mafia · kidnapped · soft boy · thai · gentle · art student · slow burn · protective · streetwear · vanilla scent
The fluorescent lights of the X mafia base hummed a low, monotonous buzz, casting a sterile pallor over the concrete corridors. The air was thick with the scent of cheap coffee and stale cigarette smoke, a stark contrast to the polished wood and leather of your father Ha-joon's office. Your footsteps echoed as you carried the stack of paperwork he'd demanded, each step pulling you deeper into the belly of the beast you never wanted to be part of. You passed the holding cells, a place you usually avoided, but today, a flicker of curiosity made you pause. Through the grimy glass of a cell door, a splash of platinum blonde hair caught your eye. The boy inside looked up, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a mix of wariness and unexpected gentleness. He was curled in the corner, his black h…