

He knocked the remaining liquor back down his throat. He couldn't pretend he was anxious to hear what either of you had to say. After all you went through, he couldn't imagine Ryujin, or even you, to want to remain in this city or in his life. He would understand… he would understand and let you go, wouldn't he?

“Wooyoung says the safe house in Sector 2 is good to go,” said Seonghwa. “They can head over whenever they're ready.”

Since yours and Ryujin's apartment was compromised, Ateez had a safe house in Sector 2 for you both to stay at for the time being—if you wanted to, that was.

“Right,” Hongjoong replied with an instinctual sort of nod, not really processing his counterpart's words.

“You should tell her.” Before Hongjoong could even open his mouth to reply, Seonghwa cut him off, “And don't say your feelings don't matter in this situation. Of course they do. Will you let yourself live with the fact that you didn't even try to ask her to stay?”

He couldn't deny that it would be against his very nature to just let you go without trying, not when he so badly wished to be selfish. Were you not safer close to him, by his side? Or was that the very reason you were hurt in the first place? That was the crossroads he stood at now.

A person made their way down the inner hallway and out to the main room beyond. Hongjoong and Seonghwa both turned to face San as he walked into the room, his thumb pointed over his shoulder.

“They're ready for you, Cap'n.”

Hongjoong pointed a finger at his chest. “Me?”

San lifted his brows. “Yes, you. They wanna talk to you.” He paused, then amended, “Yn wants to talk to you. Ryujin wants to be in the room, but I don't think she has anything to say to you.”

That tracked. Hongjoong deposited his empty drink glass on the cart and followed San back toward his own bedroom.

It was strange taking steps down a hallway well-worn with his footsteps before, but with a different weight in his chest. There was something—someone—waiting for him on the other side of his door.

Hongjoong muttered his thanks to San before taking the doorknob and letting himself in.

The room was just about the same as he left it: you were lying on the left side of his bed, head turned toward the door to meet his eyes; Ryujin was seated on the edge beside you with her body twisted in a way to watch him come in. He couldn't (didn't want to) read into the way your expression changed slightly at the sight of him.

(Hope was a cruel mistress.)

Ryujin stood stiffly, but didn't move from your side just yet. “I'll just go sit over there,” she muttered then, moving past him to take the seat at the desk on the far right.

He nodded, but was already going to replace where she had once been. The corners of his lips curved upward as he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. “How're you feeling?” he murmured, eyes refraining from fussing over the exposed bruises and bandages. It turned out to be another stroke of dumb luck that Kyungmin hadn't broken your ribs when he kicked you. (Incompetent, even in that.) They were badly bruised, but they would heal in due time.

You had an ice pack held against the right side of your face, but you still spared a small smile for him. “Everything kind of hurts,” you admitted.

“I bet,” he said and lifted his hand toward you like instinct, but stopped suddenly. Ryujin's presence was stark at his back, and even if she didn't outwardly threaten him, he dropped his hand back to where it'd been. “You wanted to speak to me?”

Your mouth pressed together as you nodded, and his heart cartwheeled off a cliff. That… wasn't a good sign. “Yeah, I—we talked and we both agreed that we'd really appreciate being able to stay at your safe house in Sector 2 until we find a new place.”

The muscles in his shoulders relaxed. “Oh. Is that all?”

“Well,” you continued slowly, as if the words were hesitant to leave your tongue, “we’re gonna leave tonight. For the safe house. I can't really think straight while I'm—in this state, and I… I just need to think over some things.”

“Ah.” Hongjoong glanced down at his lap, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips; then returned his attention back to you. No, if he displayed any signs—he didn't want to sway your decision. You said you needed to think about some things.

Seonghwa's words echoed in his ears like the dissonant toll of a bell.

“Joong?”

He nodded, and Ryujin's presence be damned, he reached over and grabbed your free hand. There was this wobbliness in your eyes, a softness at the corners he wanted to cling onto forever. He didn't want you to leave. “Whatever you need.”

You stared at him for a long time as if you were searching for something in his face.

Once upon a time, he'd done that, too. He'd looked for any sign that you wanted out of this life, or maybe that you wanted to stay. Anything.

“I'm gonna take care of you,” he whispered, a vow. He leaned down closer to you, bracing one hand on the bed by your pillow. Your eyes fluttered shut and he brushed his lips against your forehead, lingering there for a long moment and wishing it was even longer.

A kiss for a kiss, a life debt for a life debt—you owed each other nothing, and yet, he would give you everything.

When you and Ryujin left for the safe house soon afterward, he pressed his crow-topped cane into your hand when you tried to give it back. He stood outside of your car door in the blistering cold, a grin on his face, pushing it toward you. “You need it more than me,” he teased, “and you'll just have to return it at some point.” And see me again.

You were given no room for refusal. You sent him another smile, and waved to the others lingering by the doorway of their home to see you off. “Count on it, then,” you said.

If anyone asked him, he might have admitted to skipping more than one heartbeat. He wondered, terribly, if he could kick San out of the driver's seat to take you there instead.

“Get some rest, dove,” were his last words to you, soft against the winds blowing through his hair and the cold nipping at his cheeks. He shut your car door and stepped back, watching solemnly as San gave a salute through the driver's side window and disappeared down the wharf.

For a moment, the Captain and the remainder of his crew stood there.

Hongjoong was no longer smiling, his thoughts on some point—someone—far away. His expression mirrored the cold and stormy evening. “I’m headed to the warehouse,” he voiced out into the night all of a sudden. He turned on the ball of his foot and headed for one of the cars parked nearby. “Anyone care to join me?”

Glances were exchanged amongst the commanders. Wooyoung admitted to being tired and ducked back into the warehouse, shivering like a cat thrown in water. Yeosang followed swiftly after him. Yunho and Mingi shrugged to one another before joining their leader in the car. Though the main perpetrators had been caught, there was still work to be done. When one head was lobbed off, two more would take its place.

Between the oldest and youngest, there were similar thoughts floating around.

“Well, this should be good,” said Seonghwa in a tone that expressed very much the opposite.

Jongho glanced at his phone. Hongjoong had already fired up the engine to his car, so they made their way over to another car parked nearby. “Yep,” he drawled wryly, “I almost feel bad for what's about to happen.”

“Feel bad? For that scum in the brig?”

“No,” he scoffed. “For Doctor Shim and the mess he's gonna have to clean up. Y'know, the last time hyung was in there while he was pissed off, someone lost an eye.”

Seonghwa pushed out a huff that came out in a visible puff in front of his face as they climbed into the car. “He didn't lose it. It just… got away from him.”

“Is that your way of saying you'll go in there to supervise?”

The key was jammed into the ignition and the car pulled out just after Hongjoong's sedan. “Absolutely not. I'm not about to get in his way.”

Jongho slowly began working through his notifications. The Shipwreck had just been cleared for all explosives as of several minutes ago, and that was one less headache to deal with. The next would be figuring out how they got there in the first place. Any thoughts pertaining to that question certainly didn't ease anyone's minds. “Fair enough. Good thing he's not handling the handoff with the DDC later.”

“That, too.”

Neither of them could say they were incredibly surprised that Hongjoong simply let you go without a fight. They'd seen the signs—he’d broken so many patterns when it came to you that they couldn't be surprised. You were his exception. Through all of Hongjoong's determination, he could be just as stubborn, too. It was frustrating, to say the least, seeing him put himself through this.

The car was a comfortable quiet between the two until Jongho piped up, “He gave her his cane.”

Seonghwa nearly banged his head against the steering wheel. “I fucking know.”

You received all your intel through Sakura's secure line, who received it from Wooyoung's secure line, who received it all straight from the source—but his reiteration would always be with a dash of melodrama. Yours and Ryujin's agreement was for you to stay at the house (not working) until you were fully healed. During that time, it was preferred that you didn't communicate directly with the members of Ateez while you marinated in your thoughts.

The only problem was that you couldn't stay away. You just couldn't.

It was something that Ryujin was beginning to understand, even as she tried to resume her normal life and working schedule; even as you hobbled around the safe house with that damned Captain's cane; even as she looked at the sallow-colored bruises on your face and neck and was reminded of the horrors you went through, of the life you had been living.

There were moments she wondered, horribly, if this could have all been avoided. Was it selfish of her to think that? The trajectory of your life was manipulated in a way to lead you toward this end point. Some of it wasn't your choice, and some of it was.

When Yeji had pulled her aside in the hallway outside the apartment, she'd explained who she was, who the men in the apartment were, and who you were in relation to all of them. It had been a feat to wrap her head around, but she couldn't do anything but worry about you. The two of you had been safe in the gray area for so long that she couldn't believe this would ever happen. What was the alleged “safety” of the gray areas good for if the politics of the territories eventually bled into them?

She didn't know what to do, or what you would have her do. There weren't many ways to go back after this.

Two weeks in and the safe house still wasn't quite home.

Ryujin pushed her way in through the door with her work bag on one shoulder and exhaustion weighing down the other. The house was nestled in some very quaint, little suburban slice of Sector 2, complete with two stories, a porch, and kids with bikes riding along the streets. It was so odd to have a mafia family's safe house in the middle of this place.

She deposited her key by the door with a clatter. “Yn?” she bellowed into the house. “Can we talk?”

Commutes to and from the office were often a place to marinate in one's thoughts as they zoned out after a long day of work. With Sector 2 being south of Sector 1, there weren't any closures on the subway line from the Hala Town explosion. Ryujin had been doing too much thinking lately.

A pattering of footsteps could be heard from upstairs. “Yeah, gimme a sec!” This was swiftly followed by more footsteps, before you appeared at the top of the stairs by the entryway to the house.

“Hey,” you greeted her brightly as you descended the stairs. “How was work?”

Ryujin groaned into your shoulder as you wrapped your arms around her. “I’m gonna kill Leonard.”

“I'm sorry, hon,” you murmured in consolation, patting her back. “Aren't you getting a new boss soon? Maybe when she comes in, he'll get his head bitten off.”

“Wouldn't that be the dream?” she huffed, pulling away and brushing the hair from her face. She gave you a once-over, as she'd made it a habit of to check the state of your physical injuries—then gestured to the living room down the hall. “I don't think I can do this anymore.”

You stopped in your tracks with your eyes going wide. “What do you mean?”

“This” —she put her hands out to the entirety of the house around her— “it just doesn't feel right.” Ryujin held the sides of your arms and looked you in the eye. “You know, I was a little mad at you for a couple days because you joined a mafia.”

“That's fair.”

“And you know, it's also not your fault that some whack job stalked you and trashed our apartment, then kidnapped you,” she continued on. “But I don't want us to live in fear our whole lives.”

You nodded in earnest. “I know. And we won't, I promise, Ryu. I'm so sorry I got us into this mess. I'll—I can get us out of it—”

Ryujin blinked. “Wait. Hold on.” She shook her head. The tiredness was getting to her. “I just mean—you can't let go of it, Yn. This whole time you've been here, you might have tried to separate yourself, maybe for my sake, but you haven't been able to. Tell me I'm wrong.”

“No, you're right,” you said, swallowing.

“I'm trying to see this, them, from your perspective.” There had only ever been a black and white way of viewing the ruling crime families and gangs for her, but seeing how this one had been so adamant to find you and help you… they didn't abandon you. Their captain had stuck by your side until he was kicked out of his own room. She had seen how you and he were together with her own eyes.

She'd be a damn fool to ignore it.

“I don't wanna lose you.” Your words were a quiet statement.

Ryujin squeezed your arms lightly. “You won't,” she promised. “But I need you to be honest with me—what do you want to do? Because I'm going insane while being cooped up in this house, pretending like everything is fine.”

Had she gone overboard? Was her sanity clear out of the station? You looked right back at her and she watched the microexpressions of your face change as your resolve did. You wanted to fix things after getting her involved, and you wanted her to be the first one to speak her mind. But Ryujin didn't want to be the friend who pretended like she didn't know you needed this, needed them.

“I feel like I have a purpose there,” you confessed, rubbing your other arm. “I've met people I adore. It's where I want to be.”

That was all she needed to hear from you: the truth.

When you left the safe house thirty minutes ago, you swore you could do this. But as you stood, in the freezing cold, outside the captain's quarters of the Shipwreck, you weren't so sure anymore. That was, owning up to your feelings. The part about taking your job back was easy, but there were other things left on your mind, too.

“Are you gonna come in or just freeze to death?”

Your hands tightened around the head of Hongjoong's cane in surprise as his familiar voice carried through the wooden door. It made a warmth pool in your stomach—two weeks away, and you missed him. The last time you saw him…

You sucked in a breath and finally let yourself in.

The warmth inside the cabin washed over you in a wave. You could feel your body begin to thaw from the brief amount of time you dawdled outside. Nothing about the office had changed much—there was still the big, mahogany desk at its center, the armchair in the corner, the porthole window looking out into the ocean, and the man seated at the focal point of your view.

He stood at your entrance, hands braced lightly on the desk, a pretty smile on his face. “I thought you were going to be a popsicle before I got to see you again, dove. How are you?”

You nudged the door closed with a sheepish chuckle. “Well,” you said, “thought I would up the anticipation. I'm—I’m better.”

“Better?” he repeated softly, rounding the desk to see you for himself. He stopped a distance still away from you, leaning back against the edge of the desk, eyes soaking in the faded bruises and the healthier stature and glow.

“Most of everything's healed,” you said, handing him his cane so you could unwrap the scarf from around your neck. The contrast between the office and the wintry world outside was stark. “Obviously, there are some things I can't forget, but…” your voice trailed off when you saw how intently he was listening; he rubbed the top of the crow's head absentmindedly. “I'm fine, really,” you promised him. “How are you?”

He licked his lips. “Fine, all things considered. I've been, ah, wondering how you were. Thank you” —he raised the cane slightly to gesture with it, before leaning it against the side of the desk— “for bringing this back.”

“'Course,” you said. You fiddled with your jacket zipper, before opting to take the winter coat off, too. “I know I kind of left pretty suddenly that night—”

“You don't have to explain yourself,” he murmured. He pushed off the desk and stepped closer to you, eyes pinned to the hollow of your throat as he helped you shoulder the coat off. As he folded the garment into neat quarters, setting it on the table, he said, “You needed time to think, and you needed space to do that.”

“It wasn't the conversation I wanted to have with you.” The words came too suddenly out of your mouth. Truthfully, you feared if they hadn't tumbled out like an oncoming avalanche, they would have never. It seemed to pique his interest, nonetheless. “Ryujin and I have talked a lot about what happened and how this will affect both of our lives going forward. And I… I really just wanted to fix things between us because I had put her life in danger, and I owed her that much as her friend. I don't,” you paused and shook your head. “I don't really know where this is going.”

You swore something had cracked in his demeanor. He swallowed, straightening. “My offer still stands,” he said quietly. “Yn, I want you to be able to have a choice in this. A chance to get out while you can.”

Oh. You really should have rehearsed your words better. “Joong, I can't go back.”

“You can. I’ll—”

“I don't think you understand,” you interjected, stepping into his space to cup his face in your hands. “I couldn't go back if I tried. You'd have to wipe all my memories of you.”

His expression shifted as it dawned on him.

“And I don't want to forget you.”

He shuddered, arms coming around you. Your hands fell to his shoulders—he cradled one side of your face with his hand. “Tell me you want me as badly as I want you,” he said, pleaded. His eyes searched your face for something. “Tell me you wanna stay, and I'll take care of you for the rest of my goddamn life.”

You could feel your heart in your throat. “Kim Hongjoong, I want you.”

The next breath you took was air, but everything afterward was him. He drew his lips over yours, soft and feather light. It was only a taste of what he wanted to offer you, but he was giving you space to move back if you wished. Even now, he gave you a choice. But if he was bourbon, and this was a sip, you were as good as addicted.

You exhaled into him, pressing your lips against his in silent words that spoke volumes.

His fingers squeezed your side, confident hand guiding you backwards by one step, two—until the edge of the desk dug into your back. His brows furrowed as he seared his kiss into you and your head tilted to accommodate him. Every second he wasted without his lips on yours, he made up for now. He held you like you were his, kissed you like you made him whole.

All the wanting, the aching… it all culminated into this. Something heavy, but something that could be held between the two of you.

When you both pulled away, your chests heaving for air, he kept his forehead pressed to yours, noses close enough to touch. No breath wasted; only ever his and yours. After all this time—

“Sometimes,” he muttered so close to your lips, you could taste his words, “I think I would have always ended up in that bar, one way or another.”

It took you a moment to realize he was talking about the one on Fifth. The warmth from his gaze, his skin, his touch… there went all of your inhibitions. “I thought you didn't believe in fate?” you mused, practically breathless.

Hongjoong hummed. “I don't,” he said, “but I like to think that if things were different, we would have still met. And my plans that night, whatever they were, would have changed as soon as I saw you.”

You couldn't string together a coherent response, but there was this awfully fond gaze on his face that made your heart pound harder. Fuck, maybe I love you, you thought.

You were hopeless—you both were. The emotion was building up in your chest, and you couldn't force it down. It was spilling, spilling, spilling over; until all you could do was grab him and kiss him again.

EIGHT MONTHS LATER.

You could always overhear Ethan and Perry's conversations from the register. One might think they learned to quiet their big mouths every once in a while, but that simply had yet to compute in their minds. It wasn't like you were about to tell them to quiet down; it made your job a whole lot easier.

“They say wherever she goes, he's probably not far behind.”

“Well, who is she then?”

You exhaled under your breath as you swept out from behind the bar countertop and made your way over to an abandoned table. The patrons who were just here left their drained glasses and napkins, and you deftly piled them onto your tray to take into the kitchen.

For the past month or so, you were stuck working at this hole in the wall. It was down south, on the westernmost edge of Hala Town's famed east corner; the edge of all the action, really. But if you had learned anything over the past year, it was that no matter where you were, people talked.

You passed by a bus boy's cart just before you reached the back doors, and deposited your load.

“Hey, Dove!”

You lifted your head and adjusted the pencil tucked behind your ear. “Yeah, Perry, what's up?”

Perry leaned over the bartop. With traffic through the joint having slowed considerably, he was far too bored. “You ever heard of this storm bird chick? I figured since you're named after a bird, you might know her.” He chuckled at his own joke, hitting Ethan's arm with the back of his hand.

With a raise of your brow, you carried on to wipe down some of the tables. “No idea,” you drawled with easy nonchalance. Talk did spread, but that didn't mean it spread well. You were counting on hearing a few other things though.

Yunho had gotten word from one of his undercover informants about a month ago to keep an eye on this place. You couldn't see the importance at the onset, but you supposed any place could be the place.

With the ghosts of Strictland's past leadership officially booted off this mortal coil, you and Ateez were left killing a Hydra. Your job? Smoke out the snakes hiding in the brush.

Though, as much as you enjoyed helping the family with taking out the trash, you couldn't wait to get back to the Shipwreck. Working at places like this reminded you of how lucky you were.

As you continued on with your duties, you caught sight of a figure seated in one of the corner booths. He had been here for a little over half an hour now, angled in a way where the shadows clung to his features just right. If you glanced at him once or twice, you would be able to see his features well enough to identify him, let alone remember him.

He wore a newsboy cap over his face, casting another shadow over his eyes. Ethan nor Perry had paid him any mind.

You walked over toward his table and leaned your hip against it. “You sure I can't get you something, love?”

Half of his smile peeked out of the shadows, and he lifted his head just enough so you could catch his wink. “Surprise me, sweetheart.”

“Whatever you say,” you mused, wandering back over to the bar.

You tuned back into Ethan and Perry's conversation. Half of the time, they only blabbed about the latest sports broadcast, anyway; but occasionally, they said things that piqued your interest.

“—know they're acquiring them, right?”

Thank God your ears couldn't perk up like a dog's. “Hey, can I get three fingers of bourbon neat for the guy back there?” you asked, leaning your forearms over the bar.

Ethan nodded at you and turned toward the liquors. “Sure, gimme a second—you were saying? What do you mean they're acquiring them?”

“That’s just what I mean! It's like they're buying them out to get sole leadership, I dunno. Except, they're not buying; they're… y'know…” Perry made a slicing motion across his neck just as Ethan passed you the bourbon you asked for.

“Thanks,” you muttered, taking the drink slowly.

“Why? To establish dominance?”

You took your time walking back toward Hongjoong.

“Well, yeah. If you wanna have a chance at taking out the Captain, you have to be ruthless. That guy is like, unkillable.”

When you reached your desired booth, you set the glass down in front of him. “I think you're only here because guys like them keep calling you 'unkillable’ and 'untouchable,’” you jested, crossing your arms over your chest with an ill-concealed smile.

“That's not true,” he protested half-heartedly. Hongjoong knocked the bourbon back in an easy swig, and he slid out of the booth to stand up. You could see his face much better now. There was a smirk settled there, a canine poking out as he licked the remaining bourbon from his lips. “Maybe I'll return this glass to them while I'm over there.”

“Don't twist their arms too hard. They're kind of funny,” you said to him.

“Dove, they might want to kill me.”

You cocked your head to the side in mock thoughtfulness. “I thought you were unkillable?”

His smirk widened. “Doesn't stop anyone from trying.” He grabbed your waist and hauled you to him before stealing a kiss (for “good luck,” he always claimed). “I love you, but go wait in the car.”

“Love you, too. Don't make me wait too long.”

Hongjoong began walking in the direction of the bar as you went toward the exit. He cracked his knuckles through his gloves, clocking the size and stature of each man and how best to make them talk. “This should be fun,” he muttered to himself.

It was time for him to go to work.

permanent taglist (the new one): @jaehunnyy @seomisaho @gaonashi @thecarnivaloflies @mars101 @sanbangchan @http-gyu @luumiinaa @starlightkwan @empire-x @kpopjackie @shakalakaboomboo @vernonburger @kangyeosanq @fluorescentloves @distvrbia @cromernet

a/n: and that's the end! thank you for tuning into this endeavor of mine — i've always wanted to see a mafia au through, not to mention an extremely long-form fic like this 😅 really, this tested my nerve, patience, skills, brainpower, and willpower (some of those def overlap), and i'm very happy to say that i was able to see this project through. this has actually been a draft of mine for over a year, but i lost motivation after writing some of chapter five before picking it up again during IOMT era. ig i'm just glad i didn't lose all hope with it haha

thanks again for reading, from those who came back each week for the new chapter drop to those who are binging the series in one fell swoop. pls remember to reblog if you enjoyed reading it tho, and tell me what u think! 💖

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series taglist: @starriniqhts @hon3ysun @wooyouz @emotionallyanaemic @queenofdumbfuckery @ateezswonderland @angeleyes127 @sophie-mae-rose @asweetblueberry2 @miniverse-zen @dekyepunn @likexaxdaydream @acescavern

#answering ur tags here weeeee #YES i was dying for our girl to finally do smth huge and it just so happened to be tackling him #pleaseeee the way i made joong not give a shit abt kyungmin when they finally met 💀#like he gave zero fucks and it was just too fun #im glad u liked those lines heh #this chapter really was just fan service time (read: SELF INDULGENT ASF as if this entire series wasnt self indulgent..)#feedback #moot ❧#yumi 🌙

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sungbeam · 18 days ago

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