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sungbeam · 4 days ago

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BIRDS OF PREY — fourteen

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, mentions of alcohol, mentions of money laundering, workplace power dynamics and uncomfortable propositions, mentions of tracking devices, mentions of weed (reader does not smoke it, only inhales it secondhand bc of someone else in the room), one allusion to violent methods of extracting information (nothing is explicitly stated), barely proofread like idek if i can be considered conscious rn laskdfjndsk

▷ word count. 6.6k

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a/n: i finished this last night at abt the same time yn was crashing out at work in this chapter 🤡 also the way this chapter ended up this long... it was literally supposed to be so short.....

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: HOW TO KILL A HYDRA

“I FEEL LIKE I HAVEN'T seen you in forever,” groaned Ryujin as the two of you boisterously shouldered your way into the apartment, arms full of grocery bags for the week. Her face was flush from the sting of winter morning air, but a smile stretched across her mouth nonetheless.

You couldn't disagree with her. Your face was just as nipped by the winter cold, but you were undoubtedly aglow from the much needed girl time from this morning. “And apparently we live together,” you joked.

After all the tension and chaos your working at Dionysus brought you, a moment of normalcy was all you wanted. Lately, both you and Ryujin were mutually swamped with work and college, meaning it was nearly impossible to speak to one another besides the passing-by wave or a post-it note left on the door. But this morning had been yours and Ryujin's temporary strike in order to finally spend time together.

Ryujin wiped an invisible bead of sweat from her forehead after wrestling the bags in her hands onto the kitchen counter. “Phew. I… am so out of shape. How about you?”

You grunted in response, nearly flopping onto the counter with your own bags. “I'm doing great,” you replied in exaggerated panting, though some of it wasn't exaggerated. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

She snorted, turning to the fridge. “It was a good thing we got breakfast before we left,” she said, “but I can't believe it was so crowded this morning. On a weekday, too.”

“You’re not the only one who got today off, I guess,” you said with a shrug. You dug out items from the bags to pass along to Ryujin. The only reason why this morning was even possible was because it was one of those random national holidays that came up too quick for anyone to remember. It celebrated some distant figure from the country's past; you undoubtedly learned about him in school, but his only legacy today was giving some folks a day off from their 9-to-5.

She accepted a jug of dairy creamer from you with a hum. “Hm, you're right. I still think it's so foul that you have to go to work tonight. I mean—club workers should get national holidays off, too!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wish. It's too bad there isn't a bartender or waiter union in this city.”

“You should start one.”

“If only I had the time,” you lamented. Even as you threw out jokes, your stomach twisted. There wasn’t much time left before the meeting at the end of this week, and if you didn’t leave work tonight with the news that you were hoping for, you feared there might be Hell to pay.

Your friend let out a noncommittal hum. “Well, at the very least, I could drop you off at work. I have lots of time today, anyways, so—”

The jar of maraschino cherries slipped from your grasp, and your hands fumbled to claw it back into the safety of your possession. The glass clunked noisily against the countertop as you used your front as an extra hand. “You don’t have to,” you said quickly.

Ryujin sent you a look, carefully taking the jar of cherries from you. “Oh. Are you sure? I never get to drop you off.”

“Really, you don’t have to,” you replied with feigned nonchalance. You glanced over at her briefly but pulled your eyes away just as fast. Your mind raced with the memory of Chan—he already knew who Ryujin was and interacted with her plenty. You needed to keep her out of this. “It’s getting a little more dangerous around here lately, especially with how dark it gets. And you know Jungwon comes to pick me up, so it’s all good.”

You wondered if she could hear your pulse, if she could see the guilt scrawled across your face like some glaring neon sign.

In times like these, a moment sometimes felt like five years.

“Right, I forgot.” Ryujin was turned away toward the fridge when your eyes darted back to her.

“I appreciate it though,” you were quick to add. It’s just better this way.

She shot you a smile; if you didn’t know her like you did, you might have been relieved to see it. “Maybe another time then. Just stay safe yourself, Yn.”

“I always am,” you hummed, a little too easily. Speaking of safety… “So, uhm, y'know Chan.”

In your periphery, Ryujin straightened like an arrow, perked up like a puppy. You realized your mistake far too late. “What about Chan?” she asked you with that teasing lilt at the end. She flounced over on the balls of her feet, plucking up the bundle of lettuce from your hands and wagging her brows.

You inwardly facepalmed. Oh, could you be more subtle today? You forced a laugh. “It's not like that,” you insisted, though to no avail. “I was just wondering if you'd seen him around the office lately.”

Yeah, like saying that wasn't any more suspicious.

Ryujin's expression practically screamed a similar sentiment, but she only cocked a brow at you and replied, “Now that I think about it, not really. He's swung by maybe once since the party, but he must be busy or something.”

Unfortunately, that only made it seem more plausible in your mind that Chan only sought Ryujin out to get to you, and ultimately, to Hongjoong. How did he know? And when? “Oh,” you said. “Must be, I guess. He mentioned something about the acquisitions industry.”

“Yeah,” your friend snorted. “Acquisitions is just a friendlier term for a less savory business.”

You paused. “Really.”

“Yeah.” Ryujin had her back to you as she shoved a box of ice cream sandwiches into the freezer. “One of my coworkers said it must be some kind of black market thing. Of course, it's not something that can be proven, but that's what people usually mean when they say 'acquisitions.’”

Great, so you had the answer glaring at you the entire time. There was still much you had left to learn. Your pulse still pounded against your throat though, unable to rid your mind of the dread seeping into your bones as you uncovered more information.

“And that doesn't change your mind about him?” you asked next, slowly, while gauging her reaction.

She shrugged. “Not particularly,” she said flippantly. Ryujin bumped the freezer closed with her hand as she turned to face you. “He's nice enough, but y'know, I like his friend Yeji a lot more.”

A sly smile curled onto your lips, and you felt a laugh bubble out of your chest as you noted Ryujin's own bashfulness began to peer through her nonchalance. “Yeah, forget about Chan. It's time for you to catch me up on her.”

When night casted its wide net over the city once more, you found yourself packing your bag for the work shift ahead of you. You quietly stuffed your small purse with the essentials: clothes tape, body tape, perfume, breath mints, pads, Band-Aids, and of course—

Before you let her join the rest, you swiped a bit of Aurora over your lips. As you massaged the color into an even spread, you stared at the slim, gold tube in your hand. Your reflection appeared on its surface, albeit distorted and gold-tinted.

Never in your wildest dreams had you ever thought you would end up doing this—playing spy for organized crime, as a bottle girl in a territory outside the gray areas. Perhaps the gravity of your situation had yet to catch up to you.

You pushed out an exhale through your mouth, mindlessly fidgeting with the tube while you waited for Jungwon's text… Then, there was him. After the other night, with his strange behavior, you admittedly felt your pulse rush in anticipation of the tension.

Maybe this Jjong hyung person was a sore spot, but regardless, you hoped this wouldn't put a damper on yours and Jungwon's working relationship. It was just—you’d never seen him act that way before. He didn't seem capable of reacting like that.

“You don't really know him that well though,” you muttered to yourself, now holding the sealed lipstick tube like a ballpoint pen. “You can't claim to know anything about anyone—”

Ca-schink!

You jolted.

Your thumb had pressed down upon the end of the tube and activated a mechanism. A soft red light now emitted from its apex.

You squinted at it, curious. When you pressed down on it again, the light disappeared, along with any trace of what you just saw, as if it had retracted back into the end of the tube.

The light itself was not nearly bright enough to act as a flashlight, nor was it some blacklight that could reveal invisible ink (you guessed). Could it be…

Your phone buzzed on the table.

jwon 😸: i'm here

This would have to wait until later.

You clicked the lipstick into the off position, shoved it into your bag, and headed out. With forecasts of snow on the horizon, the air had developed a sharper edge to it lately. You tugged the sides of your thick coat tighter around you, instinctively checking both ways before scurrying across the road to where Jungwon was parked. At least you could still count on him for this.

He was seated in the driver’s seat, as usual, his phone screen casting a white glow across his face and creating a glare over the lenses of his glasses.

Don’t make this awkward, you thought to yourself as you rounded to the passenger’s side of the car and let yourself in.

“Hey,” you chirped, huffing out a breath at the stark contrast between the warm air in here and the cold air outside.

“Hey.” He nodded back, clearing his throat as he placed his hands on the ten and two positions of the steering wheel, waiting for you to get settled.

You could feel the palpable stiffness. You hit an invisible wall every time you wanted to say something casual. Another apology sat locked and loaded on your tongue, but you stopped yourself. You’d already expressed that it was an accident and that you were sorry. Maybe you could try to pretend like the entire thing didn’t happen; maybe that would put you and him back to where you’d been before.

As Jungwon peeled his car away from the curb, he cleared his throat again. “Listen,” he started, “I’m sorry I snapped at you the other night. I guess I’m just… a little protective over my personal life.”

You swallowed, giving a small nod. “It’s okay, but really, I get it.” Bang Chan’s face from when you met in Dionysus for the second time—the first time you met his true self—flashed in the forefront of your mind. Something sour settled on your tastebuds. You understood Jungwon completely. “I wouldn’t want people from our line of work knowing about my private life either.”

He bobbed his head and sent you a thin smile. “Right.”

You both fell into silence after that with nothing left to say. There would eventually come a brief discussion over tonight’s goals and what to listen for, but other than that, the car was filled with nothing but the low hum of the radio. Your stomach continued to twist in a painful bind, that the conversation seemed to only widen the gap than resolve anything.

Hongjoong knew the feeling of disappointment all too well. It was less a sharp stab to the gut like betrayal, and more of a heavy shroud over his shoulders. Paired with an acute sense of failure, one would have one Hell of a frustration cocktail in their hands. He would do anything to get the looming shadow over him to back the fuck up.

The sound of the office door opening didn't break his attention away from the window. Up in the Crow's Nest, he could see everything and everyone, including their expressions. It was something that helped occupy his mind from simply imploding.

“Don't tell me—”

Seonghwa's voice, already soft, cut off abruptly at the end. In the reflection of the window, Hongjoong could see Yunho's head shake, his mouth pressed into a grave line.

When the door closed again, the second in command let out a sigh. “This isn't looking good.”

“How many addresses are left?” Hongjoong gripped the head of his cane as he watched Jongho's group come in through the warehouse doors. He made eye contact with his commander, who had a gleam in his eye and nodded his head. Finally.

A beat passed. “We still have a couple left. Jongho and San haven't reported back yet.”

“We're about to get good news, I hope,” Hongjoong replied, inclining his chin out the window and turning toward Seonghwa.

This day had been geared toward the list of addresses the DDC's Yoon Jeonghan had sent over. The addresses were possible locations where the Non-Captain and Mr. Young could be hiding out or making their base of operations. The list had been determined based upon intelligence collected from the men he had scattered all over the city, ranging from first person sightings to suspicious billings for said buildings.

While Hongjoong didn't exactly trust Jeonghan, he was eager to squash the virus before it got worse. And so far, Jeonghan had yet to let him down.

Well, until now. But hopefully, with whatever Jongho was returning with, it would all be worth it.

By the time Jongho arrived at the Crow's Nest, Hongjoong could feel the pent-up anxiety and anticipation buzz through him like the low hum of caffeine at the back of his head. The commander didn't look any worse for wear, fortunately, but he didn't exactly seem to be bringing great tidings either.

“What'd you find?” Hongjoong asked.

Jongho shut the door behind him before tucking his hands in front of him. “We have a lead.”

Music to his fucking ears. Hongjoong could feel his heart rate subside briefly, before the adrenaline rushed through in anticipation of what the lead was.

Seonghwa lowered his glasses onto his nose and began flipping through his property documents. “You had the basement off of 23rd street in Sector 2, correct?”

“Aye,” he nodded. “The building used to be an old Laundromat, but had never been sold or remodeled. It was rotting away, basically. We found empty take out containers, filled trash cans, and other signs that people had been there but left in a hurry. There weren't any forms of identification left behind, but we did find remnants of documents in the basket of their paper shredder.”

Hongjoong sucked the inside of his cheek in thought. It was something. He hoped it was something big. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling. “Good work, Jongho. Have the pieces sent over to be reassembled,” he said.

“Already done, Captain.”

“And we need to cross-reference the last known owner of that Laundromat with any known associations to Strictland or even one of Mr. Young's aliases. Wooyoung is still working on compiling any other sightings of him throughout the city over the past three years, but cross it with his results once he's finished.”

Jongho gave a sharp nod. “Aye, Captain. Should I have a group keep watch over the location?”

“Yes. That's all—thanks, Jongho.”

The commander ducked out of the room and left the two to themselves once again.

Hongjoong dragged a hand through his hair and leaned his weight onto his cane. It was something but not much. It would do no one good to be too optimistic at this point. They couldn't even be sure that the reincarnated Strictland had been in that basement, let alone if that had been their hideout all this time. How many members of Strictland were left? Did they have soldiers?

In the worst case scenario, if none of this led anywhere, then what would be the next step? And what would that mean for his partnership with the DDC? Jeonghan had exchanged their assistance in smoking out this invisible threat for first pass at cromer powder when it hit the streets. He wouldn't send Ateez on a wild goose chase if he knew he couldn't get access to cromer powder otherwise, right?

Mindlessly, he leaned back against the wall by Seonghwa's desk. What to do, what to do…

“What do you think?” Seonghwa voiced aloud suddenly. He peered up from the papers in front of him, turning in the office chair to face Hongjoong with his arms crossed over his chest. “Do you think we're being played?”

In his gut? No. But with the results?... Maybe. “I can't quite tell but it wouldn't make sense,” he admitted. “Yoon's too smart to do that.”

“He is smart,” Seonghwa agreed. “And that's exactly why we should reconsider everything that's happened up until now. They seemed so sure of themselves.”

Hongjoong snorted. “The Diamond District is always sure of themselves.” He knew it first-hand and at every interaction with them. Though, he couldn't shake the feeling prickling in the back of his mind. Of course, he knew that Seonghwa's suspicions had merit; Hongjoong harbored the very same ones, though he didn't say them aloud. There were always contingency plans in place, but that didn't mean he wanted to use them.

Really, if these were safe houses that members of Strictland were using, then tonight's work did have a productive purpose. After all, how did one go about killing a Hydra?

“We're sure that the product is under lock and key?”

“It's with Ruby, and Ruby is under Yeosang's watch,” he said in reply. It was almost guaranteed that nothing would happen to the product or its maker. If Yeosang lost her, there would be Hell to pay.

Hongjoong knew the feeling. Or at least, an inkling of it. There was a strange ache in his chest and he rubbed at it absentmindedly with his palm. Perhaps he should be cutting back on the bourbon.

“San still hasn't come back yet, and once Jongho's paper samples get reassembled and analyzed, there could be something,” Seonghwa stated, as if to console himself. “Maybe… maybe it's time to resort to different measures, Captain.”

He passed his right-hand a glance. He thumbed at his lip, already tasting the heady iron of blood on his tongue. He was itching to get this over with, and sometimes, civilized maneuvers weren't as fast as the alternative. “We’re gonna need to find someone to get information out of first. Any ideas?”

Something twitched over Seonghwa's lips. “I've got some.”

It was the first sign of excitement he'd seen from Seonghwa in a while. This would at least give him something physical to do with his hands.

“Anything on our other operation?”

Hongjoong raised a brow. “It hasn't been that long since our last update.” At Seonghwa's silence, he prodded, “What's on your mind? I said I was sorry, and I'm not planning on inserting myself there anytime soon.”

Seonghwa leveled a stare at him that would have made any grown man piss his pants, but Hongjoong had practically grown up with that stare by his side. “You better not. It's bad enough that we've got crazy ghosts hell-bent on revenge. I don't need you losing your mind either.”

He grinned at him, suppressing a laugh. “Aw, you think I'm crazy? I'm touched.”

“Oy vey,” he grunted, shaking his head. “What’s our backup plan if Yn doesn't get into the meeting?”

“Now who doesn't have faith?”

“So you admit to not having faith in her?” Seonghwa parried.

Hongjoong was not deterred. “I never said that,” he shrugged. “She'll get in. I have a feeling.”

“Is that what you're calling it now?”

Always with this, Hongjoong thought to himself. What else could that feeling be? It was normal to feel concerned over an asset or a liability. Sure, he cared a little more than what people might expect, but didn't he always? It was simply that he showed it a little more when it came to you.

(What did that say about how he felt? Well… he wasn't about to answer that question. There were more important things to worry about at the moment.)

Hongjoong pretended he didn't hear him. “In a couple nights, we'll have the answers we need.”

“And if we don't?”

Another shrug. “I have ideas.” There would always be cards Hongjoong could play. No one was going to get away with forcing him to play mouse, not without him having his turn as the cat.

Seonghwa held his face in one hand. “I hate that look.”

It was about that time of the night when your thoughts shook at the knees and wobbled down the path of no return.

Tonight's air coincided with the stress of one event on the near horizon. You could feel it among the floor managers, amongst your coworkers. You could feel the weight of their stares burn into you even if you knew they were looking, boring their judgment into your skull and branding you as an outsider, or a contender, or maybe neither.

You embedded the corners of your mouth deep into the apples of your cheek until you were unsure if you would ever smile again after tonight.

“Your pockets are full, hon, go take a break.” Sabine's presence was your desert oasis as you leaned against the bar counter for just a moment of weakness. You'd taken a dive off the deep end tonight, working so many tables, so many clients, you thought you could fill a ledger book with them.

“I've got about a dozen shots that need to go to table four—”

“Uh-huh, not until you sit down for like, two seconds. Y'know, long enough to breathe?”

There was a conveniently-placed stool at your three o'clock, and you slid right onto it, exhaling when you felt the pressure leave your soles. “Thanks,” you said just loud enough over the house music.

Sabine nodded. “Yeah… you need a pick-me-up? A shot of whiskey?”

You passed her a look, and she raised her hands in surrender. “It helps; I speak from experience.”

“No, no. I don't doubt you. I used to sip on one tall glass of apple martini the whole night.”

She gave a loud chortle that made you grin. “A martini lasted you the entire shift? What, were you drinking one dew drop at a time?”

“It was a tall glass,” you insisted. “Like a Sex on the Beach glass. Lean, sexy. And I was savoring it.”

“Uh-huh,” she drawled. “Well, superstar, I'll ask Ronni to whip you up one of those tall apple martinis or whatever. Go deposit your tips and shake some tail.”

You pressed a kiss to her cheek as you slid off the stool. “I appreciate you.”

“I know you do.”

You hurried off after you took a generous gulp of Ronni's apple martini, refueled and reenergized. As the alcohol zipped through you, it was almost as if getting injected with a shot of caffeine. You'd probably feel the crash a little later on, but it would at least make smiling easier.

If there was one thing you were going to miss about this gig at the Dionysus, it would be Sabine. More than once did you entertain the idea of referring her to work at the Shipwreck. You didn't know how open she would be to a slight change of scenery, but… y'know, maybe the journey home from the Shipwreck to her apartment wouldn't be as bad.

And maybe, then, you could still see her and be friends.

Was that against the mafia spy code or something? Did it make you soft? (Maybe that was a good thing.)

By the end of the night, the lights had become haloes and you were slightly buzzed. You'd ingested the drink slow enough that you were only tipsy, and nothing that a cold drink of water wouldn't fix.

All that mattered was that you had smashed your quota.

“Dove,” you heard Ha-yi say as she appeared around the corridor by the staff monitor. Your coworkers had largely disappeared into the break room, waiting for tips to be split. “I need to speak with you for a moment.”

You nodded, logging out of the monitor. “Sure.”

“In the managers’ office.”

The organ in your ribcage shot out of a cannon. You just barely nodded in time for it to look natural. “Uhm, sure. Yeah. Lead the way.”

Ha-yi beckoned you toward the back hallway with the flick of two of her fingers, turning and walking on. You went after her, rolling your shoulders back and counting to ten in your head, wringing your sweaty hands in front of you, and trying to keep your heels from folding beneath you.

You wondered if this was what a perp walk was like—like in those crime shows, where the cops walked the perpetrator out through the crowd like some backwards runway show.

You caught Jungwon's eyes as you went through the kitchen, his dark eyes widening only slightly at the sight of you trailing after your floor manager. Silently, you made a gesture, something simple to signal where you were going.

He sent you back a small nod, apprehensively turning back to the sink, but still watching you from his periphery.

As you and Ha-yi neared the back room, the buzz of chatter hit your ears. A wave of quiet washed over the room, but you kept your gaze straight in an effort to steel your nerves.

Nervous about speaking to the managers, you said in your head. Nervous about if I got promoted for promotion's sake, not because of anything else. Promotion, promotion, promotion, promotion—

If that was all you thought, then they couldn't possibly read anything else from you, right?

By the time you reached the managers’ office, you swore you could fill buckets with the sweat from your palms. You wiped them down on the sides of your dress, eying the gold sliver of light slicing into the hallway from beneath the door.

The door itself was a large slab of dark, polished wood. Two silver plates were drilled into its surface, reading Cheung Leon and Ly Caden, respectively.

Ha-yi gave a firm knock against its surface.

A muffled voice emerged from within, and Ha-yi replied by stating who she was and who she had with her.

When there came a second round of muffled voices, she nodded to you and opened the door.

Immediately, you held back from flinching at the smell of weed. There was a light, smoky film settled over the dimly lit room. It was rather spacious, with casual lounge seating and two large desks in different areas of the room. Something groovy, like jazz, filtered into the hazy air. Upon the two, L-shaped sofas at the center of the room sat only one man, of which you recognized as Cheung Leon of Cheung and Ly.

He was a sturdy man with broad shoulders and a pair of hands adorned in large, bejeweled rings. Even in the dim lighting, he had a pair of dark shades perched on his nose. He reminded you staunchly of the classic mobsters from several decades ago; all he needed was the over-the-top hat and leopard print suit.

He grinned from around his joint. “Ah! Well if it isn't my new star! Dolly, is it?”

“Dove,” Ha-yi coughed as she nudged the door closed with her foot.

“Dove!” He stood and opened his arms out wide in welcome. His eyes peered over the rim of his glasses, and you swore, you could feel them roll up the length of your body from the tips of your kitten heels to the hairs on your head.

You reined in a violent shiver, but plastered a smile on your face. The weed in the air was kind of helping, though you remained unnervingly alert.

“My,” he murmured with a smile that made you wish you owned a gun, “she is beautiful. Nice legs… very nice face. You've made quite a few men happy, little lady, including me. You know—with all the money you've raised, of course.”

When the urge to gag threatened to bubble out, you pretended to laugh. “All in a night's work, sir.”

Manager Cheung glanced over at Ha-yi. “I do like her. Why didn't we decide to make her a VIP girl sooner?”

“We weren't sure if Lilac would recover in time.”

“Bah! Cut her loose already! That dimwit has taken too many days off.” He turned on his heel and made his way back toward the couch. “You hear me, Ha-yi?”

Ha-yi nodded. “Right away, sir.”

Manager Cheung's smile returned to his face as he turned his attention back to you. You could feel your feet angling toward the door, ready to bolt, but you glued your heels to the floor. “Dove, come. Let's have a drink to celebrate!”

“I,” you coughed, “really shouldn't, sir. I don't think that would be very professional.”

Your heart dropped as his smile grew an edge. The shark had just flashed you his great whites, and they looked like they hurt. “It wouldn't be very professional for you to reject an innocent request from me, would it now?”

“Sir,” Ha-yi cut in, and suddenly, you could breathe again. “You haven't even told her what you are celebrating.”

The man blinked. “Oh! How silly of me. Well, if it wasn't obvious already, we would like you to join our VIP waitressing line.”

You smiled, inwardly pumping your fist at the ceiling and through this guy's teeth. “I would be honored, sir. When do I start?”

“Right to business,” he marveled. “We are hosting a very important meeting in two nights, with a handful of very important guests. You'll have to come in during daylight hours to train before then. Ha-yi will provide you with all the necessary details.”

“Understood.” You bit back a smile. Finally, a success that you could report back to Hongjoong—

“So,” Manager Cheung said, “how about that drink, hm? You know, this couch is incredibly comfortable, my dear. Do you like jazz?”

A bucket of cold water washed over you. “I, uhm, I do appreciate the invitation, sir, but—”

“Do you have a family you're providing for?” he asked airily before bringing the joint to his lips and inhaling deeply. A trail of smoke seeped from his mouth as he continued, “Or perhaps you enjoy luxury items? A string of pearls would look… divine around your neck.”

You stole a glance at Ha-yi, who looked about ready to say something herself. What did one do in this situation? Would he ruin any chance you had if you rejected his advances?

“I wouldn't be able to wake up in time for training if I spent more time here with you, sir,” you said sweetly. “I'm very eager to impress you even more with my performance on the VIP wait staff.”

You smiled, as pretty as you could manage, batting your eyelashes and folding your hands in front of you. All the while, every fiber of your being screamed to run.

The smoke was on the verge of suffocating you by the time he replied. A slow, appreciative smile curled onto his face. “I suppose I see your point. I'll look forward to your performance in two nights.”

Taking her chance, Ha-yi blurted a good-bye to her boss, then grabbed you by the arm to whisk you out of that hellhole.

The night was three drinks deep by the time you arrived on Hongjoong's doorstep.

Jungwon dropped you off as normal, and you waved good-bye to him briefly over your shoulder when the Captain hauled the warehouse door open. His silhouette against the lights inside made him into a lighthouse to the storm brewing in the horizon.

Or maybe that was from secondhand smoking. It wasn't your fault your only choice earlier had been to stop breathing or breathe exhaled weed air.

The sea breeze out here had been enough to clear your mind and lungs, at least. You couldn't be too sure about inhibitions, but you made it here, didn't you?

“Don't you ever bring pants?” were his greeting words to you as he fussed over the way your coat barely covered enough of your bare legs. “Aren't you ever cold?”

“I'm usually in the car the whole time anyway,” you said, dismissing his concerns. “I have good news though.”

He rested his hands on his hips. “It couldn't have been said in an email?”

“So you don't wanna see me?”

You had meant it as a joke, but the question seemed to stop him in his tracks. Heat crept up the back of your neck, spreading rapidly over your skin like a forest ablaze. “You don't have to answer that,” you chuckled, rubbing your arm.

He peered at you through his lashes. “Come on upstairs,” he said, nodding upward. He offered you his elbow, and you could have burst into a ball of flames then and there.

“I got it, by the way.” You held onto him as the pair of you made your way up the stairs. “I was promoted to the VIP line tonight.”

“If you think I ever doubted you—”

“You put a lot of faith in me,” you noted. “Not that I mind, it's just that, you're on someone's shit list, Joong.”

Hongjoong cocked an amused brow at you. “Am I on your shit list?”

“Not yet.”

You beamed at the sight of his smirk, the one he had to duck his head to hide, but couldn't suppress completely. Some mafia boss he made. For a second, it was way too easy to forget who he was.

He was just Hongjoong tonight, right now.

You cleared your throat. “I'm starting training right away—tomorrow morning, actually. Well, I guess it's this morning now. And the meeting is taking place in two nights,” you told him as he helped you onto the sofa.

“Drink?” he offered with a tip of bourbon decanter.

You shook your head. “I'm good, thanks.”

He set the glass down and settled on the edge of the table right in front of you, as always. Maybe it was the residual intoxication—was that how it worked?—but you swore his eyes grew even darker as he leaned over his knees just then.

“The DDC gave us a list of possible locations for Strictland's current base of operations,” he said. “Most of them didn't give us much, but we might have gotten something.”

You frowned. “Might have?”

He tilted his head to the side in a half shrug. “It's… something. Maybe. But you don't need to worry about that, dove; let's talk about you.”

I don't really wanna talk about me. The exhaustion was quickly seeping into your bones, water swimming up paper. He sounded like the rich, deep caramel notes of a bottle of bourbon. Didn't they say 'you are what you drink’ or something like that? “I guess whatever keeps you talking,” you blurted. “I like your voice.”

A low chuckle fell from his mouth and he closed the gap even further, but still not enough, to reach over and tap the space between your eyes. “I know you're tired, doll, so I'll make this quick.

“I know that we didn't get to talk about Chan fully, but he will be there at the meeting. He's on our side, so if something goes wrong with Jungwon—”

Your eyes shuddered. Should you tell him about Jungwon?

“—he’ll be there as a backup. Just focus on listening, but do what is expected of you for your job. But if”— he suddenly stopped himself, his mouth still open from the words he didn't push out through breath and sound.

It woke you up a little. “What?”

Hongjoong shook his head, and when you blinked, it was like nothing crossed his face. “Nothing.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You're not telling me something.”

“I just don't think it's something that is right to say now,” he replied, picking and stringing his words together carefully. “Aren't you supposed to be tired?”

“I'm tired, not blind,” you quipped and wrinkled your nose at him. “Does Seonghwa approve?”

“Does he ever?”

That made a giggle bubble out of your chest before you could stop it. You slapped a palm of your mouth, even if your eyes still narrowed into upturned crescents filled with mirth.

There was something in the way he looked at you then, chin resting in the palm of his hand.

Your pulse thrummed against your throat and you couldn't breathe again, but it wasn't because you were suffocating on secondhand smoke or nerves. This was something far more dangerous.

“Do you trust me?”

The question brought you back to the present. You sent him a strange look. “What do you mean?”

Hongjoong repeated the question.

You nodded. “I do.” Once upon a time, you would've said that it was against your better judgment.

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

Right. Your mind wandered to two nights from now, in the very near future. What role was Bang Chan going to play at this meeting? How would you know how to proceed with him if something went wrong with Jungwon?

And the latter—that was a can of worms on its own. Everytime you returned to this hesitation, you had to do backflips to convince yourself that Jungwon still had your back, one hundred percent. It was difficult to put your finger on it.

You felt a hand gently take your chin and bring your attention to the man in front of you. Hongjoong had a crease between his brows now, eyes roving over your facial expression. “Hey, what's wrong? What do I need to know?”

It's nothing. You shook your head, waving him off. “No, it's nothing,” you promised. “I'm just—it’s residual nerves.” You had become too good of a liar recently, but somehow, he could always see right through you.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Residual nerves still come from somewhere. Yn, what aren't you telling me?”

Perhaps you were making a mountain out of a molehill. Jungwon apologized, he seemed to be worried when you were being led by Ha-yi to the manager's office, and he hadn't abandoned you tonight. “Do you trust me?” you found yourself asking, fully aware that you were taking his exact road out.

“You're a sly one,” he grunted.

“I learn from the best.”

That made him break. “Agree to trust each other?” he said at last. He seemed resolved to leave it at that for the night, but part of you wished to believe he would have trusted you in any other context, too.

You didn't want to know what that meant, for him or for you.

You nodded. “Agree to trust each other.”

Before you left for the evening (truly, an ungodly hour of the morning, rather), you remembered the slim tube of lipstick stashed in your purse. You stood upon the threshold of the warehouse with Hongjoong, fishing the cosmetic out.

“I found this earlier today.” You demonstrated the pushing mechanism that turned on the red light.

Hongjoong's face flickered with light surprise. “Sakura didn't show you? Polaris is an investment for most people, so having a way to track down their lost or stolen item was built into the design,” he explained. He tapped the red light with the tip of his pointer finger, eyes still on you. “There's an app and code it comes with somewhere on the box, but I have it if you threw it out.”

You chuckled. “You have it, too?”

He smiled slightly, shrugging as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I did buy it for you, dove. Just promise you won't lose it.”

“I'll chain it to my wrist if I have to,” you said in partial jest.

“Atta girl.”

a/n: pls reblog if u enjoyed !

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sungbeam · 5 days ago