Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bang Chan didn’t mean to get involved with the mafia.
He was just trying to finish his veterinary clinicals, eat enough to keep his brain working, and not pass out in front of his supervising doctor when assisting with surgery on a ten-pound chihuahua.

College life was stressful enough without being accused of stealing from one of the most dangerous men in the city.

But somehow, here he was. Sitting in a dark velvet booth, in the back of an upscale club that didn’t belong on this side of town, with his wrists gently — but undeniably — restrained in front of a man who hadn’t blinked since Chan walked in.

Lee Minho.

Rumors about him were whispered across the city like ghost stories: rich, ruthless, and utterly untouchable. People said he could make anyone disappear. That his men owned the docks, the alleys, and the cleanest parts of city council. Chan had never believed half of it.

Until now.

Minho looked… perfect. Suit pressed to cruel perfection, rings glinting on his fingers, eyes dark with calculation. He didn’t look like a killer — but he didn’t have to.

“Let me get this straight,” Minho murmured, voice calm as still water. “You don’t know what was in the briefcase. You don’t know how it got in your bag. And you’ve never even heard of Kang Jaesuk.”

Chan shook his head quickly, heart thudding.

“I swear,” he said, voice a little high, “I don’t even know what’s happening. I was on the bus, I dropped my backpack, and next thing I know your guys dragged me off the street!”

“Interesting,” Minho said, tilting his head.

“Because the security footage says otherwise. You were sitting across from Kang Jaesuk in the café. He got up, left. You left five minutes later. He hasn’t been seen since.”

Chan blinked, confused. “I was at the café because they have cheap refills and free Wi-Fi. I don’t know who that is. I just—I don’t—”

His voice cracked, and he hated himself for it. His eyes burned. This couldn’t be happening. He had class tomorrow. He had to feed the stray cats behind his building. He had a test on wound infection treatment for reptiles.

“Stop that,” Minho said suddenly.
Chan flinched. “W-What?”
“You’re going to cry,” Minho said, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t.”

“I’m not crying,” Chan sniffed.
“You’re trying not to,” Minho replied flatly. He stared at him for a long moment.

Then he leaned back, resting a ringed hand on the table, his expression unreadable.
Chan tried not to tremble.

Minho’s next words were slow, precise. “You’re either the world’s best liar… or the dumbest person Kang Jaesuk could’ve used as a scapegoat.”

“…I’m not lying,” Chan whispered. “But I guess the second part is true.”

Minho stared at him for a beat longer.
And then — to Chan’s shock — the mafia boss gave a faint sigh and snapped his fingers. The door opened instantly. Two suited men entered, awaiting orders.

“Let him go,” Minho ordered. “I want eyes on him. At all times. He’s not our thief… but he’s now connected. And I don’t trust coincidences.”

Chan was released, wrists red and heart still racing. He barely managed to breathe out a shaky, “Thank you—”

“Don’t thank me,” Minho interrupted coldly. “You’re still in danger, whether you like it or not. Someone used you. They’ll try again.”
He stood.
“And now you belong to me.”

A Week Later

Chan had never been shadowed by bodyguards before.

It was awkward, to say the least. The men — always two at a time — followed him to classes, trailed him to the grocery store, even waited outside the vet clinic. Every time he asked, “Is this really necessary?” they answered only, “Boss’s orders.”

He didn’t know why Lee Minho had taken such a personal interest in him. Maybe he didn’t like loose ends. Maybe Chan’s face just annoyed him.

But it didn’t feel like that.
Because sometimes — just sometimes — Minho would show up himself.

He never said much. Just observed from the corner, unreadable eyes tracking Chan’s every movement. Chan wasn’t sure if he was being protected… or evaluated.
But one thing was clear: the more Minho looked, the quieter he got.

One evening, Minho found Chan sitting on the curb feeding stray kittens after class.
He said nothing at first. Just stood there, suited and elegant, watching this innocent man with his scruffy hoodie, cooing at a calico with a hurt paw. Chan glanced up, surprised.

“I didn’t know you liked animals,” Minho said quietly.
Chan blinked. “I’m literally training to be a vet.”
“Right,” Minho murmured. “I thought it was a cover.”

Chan laughed despite himself. “It’s definitely not. I have the student loans to prove it.”
Something in Minho’s jaw eased. He crouched — slowly, carefully — beside Chan and looked at the calico kitten, who hissed.

“She doesn’t like people,” Chan explained. “Especially men.”

“She has good instincts,” Minho said with a faint smirk. “Though maybe not the best if she’s sitting near you.”

Chan wrinkled his nose. “Hey.”

Minho stared at him for a moment longer. Then, almost absently, reached forward to hand Chan a folded napkin from his coat pocket. There was a tiny smear of tuna juice on Chan’s cheek.

He froze at the soft touch.
“You always this messy?” Minho asked, voice low.
Chan flushed. “Only when I’m feeding cats, being stalked by bodyguards, or sitting next to scary men.”

Minho’s smirk grew.
“I’m not scary,” he said.
“You’re terrifying,” Chan muttered.
And then, for the first time since they met, Minho laughed. Quiet, breathy, real.

Three Weeks Later

Minho didn’t expect to get attached.
He never did. People lied. People used. People stole.

But Chan…

Chan fed strays and studied until he forgot to eat. He let Minho’s guards carry his textbooks without asking.

He apologized when people bumped into him. He treated Minho — the most feared man in the city — like he was just a guy with trust issues and bad sleeping habits.
Minho hated how often he thought about him.

Even more than that, he hated how good it felt when Chan smiled at him.
“You’re staring,” Chan said one afternoon, fidgeting with a pencil during lunch.
Minho didn’t deny it.
“You have tuna on your cheek again,” he said.

Chan blinked. “No, I don’t—”
Minho reached out, brushed his thumb across Chan’s cheekbone, and lingered there just a second too long.

The silence between them stretched.
“I could move to another city,” Chan said softly. “Start fresh. If the thief used me once, they’ll try again, right? Maybe I should just disappear.”

Minho’s jaw tightened.
“No,” he said, voice low. “No one touches what’s mine.”

Chan looked down at his lap. “You keep saying that…”
“I mean it.”
“Even if I was just… the wrong person in the wrong place?”

Minho exhaled sharply. “There’s no just when it comes to you.”
Chan’s eyes widened. “Why?”
Minho didn’t answer right away.
When he did, it was barely louder than a whisper.

“Because I’ve never met someone who makes me want to be the kind of man that deserves to be near you.”
Chan didn’t know what to say.
But his fingers found Minho’s on the table, and for once, Minho didn’t pull away.

It happened on a Monday.

Chan had just finished a long shift at the vet clinic, smelling faintly of antiseptic and cat pee, his feet aching as he stepped into the back alley shortcut between the subway and his apartment.

The guards Minho usually posted nearby had been pulled off for ten minutes — ten minutes — to handle a warehouse matter on the boss’s urgent request.

Ten minutes was all it took.
The van pulled up silently.

Before Chan could react, a black cloth was yanked over his face. A sharp blow landed at the base of his skull.
He gasped, tried to shout, but someone punched the air out of his lungs and slammed him into the wall. His head cracked against brick.

Hands grabbed him. A cable tie cinched around his wrists.
Then darkness.

He woke to pain.

Concrete floor. His ribs screaming. A filthy warehouse stinking of damp wood and old metal.

“You awake, sweetheart?” a voice sneered, far too close to his ear. “Your boyfriend’s been such a pain in our ass. But don’t worry. He’ll find you. He always does. And we’ve got something very special planned for when he gets here.”

Chan tried to lift his head. Blood dripped down his temple. His vision swam.

“I don’t even know you,” he croaked.
The man laughed. “You didn’t have to. You were just dumb enough to be useful. And cute enough for the boss to get soft over.”

That voice — Chan remembered it. The man from the alley, weeks ago. The one who’d planted the briefcase and nearly disappeared without a trace.

The thief.
Kang Jaesuk.

Chan’s stomach turned.

Jaesuk crouched in front of him. “He ruined my life, you know. Lee Minho. After I got caught, I lost everything. So now…” He grinned. “He loses you.”

Jaesuk raised his hand.
Chan flinched, already bracing for the blow —
When a loud crash rang out like thunder.
The warehouse door exploded inward.
Gunshots. Two. Then a third.

A scream.
Chan barely registered the blur of suits, the roar of footsteps, the unmistakable growl of Minho’s voice cutting through chaos.
Then silence.
Then —

“Where is he.”

Minho appeared in the doorway like death itself. His coat dark with rain, his gun still warm in his hand. His eyes found Chan in an instant.

The moment their eyes met, Chan’s throat tightened.
“Minho—”

But Minho had already moved.

He crossed the floor in three strides, knelt beside him, and with trembling hands, cut through the cable ties. Chan winced when Minho’s hands touched his sides.

“Broken?” Minho asked sharply.
“I think… two ribs. Maybe three.”
Minho turned his head. “Jeongin!” he barked. “Medical, now.”

Chan grabbed his sleeve. “He’s still here,” he whispered. “The thief. He—he said he wanted to make you suffer.”

Minho’s jaw clenched. Then, slowly, he turned.

Kang Jaesuk had tried to crawl behind a crate.

Minho stood. Walked toward him.

Chan tried to sit up, but the pain spiked. He watched helplessly as Minho reached Jaesuk, yanked him up by the collar, and slammed him into the nearest beam so hard it cracked.

“You put your hands on him?” Minho hissed. “You touched him?”
Jaesuk coughed blood, but grinned. “Cute little thing. You think he loves you back? You think someone like him could survive your world?”

Minho didn’t reply.
He just punched him.
Once.
Twice.
Again.

Each hit was brutal. Precise. Minho’s ring caught on Jaesuk’s cheekbone and split it open. Blood sprayed. Minho drove him into the floor. Knees on his chest. Knuckles to his ribs. The thud of flesh on flesh echoed like gunfire.

“Minho—!” Chan called out. “Stop—!”
Minho froze, chest heaving.

His fist was raised again. Jaesuk was wheezing, one eye swelling shut. His blood pooled beneath him.

“Please,” Chan said softly. “You’re not doing this for him. You’re doing it for me. Come back to me, okay?”

Minho’s hand trembled.

Then he dropped the man and stood, back turned to the broken body on the floor. He crossed to Chan again, crouched, and touched his face so gently it nearly broke Chan’s heart.

“You’re bleeding,” Minho said hoarsely.
“So are you,” Chan whispered. “Your knuckles.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”

For a long moment, they just looked at each other.

Then Minho took off his coat and wrapped it around Chan’s shoulders. “You’re never walking alone again,” he said quietly. “Not even to the kitchen. Not until I burn this city to the ground to make it safe for you.”

Chan let out a wet laugh, tears slipping down his bruised cheek. “That sounds a little extreme.”
“I will kill the next person who even breathes near you the wrong way.”

“I know,” Chan whispered, clutching the coat tighter. “But you didn’t kill him. For me.”
Minho was silent for a moment. Then:
“You’re the only reason I have left not to become a monster.”

That Night

Minho didn’t take Chan to a hospital.
He took him home.
Their home.

The penthouse was quiet. Warm. Filled with the smell of tea and antiseptic.
Chan lay curled up on the couch with a blanket tucked around him and Minho seated beside him, eyes never leaving his face.

“You scared me,” Minho admitted finally, voice low.
“I was scared too,” Chan whispered.
“I’ve always known who I was. What I’m capable of. But when I couldn’t find you, I—” Minho broke off. “I’ve burned buildings. Taken lives. But nothing’s ever terrified me like that silence.”

Chan reached for his hand.
Minho let him.
“I’m not leaving,” Chan murmured. “Even after everything. You’re scary. And complicated. But you’re mine.”
Minho closed his eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”
Chan gave a tired smile. “Too bad. You’ve got me anyway.”

Chapter Text

Chan was many things — intelligent, caring, brave when it mattered.
But coordinated?
Not so much.

“Alright,” Minho said patiently, standing behind him on the private training mat in his penthouse gym. “Elbow up. Feet shoulder-width apart. That’s good. Now pivot with your back foot.”

Chan wobbled.

His foot skidded awkwardly on the mat, and the entire force of his body went sideways. He collapsed into Minho’s chest with a squeaky “Sorry!”

Minho blinked. “That was… not a pivot.”
“I tripped on air,” Chan mumbled into his shirt.
Minho sighed — not with annoyance, but with deep existential dread.

He pushed Chan upright gently. “Let’s try again. This time: don’t attack the floor. It’s not the enemy.”
“I don’t think I have enemies,” Chan muttered. “Except gravity.”
Minho gave him a flat look.

“You were kidnapped, Channie.”
“Right. But if it happens again, I’ll just throw a kitten at them. Works every time.”
Minho stared at him.
Chan gave a sheepish grin.
Minho turned and walked away for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Twenty Minutes Later
“Alright,” Minho said, as if speaking to a very cute but easily confused golden retriever. “Let’s move on to the basics of knife disarming.”

Chan perked up. “Ooh, like movies?”

“No,” Minho said firmly. “Like not dying.”

He handed Chan a blunt training knife. Chan turned it around the wrong way and almost poked himself in the eye.

Minho flinched.

“…Give me that,” he muttered, gently plucking it away. “We’ll come back to weapons later. Maybe in another year. Or lifetime.”
Chan pouted. “I just need practice!”
“You need supervision. And bubble wrap.”

Ten Minutes After That

“Try punching this.” Minho held up a padded mitt.
Chan took a deep breath. “Okay. Serious now.”
“Good. Aim for the center. Elbow in.
Controlled—”

Chan’s punch was a hopeful blur of flailing limbs and squeaky noises. He missed the mitt and socked himself in the knee.

“ARGH—!”

Minho stared at him.

Chan sat on the mat holding his leg, wincing. “I’m not cut out for violence,” he whimpered. “My people are cats. And hedgehogs.”

Minho slowly crouched down beside him.
His voice was quiet. “You really can’t fight, can you?”

Chan looked up with the saddest eyes.
“…No.”
Minho closed his eyes, inhaling sharply. “Jesus Christ.”

Later That Night

Minho sat in his office, staring blankly at the glass of whiskey on his desk, trying to reconcile two realities:

1. He was the most feared man in the city, and
2. His boyfriend once got injured putting a hoodie on backwards.

Chan was so soft.
So heartbreakingly good.

And the world was full of men who wouldn’t care. Men who would hurt him without hesitation. Who wouldn’t stop at bruises.

Minho’s hand trembled slightly.
He didn’t feel fear often. But tonight?
Tonight, it was curled in his stomach like poison.

There was a knock on the door.
Chan stepped in, now changed into Minho’s oversized shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks with ducks on them.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “I know I was a disaster today.”
Minho looked up, jaw clenched. “You weren’t.”

“I was,” Chan said honestly. “I almost cried when I punched that bag wrong.”
Minho huffed softly. “I noticed.”
Chan padded across the room and curled up in the seat beside him. “I’m not a fighter, Minho.”

“I know.”

“But I’ll try,” he said earnestly, grabbing Minho’s hand. “Because I know you’re scared. And I don’t want to be a weakness.”
Minho looked at him, sharply. “You’re not a weakness.”

Chan smiled. “No? You didn’t look so sure earlier.”
“You’re the only thing in this world I can’t lose,” Minho admitted, voice raw. “And that makes you my only weakness. That doesn’t mean you’re weak.”

Silence fell.

Then Chan reached up and kissed the corner of Minho’s mouth, feather-light.
“I’ll keep trying. But just… don’t expect me to become John Wick overnight.”
Minho gave a soft, exhausted laugh. “You can barely throw a punch without apologizing to the air.”

Chan puffed his cheeks. “I’m sensitive!”
Minho reached over, tucking Chan’s hair behind his ear, then leaned forward and rested their foreheads together.

“I’ll protect you,” he whispered. “Even if you never land a single punch. I’ll protect you until the world forgets how to breathe without permission.”

Chan melted into him.

And Minho — cold, cruel, feared Minho — exhaled against the curve of his shoulder like maybe, just maybe, holding something that fragile was worth risking everything.

A few weeks later Minho decides he’s going to introduce chan to his friends and mafia workers.

“You’re bringing them?”

Minho’s voice was already tight before they’d even left the penthouse.

Chan, standing in front of the mirror and adjusting his soft cardigan, looked over with a smile. “Yes, I’m bringing them. You’re introducing me to your friends. It’s only fair I bring mine.”

“They’re not friends, they’re operatives,” Minho muttered. “And deadly.”

“Exactly,” Chan said brightly. “So they’ll love Jisung, Hyunjin, and Felix!”

Minho stared at him.

“You want to introduce Jeongin, Seungmin, and Changbin — three people who once burned down a black-market auction house — to a fashion student, a barista who does pole fitness, and a theater dropout who still carries glitter in his shoes?”

Chan beamed. “Yup.”
Minho looked to the heavens like he was trying to summon patience from the gods.

That Evening

The meeting point was a private lounge Minho owned downtown. The walls were black velvet, the drinks expensive, and the only people allowed inside were either family… or family-adjacent.

Chan bounced on his toes beside Minho as the doors opened and the first group entered.

Jeongin came first — tall, sharp, and terrifyingly calm, dressed in black with gloves he never removed.
Seungmin followed, all dry smirks and calculating eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses.
Then Changbin, the muscle — grinning like a wolf, broad-shouldered in a suit that probably concealed a dozen weapons.

“Minho,” Jeongin greeted. “Is this the civilian?”

Chan gave a nervous wave. “Hi…”

Before Minho could respond, the other doors burst open.

“CHANNIEEEEEE!”
Felix launched himself into Chan’s arms like a koala, glitter eyeliner already smudging his cheeks.

Hyunjin sauntered in next, silk scarf fluttering, eyes immediately scanning the room like it offended him.
Jisung bounced behind them, somehow holding a boba tea and two phone chargers.

Jeongin blinked. “What the hell—”

“Oh my God,” Hyunjin said loudly, turning to Jeongin.

“Is that a leather vest? Is this a gangster movie? Where’s Al Pacino?”

“Do you want to keep your teeth?” Jeongin asked politely.

Jisung gasped. “He’s hot when he’s threatening people—”

“Jisung!” Chan hissed.
Minho sat down and put his face in his hands.

The Clash

Twenty minutes later, there was… tension.
Hyunjin was insulted by the lighting.
Seungmin was quietly judging everyone’s IQ.
Changbin and Jisung were arguing over the best kind of noodles.
Felix had somehow ended up on Jeongin’s lap while showing him cat memes.
Minho looked like he was about to fake a phone call and disappear for the rest of his life.

But Chan?
Chan was glowing.
“These are all my favorite people,” he sighed dreamily.
Minho peeked through his fingers. “Your best friend is cuddling my deadliest sniper.”

“I know!” Chan grinned. “I’m so proud.”
At the far end of the lounge, Jeongin was stiff as a statue while Felix braided a pastel ribbon into his hair.

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “Is this… normal behavior for your group?”
Chan shrugged. “Depends. Want to see Hyunjin’s impersonation of a mafia boss?”
“No—”
Hyunjin stood up dramatically. “I own the city,” he announced in a deep voice, draping himself over the back of Changbin’s chair.

“Fear me, for I wear dramatic suits and unresolved trauma.”
Changbin actually wheezed. “Yo, that’s scarily accurate.”

Minho pinched the bridge of his nose again. “I will have them all buried in silk-lined coffins if they keep this up.”

Chan kissed his cheek. “You love them.”
“I tolerate them. For you.”
“Same thing.”

The Soft Turn
Later in the night, when the chaos calmed down and snacks were being passed around, Minho stood beside Chan at the bar, watching their worlds mingle like oil and water somehow managing to dance.

Felix was showing Jeongin how to take cute selfies.
Seungmin was being slowly charmed by Jisung’s chaotic genius.
Changbin and Hyunjin were in the middle of a heated debate about underground art auctions and drag shows.

“See?” Chan whispered. “They’re getting along.”
Minho looked at him.
“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmured. “You bring softness into places meant for shadows.”

Chan rested his head on Minho’s shoulder.
“And you let me.”
For a moment, Minho didn’t reply. Then he turned and kissed Chan’s temple, right between the curls.
“I don’t let you,” he said. “You just do it anyway. And somehow, I’m better for it.”

They met the next day.
None of them planned to.
But at exactly 2:00 PM, Jeongin, Seungmin, and Changbin walked into a private booth at the lounge expecting a meeting with each other — only to find Felix sitting cross-legged on the velvet couch, Jisung halfway through a cold brew with oat milk, and Hyunjin practicing wrist spins with a silver straw like it was a performance prop.

Jeongin stopped in the doorway.
“…Why are you here?”
Hyunjin didn’t even look up. “Because someone said ‘we need to talk about Chan’ in a group chat. And if it’s about my best friend, I’m here.”

Seungmin looked suspicious. “How did you get invited to the group chat?”

Jisung raised his hand. “That might’ve been me.”

Changbin squinted. “Why?”

Jisung sipped his drink dramatically. “Because I don’t trust people who wear gun holsters and call my best friend ‘civilian’ like he’s an unpaid intern.”

Felix beamed from the couch. “Also, I thought it’d be cute if we made a pact.”
Jeongin blinked. “A what?”

Ten Minutes Later

By some miracle — and Hyunjin threatening to walk out twice — all six were seated around the low-lit booth.

Jeongin, still in black.
Seungmin, expression unreadable.
Changbin, arms folded, biceps tense.
Felix, glitter cheeks and sunshine smile.
Jisung, somehow doodling Chan’s name in his notes.
Hyunjin, spinning a straw like a baton, one leg crossed high over the other.

“I think we need to be honest,” Seungmin said finally, cutting through the awkward tension like a knife. “Chan is too good for this world.”

“Agreed,” Jisung said instantly. “He's so soft he thanks Siri.”

“He cries at dog food commercials,” Felix added.

“He once tried to patch a bullet wound with Hello Kitty band-aids,” Jeongin muttered.

Everyone turned.

“…What?” Hyunjin asked, eyes wide.

Jeongin sighed. “It was Minho’s shoulder. He said the cartoon made it less scary.”

Changbin thumped the table. “That’s IT. We need a pact.”

“I’m in,” said Hyunjin without hesitation.

“Anyone hurts him, they bleed.”
Jisung raised his hand. “Stab or emotional sabotage?”

“Both,” said Seungmin calmly. “Simultaneously.”

Felix nodded, serious for once. “I know people. Theatre people. We can ruin reputations and do jazz hands at their funeral.”

The Pact Was Made

They drafted it on a napkin.
1. Protect Chan at all costs.
2. Anyone who makes him cry must disappear.
3. If he ever says "please don’t hurt them," we’ll wait until he’s not looking.
4. Minho is allowed to remain his boyfriend under supervision.
5. If Minho ever breaks his heart—

“I’ll kill him,” Jeongin said plainly.

“Same,” said Hyunjin. “But I want to go first.”
Jisung was tearing up. “This is the most beautiful mafia-meets-art-school alliance I’ve ever seen.”

“Don’t cry,” Felix said, petting his hair. “You’re too pretty.”

Seungmin, somehow smiling faintly, lifted his drink.
“To Chan,” he said.

“To Chan,” they chorused — six wildly different people, united only by how violently and protectively they loved one blushing vet student with poor spatial awareness and the world’s softest heart.

Minho Arrives

“Am I interrupting a coup?”
Minho’s voice cut through the air as he stepped into the booth, arms folded.

They all froze.

Jeongin narrowed his eyes. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to hear Hyunjin say he wants to go first,” Minho deadpanned.

Hyunjin didn’t even blink. “I stand by it.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “You do know I could have you all removed from the country?”

“Try it,” Seungmin said flatly.
Felix smiled. “You’re just scared because you know we love him more.”
Minho’s jaw ticked. “No one loves him more than I do.”

“Prove it,” Jisung challenged.
Minho leaned forward, voice low. “I wake up every morning terrified that someone like him chose someone like me. And I swear, if anything happens to him — anything at all — this entire city will drown.”

There was a pause.

Then Jeongin offered him a pen.
“…Sign the pact.”
Minho blinked. “You’re serious?”
Felix shoved the napkin toward him. “Sign it, or go home without cake.”

Minho hesitated.
Then he picked up the pen and signed:
Minho — boyfriend, problem, solution.

One Minute Later
The doors burst open.
“Hi everyone!!” Chan called out cheerfully, carrying a pastry box so big he had to balance it on one knee.

“I brought cake! I got matcha for Jeonginnie, strawberry shortcake for Felix, earl grey for Seungmin, chocolate for Jisung, lemon for Binnie, and…” He held up a separate box with a proud smile. “Tiramisu for Minho because he always pretends he doesn’t want dessert but finishes mine every time.”

Minho melted.
Instantly.

“Hi baby,” he said softly.
Chan looked around. “Wait, why is everyone staring? Did I miss something?”
Felix wrapped an arm around him. “Nope. Nothing at all. We were just discussing how lucky we are.”

Jisung wiped his eyes. “You're perfect.”
Hyunjin took the cake box. “You’re the reason violence and ballet can coexist.”

Jeongin muttered, “I’ll kill for you.”
Chan blinked. “That’s… nice?”
Minho just pulled him close and kissed the top of his head.

“You have no idea,” he murmured. “You’ve created something terrifying.”

Chan giggled. “Aw, you’re all bonding!”
Behind him, six dangerous, chaotic, glitter-dusted people exchanged nods of absolute war-level commitment.
And Chan just hummed, handing out forks like sunshine could stop bullets

Chapter Text

Bang Chan was trying to make cookies.
He had flour on his nose, soft music playing in the background, and a peaceful little hum in his throat.

Then the yelling started.

“OBVIOUSLY we’re the most responsible couple here—”
“Excuse me, you just threatened to poison a landlord—”
“Felix licked a knife yesterday and Jeongin let him!”
“IT WAS CLEAN!”
“You’re all insane—”
“Seungmin, back me up!”
“Absolutely not.”
Chan turned around with a spoon in his hand. “Minho, what’s going on?”
Minho, who was slumped on the kitchen island with the look of a man suffering emotionally in silence, didn’t even glance up. “They’re fighting over who gets to be your honorary parents.”

Chan blinked. “My what?”
Jeongin strode into the kitchen, deadly serious. “You’re the heart of this group. Every mafia has a hierarchy. And someone needs to be your metaphorical parental unit.”
“We’re already dating,” Minho said flatly. “I am the adult in this scenario.”
“You don’t count,” Seungmin said. “You cry when Chan gets the hiccups.”
“I DO NOT—”
“You teared up, Minho.”
“HE WAS IN DISTRESS.”

The pairings happened quietly.

Changbin and Hyunjin started dating after a mutual dare turned into a real kiss — and then turned into Changbin building Hyunjin a custom pole setup in his private gym while Hyunjin called him “my warrior king” for three days straight.

Jeongin and Felix surprised everyone. One day they were threatening each other over poker, the next they were kissing behind Chan’s back while pretending they weren’t holding hands under the table.

Seungmin and Jisung?
No one even knew they were a thing until Seungmin casually slapped Jisung’s thigh during a movie night and Jisung melted like ice cream in August.
Now the couples were… competitive.
About everything.
Including who got to be the parental authority for their beloved cinnamon roll of a vet student.

The Debate
“I have an espresso machine, a first aid kit, and a calendar,” Hyunjin declared proudly. “We are clearly the most prepared for parenthood.”

“You nearly adopted a stray raccoon,” Jeongin said.

“It was a vibe!”

Jeongin narrowed his eyes. “Felix calls every bruise ‘a lesson from the universe.’ We’re spiritual. Connected. Emotionally enlightened.”

“You once googled ‘how to braid hair’ while Felix had a concussion.”

“It worked.”

Seungmin didn’t even stand. “We have real life balance. I cook. He cleans. I handle emotions. He explodes them.”
Jisung nodded proudly. “I make soup and chaos.”

Chan finally stepped in. “Okay! Okay, wait—so this is actually a thing now?”
Six people turned and stared at him, faces full of devotion.

“You’re our Chan,” Felix said softly.
“And we take our roles seriously,” Jeongin added.

Chan turned to Minho, panicked. “Please help me.”
Minho held up a finger. “Nope. I’m staying out of it. You pick your ‘parents.’ I’m going to lie down before I commit emotional homicide.”

The Trials
So… they made a game out of it.
Chan and Minho created three challenges:
1. The Calm Challenge: Keep Chan calm while baking under stress.
2. The Logic Challenge: Help Chan solve an emotional problem with reason.
3. The Cuteness Challenge: Convince Chan (and Minho) you’d be the most comforting presence if he had a bad day.

Round One: Baking with Chan
Hyunjin threw flour in the air like a ballet.
Changbin panicked and caught a hot tray with his bare hands.
Felix narrated everything in song.
Jeongin silently reorganized the pantry.

Seungmin calmly helped Chan sift flour while Jisung licked the spoon and gave Chan unsolicited motivational quotes like, “Every cookie is a new beginning.”

Minho watched them from the couch, sipping wine like he was judging a war tribunal.

Round Two: Logic Challenge
Chan role-played a sad puppy emergency.
Everyone spiraled except Seungmin.
“Take a breath,” he told Chan. “Assess the situation. Now let’s make a plan.”
Jisung handed Chan tissues without a word and just sat next to him while Chan sniffled through the story of the “hypothetical sick puppy.”
Minho actually muttered, “Damn,” under his breath.

Round Three: The Cuteness Test
Jeongin offered to build Chan a safe house.
Hyunjin did a pole routine with a stuffed bunny strapped to his chest.
Felix wrote a song called “Chan Is the Light of Our Life.”

But Seungmin?
He knelt beside Chan and put his hand on his. “We don’t need to say anything. You’re loved. Always. End of story.”

Jisung brought out a tiny plush wolf with a vet coat stitched to it. “This is Dr. Fluff. He's here when we can't be.”
Minho choked on his wine.

The Decision
It was close. Too close.

But Chan finally stood up, a hand on his chest.
“The winners… are Seungmin and Jisung.”
Jisung immediately screamed and tackled Seungmin to the floor.
Seungmin grunted. “I knew we’d win.”
Hyunjin looked devastated. Changbin hugged him. “It’s okay, babe. We still have our pole and trust issues.”
Felix pouted. Jeongin whispered, “We’ll be godparents. Let them have the taxes.”

That Night
Minho wrapped an arm around Chan’s waist and kissed his cheek.
“Happy with your fake parents?”
Chan nodded. “They’ll be strict, but fair.”
“They’ve already made you a chore chart.”
“I saw.”
“And Seungmin changed your calendar to include flu shot reminders.”
“I know.”
Minho sighed. “I love you.”
Chan smiled up at him. “I know.”

Things were fine until a few weeks after.

It started with a whisper.

Jisung heard it first — an overheard phone call. Something about “coordinates” and “no backup.” He didn’t think much of it until he walked into the hallway at 1 a.m. and saw Jeongin handing Minho a new set of tactical gloves, both men whispering like they were in a spy movie.

By morning, Felix had “accidentally” gone through Jeongin’s laptop and confirmed the worst.
The four most dangerous people in their group — Minho, Changbin, Seungmin, and Jeongin — were planning a mission.

A dangerous, secretive, suicidal mission.

And none of them told the others.

Not even Chan.

The Betrayal
The six of them gathered in the living room like an emergency summit.
Chan stood in the middle, hands shaking, holding the printed map he’d found tucked in Minho’s desk.

“You weren’t going to tell me?” he whispered.
Minho opened his mouth.
“You weren’t going to tell me?” Chan said louder, voice cracking.

Hyunjin stood in the corner like a furious Greek statue.
Jisung was literally vibrating.
Felix was polishing a bat with glitter nail polish and pure malice.

Seungmin, ever the tactician, tried to explain. “It was a one-night raid. Quick, efficient. We didn’t want to worry anyone.”

“You lied to me,” Chan said softly. “All four of you. You were going to walk into danger and just not come back one day?What, I’d find out over breakfast?”

Minho looked away.

That was his first mistake.

Chan walked over, reached behind the couch, and pulled out something unexpected:
Rope. And a clipboard.

Jisung blinked. “Wait. Is he—?”

“Oh my God,” Hyunjin breathed. “He's snapping.”

Operation: Tie Down the Idiots
“No one is leaving this house,” Chan said coldly. “Not until you all promise not to go.”

Minho stood up, trying to reassert control. “Chan, we’re not—”

“Sit. Down.” Chan pointed at the couch with the clipboard. “You’re not the boss here today.”

And for once in his life, Minho sat.

Chan turned to Jeongin. “Chair. Now.”
Jeongin hesitated — then obeyed.

One by one, Chan physically tied down the four most terrifying men in the building. He looped rope around their waists and wrists, tying them to furniture with frightening precision.

Hyunjin passed him a safety knot tutorial mid-task. Felix offered ribbons to “make it cute.” Jisung brought snacks.

Minho stared at his own wrist in disbelief.
“I… how did you even—”
“You taught me,” Chan said sweetly. “You said I needed to defend myself. So I learned. And I started with you.”

The Threats
Chan stood in front of them like a furious angel in a pastel jumper, arms crossed.
“You don’t get to scare me,” he said quietly. “Not like this. Not when I finally have people who love me.”

“We were trying to protect—” Changbin started.

“You think I’m scared of danger? I’ve seen Jeongin make coffee with a knife. I’ve watched Seungmin eat hot soup while dead-eyed texting death threats. You think that’s what scares me?”

He pointed at Minho.

“What scares me is waking up next to an empty bed and finding out you left me behind.”

The room went silent.

Minho lowered his head.

“Channie…” he whispered. “I didn’t want to burden you. I thought—”

“No,” Chan said, voice shaking. “You don’t get to carry everything alone. That’s not love. That’s fear dressed up as control.”

Even Jeongin flinched.

“From now on,” Chan said firmly, “you tell us. All of us. You let us be your family. Or I swear, I’ll tie you to a vet table and give you weekly flea baths.”

“…He means it,” Jisung whispered.
“I do.”

The Aftermath
Ten minutes later, all four men were free.
Not because they escaped — but because Chan let them go after extracting handwritten apologies and a group selfie labeled “The Four Dumbest Men Alive.”
Minho stood in the kitchen, holding Chan like he was breakable glass.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t know how much I needed you until I saw you standing over me with rope and glitter threats.”

Chan snorted against his chest. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“I’m serious. I would’ve walked into that warehouse last night like I had nothing to lose. But I do. I have you. And now I know you’re stronger than all of us combined.”
Chan smiled, warm and proud. “Damn right I am.”

Chapter Text

“You’re in charge while I’m gone.”
Minho's words rang through the penthouse like a promise. Or maybe a threat.

Chan blinked from the couch where he was cuddling a cat in a sweater. “Wait… seriously?”

Minho zipped up his sleek travel bag and turned to face him, stern. “Only for two days. I have to meet with an overseas syndicate and settle that Bangkok deal.”

Chan sat up straighter. “So, like, I’m the boss while you’re away?”

“Temporarily.”

“I have full authority?”

Minho hesitated. “…Yes.”

Chan grinned.

Minho stared.
“Channie,” he said slowly, walking over. “You’re not planning anything, right?”

Chan looked up at him with big eyes. “Me? Never.”

Minho squinted. “You’re smiling too much.”

“I always smile when my powerful mafia boyfriend says he trusts me.”

Minho groaned, kissed his forehead, and muttered, “God help this house.”

Day One: Chaos Unleashed
By 10 a.m., Chan had changed the group chat name to:

“🐣✨Chan’s Kingdom of Cuties✨🐣”

By 12 p.m., all meetings were canceled and replaced with “mandatory friendship activities.”

By 2 p.m., Jeongin was wearing eyeliner, Seungmin had glitter on his face, and Changbin was being force-fed lemon tea while Hyunjin painted his nails.

“This isn’t protocol,” Seungmin muttered.

“This is love,” Chan declared, tossing him a kitten-shaped headband.

“I hate this.”

“You look beautiful.”

Jisung brought out rainbow cupcakes. “For morale!”

Felix played spa music over the house speakers. “Minho would want us to practice self-care.”

Meanwhile… Overseas

Minho sipped an espresso, glancing at the tracker on his phone.

It pinged with updates:
* Jisung bought glitter glue in bulk
* Felix placed a sushi order for 15
* Changbin… entered a yoga class?

Minho narrowed his eyes.

Something was wrong.

Day Two: Full Tyranny

Chan called a house-wide meeting at 8 a.m.
He wore Minho’s black dress shirt (clearly stolen), fuzzy socks, and a silk tie like a crown.

“We are gathered here today to embrace peace, love, and hydration,” he announced from the throne — which was just Minho’s armchair with a cat on it.

Everyone clapped.

“Today’s agenda includes a group cuddle, macarons at 3 p.m., and karaoke at 6. There will be no weapons, no frowning, and no serious talks unless it involves my new robe collection.”

Jeongin whispered to Felix, “Do we stop him?”

Felix whispered back, “He’s so powerful. He cannot be contained.”

Hyunjin was already braiding Jisung’s hair.

Seungmin adjusted his glitter glasses and muttered, “He’s lost it. We’ve lost him.”

Chan pointed dramatically. “Seungmin, that sounds like doubt. Go think about what you’ve done in the affection corner.”

Seungmin was dragged off by Jisung, who said, “It’s warm in there. I added pillows.”

The Return of the King

Minho walked into the penthouse 12 hours early.

And stopped.

Dead.

Felix was painting Jeongin’s nails.
Hyunjin was leading Changbin in a yoga pose called “cosmic surrender.”
Seungmin was sipping tea from a cat mug while Jisung rested his head in his lap.
Soft jazz was playing. There were pastel banners. The air smelled like cookies.

And in the center of it all:
Chan.

Wearing Minho’s tie like a sash, perched on the coffee table, giggling as he tried to balance a macaron on his head while the others clapped and cheered.
Minho blinked.

Chan looked up mid-macaron.
“...Oh no.”

The Reckoning

Everyone went dead silent.

Felix froze mid-pose.
Changbin dropped a glitter yoga mat.
Hyunjin gasped dramatically.
Seungmin physically hid behind a plant.

Minho raised a brow. “What the hell happened here?”
Chan stood up like a man on trial. “I… kept the peace?”
“Is that my tie?”
Chan tried a smile. “You said I was in charge.”

Minho walked slowly toward him, suit still crisp from travel, expression unreadable.
“I left you in charge of one house for two days.”

“You said—”

“I said temporarily.”

Chan took a step back.
The macaron fell off his head.
Minho caught it before it hit the floor.
Then popped it in his mouth.

“…Not bad.”

The room exhaled.

But Minho’s eyes were still locked on Chan. Dangerous. Amused.

“You’re in so much trouble,” he said softly.
Chan blushed. “Worth it?”
Minho smiled — dark and sharp and entirely in love.

“Ask me again after I remind you who the real boss is.”
Chan squeaked.

Felix clapped. “Ten bucks says he carries Chan off in under a minute.”
“He’ll scream,” Hyunjin added dreamily. “But cutely.”
Seungmin sighed. “Someone hide the karaoke mic.”

A few months later.

“I’m ready,” Chan announced with pride.
Minho blinked from across the room. “Ready for what?”
“To be involved. To prove I can handle real mafia business. Like… the actual jobs.”

“You fainted when I caught a cold.”

“That was once,” Chan pouted. “And I’m a vet student. I’ve seen open wounds. I’ve stitched a goat.”

Minho slowly closed his eyes. “You stitched… a goat.”
Chan beamed. “She’s doing great.”

Elsewhere in the House

Hyunjin stood in front of a mirror, smearing black eyeliner under his eyes like war paint.
Felix adjusted his leather harness backwards.
Jisung added gel to his hair while whispering, “Alpha mode. Dangerous. Sharp. Rawr.”

They had all heard what Chan was doing.
And they weren’t about to be left behind.

“We are not just cuddly accessories to criminals,” Hyunjin declared.
“We’re strong,” said Felix, flexing his bicep and kissing it. “Dangerous.”

“We can be taken seriously,” Jisung nodded, practicing a glare in the mirror that looked more like he needed to sneeze.
And thus: Operation “Make Our Partners Regret Babying Us” began.

The Setup

Minho, Changbin, Jeongin, and Seungmin — who were already on edge about letting their sunshine squad anywhere near danger — finally relented under begging and pouting and promises to “just observe.”

So they took them to a secure warehouse for a low-risk negotiation, no weapons drawn, just business talk.
No one told them there would be blood samples, knives on display, and shouting.
Oops.

First Casualty: Felix

Everything was fine.

Until one of the guards got a nosebleed from the heat.
Felix saw the blood…
And went full Bambi-in-a-thunderstorm.
“Oh my God—”
Jeongin reached out—too late.

Felix collapsed into his arms like a swooning Victorian lady. Eyes fluttering, sparkles still somehow perfect.
“He’s out,” Jeongin confirmed, lifting him bridal style. “He saw blood again.”

Second Casualty: Hyunjin

A man tracked in mud. That was it.
Just mud.
But Hyunjin was wearing suede boots.
And when the mud got close to the negotiation table, his knees gave out.

“Oh no—” Changbin rushed to catch him before he slid dramatically to the floor.
“My dignity—” Hyunjin whispered, eyes closed.
“It’s still beautiful,” Changbin assured him, already wiping his boots.

Third Casualty: Jisung

Jisung was doing so well.
Until he tripped and broke a nail on a crate.
“NO—”
Seungmin caught him mid-scream.
“Breathe.”
“I trained for this—”
“It’s literally a scratch.”
“It’s a setback to my entire character arc—”
Seungmin just sighed and lowered him to a chair.

“Anyone else?” he asked dryly.
Then a gunshot echoed—just one, far off in the alley, not even aimed at them.
Minho turned instantly. “Who fired—”
And behind him—

Thump.

Chan was on the ground.
Flat.
Unconscious.

The Fallout

Ten minutes later, the “Mature Mafia Mission” was over.
Minho held Chan in his lap in the car, arms wrapped tight around him. “He didn’t even flinch at blood. But one gunshot?”

Jeongin drove with one hand, the other stroking Felix’s hair where he was curled up in the passenger seat, mumbling about glitter therapy.

Changbin had Hyunjin draped across his back like a fancy shawl.
Jisung sat in Seungmin’s lap, holding an ice pack to his hand.

No one spoke until Chan stirred.
“…Is everyone okay?” he mumbled.
Minho almost sobbed. “You’re the one who fainted.”
“I was doing so well…”
“You were perfect,” Minho whispered. “Just… maybe stick to stitching goats.”

Chan blinked up at him, then grinned weakly. “Still more helpful than Jisung’s rawr face.”
“I HEARD THAT,” Jisung yelled from the back.

That Night

They all ended up in the penthouse’s largest bed — eight people, one blanket, one very traumatized mafia team.

Minho held Chan like he was made of glass.
“You still want to help?”
Chan nodded against his chest. “I do. But maybe… not when loud noises are involved.”
“Done,” Minho said, kissing his curls. “You can be in charge of snacks and therapy.”
“Deal.”

Hyunjin mumbled something about spa guns.
Felix asked if glitter counted as a weapon.
Jisung demanded a rematch against gravity.

And somewhere in the chaos, Seungmin updated the emergency protocol board to read:
DO NOT LET THEM PROVE ANYTHING. EVER AGAIN.

Chapter Text

The mission was simple:
A peaceful, relaxing beach group date.

No guns.
No warehouses.
No mafia meetings.
Just sand, sun, and the world’s most ridiculous collection of couples.
Minho, Changbin, Jeongin, and Seungmin had no idea what was coming.

10:00 AM — Arrival

Felix arrived in pastel pink swim shorts and glitter SPF, immediately doing twirls on the sand.
Jeongin choked on his own breath. “Why are your shoulders out—why is this legal—”

Hyunjin took off his cover-up to reveal a mesh crop top and rhinestone-studded swim trunks.
Changbin dropped the cooler. “I—I’m not breathing. I forgot how.”

Jisung came bouncing over in a striped tank, sunglasses, and a permanent wink.
Seungmin’s mouth twitched. “Don’t start—”
“I brought snacks, sunblock, and sex appeal,” Jisung chirped.
Seungmin short-circuited.

And then…
Chan.

Wearing a light blue oversized shirt (Minho’s, definitely stolen), with the hem dancing just below his thighs, hair soft and fluffy from the ocean breeze, cheeks already pink from sun.

Minho didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Just watched him like the tide had carried heaven onto the shore.

“You okay?” Chan asked sweetly, tilting his head.
Minho replied: “I want to get you pregnant.”
Chan blinked. “I—what?”
“I mean—sandcastle. I meant sandcastle.”
“…Sure you did.”

11:45 AM — Simp Status: Activated

Felix spread a towel. Jeongin laid down beside him. “I’m going to kill anyone who stares at you.”
“I’m wearing 90% glitter.”
“Exactly. You’re a walking heart attack.”

Changbin was trying to apply sunblock to Hyunjin’s back.
“You’re shaking,” Hyunjin teased.
“I’m trying not to die.”
“You’ve seen me shirtless before.”
“Yes, but you didn’t look like a Renaissance painting then.”

Seungmin and Jisung were fighting over a floatie.
“Let me on.”
“No. I’m cute. I win.”
“You’re annoying.”
“I’m cute and annoying. I’m irresistible.”
Seungmin glared.
Then kissed his forehead. “Fine.”

Minho, meanwhile, was still staring at Chan, who had taken off the oversized shirt and was now carefully collecting seashells near the water in baby blue swim trunks and a soft giggle.

“God,” Minho muttered. “Take me out. Just end it. I can’t survive this man.”

1:00 PM — The Photoshoot

“I booked a couples photoshoot!” Chan beamed. “Surprise!”
Minho blinked. “You what.”
Chan held up a camera and matching flower crowns.

“I’m not wearing—” Seungmin started.
Jisung was already tying his onto his head. “Too late.”

Jeongin grumbled about dignity but let Felix pose him with one hand on his chest and the other in the air like a ballerina.

Changbin held Hyunjin like a princess.
Hyunjin flipped his hair like a shampoo commercial.

Minho stood behind Chan, arms around his waist, chin on his shoulder, while Chan giggled and leaned back into him like they’d been married for years.

And Minho?
Whipped.
Destroyed.
Ruinously in love.

2:30 PM — Everyone Notices

“They’re all gone,” Jisung whispered. “Look at them. The boyfriends are gone.”

“Seungmin tried to murder a man for asking if I wanted a smoothie,” Jisung continued.

Felix pointed. “Jeongin just offered me his entire wallet to stop squinting in the sun.”

Hyunjin smirked. “Changbin carried me because the sand was hot.”

Chan glanced back at Minho, who had built him a mini umbrella shrine made of sticks and his own shirt.
“…Minho asked if I wanted to be his heir.”

4:00 PM — Final Stage: Marriage Talk
Jeongin stared at Felix, watching the sun sparkle in his eyes. “You’re the most perfect person I’ve ever seen.”
Felix beamed. “Say that again but with more eyeliner.”

Changbin helped Hyunjin up from a nap and whispered, “You know I’d burn down the world if you asked.”
Hyunjin stretched like a cat. “Tempting.”

Seungmin offered Jisung a juice box.
Jisung blinked. “Are you proposing to me?”
Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”
“…Kind of?”

Minho tugged Chan down beside him on the towel, arm wrapped around his shoulders, voice low.

“You’re going to marry me someday.”
Chan blinked. “That wasn’t a question.”
“It’s not up for debate.”
Chan smiled. “Fine. But only if you carry me down the aisle.”
“Deal.”

6:00 PM — The Car Ride Home

Chan fell asleep on Minho’s shoulder.

Felix was playing music, Jeongin gently holding his hand.

Hyunjin painted a tiny flower on Changbin’s thumb.

Jisung was snoring. Seungmin was reading.
And the four mafia men?

Dead silent.

Whipped.

In love.

And hopelessly, utterly owned by the chaotic partners they’d once thought needed protection — only to realize they'd never stop needing them instead.

A few weeks later a plan was set and it started with a group chat.

🐣💍Chaos Fiancés in Progress💍🐣
Chan: what if we proposed first?
Felix: YES I WANT TO MAKE HIM SOB
Hyunjin: let’s do it together
Jisung: group proposal. chaos. tears. fashion. legacy.
Chan: we do it next weekend. beach. sunset.
Felix: say less. I’m buying glitter cannons.

One Week Later — The Setup

Minho, Changbin, Jeongin, and Seungmin were told:
“Wear something nice. We’re taking you out for something special.”

So naturally, they assumed it was either:

1. A spa day
2. A group dinner
3. A trap

It was… kind of all three.

6:30 PM — The Beach Again

Minho stepped onto the sand in a dark navy suit, no tie, hair slicked back. His gaze was sharp, but he looked relaxed.

Until he saw Chan standing near the water in a white shirt tucked into soft linen trousers, barefoot, cheeks pink, curls wind-tousled, and smiling like the sun rose for him.

Minho stopped breathing.
“You okay?” Chan asked with a wink.
“Absolutely not,” Minho muttered.

Felix wore a white flowy shirt with pearlescent buttons and glitter in his lashes.
Jeongin saw him and immediately looked down at his own black button-up like it had personally failed him.

“...I’m not worthy,” Jeongin whispered.
Felix twirled. “You’re perfect.”
Jeongin made a noise that belonged in a drama soundtrack.

Hyunjin was in cream silk, with a matching scarf in his hair.
Changbin immediately tripped on a seashell.
Hyunjin snorted. “Smooth.”
Changbin, flat on the ground: “Still hot though?”
“Always.”

Jisung wore a custom embroidered jacket that sparkled in the sunset.
Seungmin stared at him for five solid seconds, then turned away, muttering, “I can’t cry before dinner. I won’t.”

6:55 PM — The “Photo Setup”

“Stand right there,” Chan said, guiding Minho in front of a little arch made of white flowers and sea glass.

“We want a photo.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “Since when are we this fancy?”
“You love me,” Chan replied innocently.
“…True.”

Behind them, Felix was positioning Jeongin beside the arch.
Hyunjin was gently fixing Changbin’s collar.
Jisung was dragging Seungmin by the wrist, humming with suspicious glee.
“Wait a sec—” Seungmin started.
Jisung just smiled.

7:00 PM — The Proposals

And then, at once—
Chan, Felix, Hyunjin, and Jisung dropped to one knee.

The mafia men froze.

“Wait—”

“Are you—?”

“NO. NO WAY—”

“Oh my God.”

Chan pulled out a simple silver ring and looked up at Minho, eyes shining.
“You’ve been mine since the moment you glared at me like I ruined your empire by existing. And I knew I’d never be afraid again as long as I had you looking at me like that.”

Minho’s eyes were glassy.
“Be mine for good?” Chan whispered. “Marry me, Lee Minho?”
Minho didn’t speak.
He just sank to his knees and hugged Chan like he’d die without him.
“Yes,” he choked out. “Yes. Always.”

Felix held out a velvet box, glitter nail polish shining. “Jeonginnie. You’re scary, and broody, and you once threatened a man with a pen. And I’ve never felt safer in my life.”

Jeongin’s lip trembled.
“Will you be my forever?”
“I—yes—I mean—I—” Jeongin kissed him so hard he forgot how to speak.

Hyunjin lifted a simple ring on a ribbon. “You once tackled a man because he stole my coffee.”
Changbin sniffled. “He deserved it.”

“I want you to tackle life with me. Always.”
Changbin sobbed. “I—I don’t deserve you.”
Hyunjin kissed his forehead. “You get me anyway.”

Jisung stared up at Seungmin, grinning. “You call me annoying. You sigh every time I talk. But you’ve never let me fall. Ever.”
Seungmin was fully crying now. No shame.

“Make it official?” Jisung said.
Seungmin didn’t answer.
He just kissed him and nodded like his whole life depended on it.

7:15 PM — Aftermath

Four mafia men.
Four emotional wrecks.
Four chaotic gremlins now officially engaged.

Felix set off glitter cannons.
Hyunjin popped champagne.
Jisung nearly dropped his ring in the sand.
Chan just looked at Minho and whispered, “Got you.”
Minho replied, “I’m still recovering from the shirt you wore. I’m not even at the proposal part yet.”

That night, back at the penthouse, they all curled into one giant cuddle pile on the largest bed money could buy.

Minho held Chan close and whispered, “You really proposed before me.”

“You were taking too long,” Chan whispered back, smirking.

“I’m marrying a menace.”
“Yep. You love it.”
“…I really, really do.”

Chapter Text

The wedding was weeks away.
Plans were in motion. Suits were being tailored.
Chan had cried twice over flower samples.
Felix had mood boards.
Hyunjin had three Pinterest tabs open at all times.
Jisung was writing a wedding rap.
So naturally, the next step was obvious.
Neon hair dye.

The Pact

Chan: “We should match. For fun.”
Hyunjin: “Vibrant. Loud. Iconic.”
Felix: “Glitter optional?”
Jisung: “Let’s blind them.”
Chan: “No telling them until the big reveal.”

And so, one salon trip later...

* Chan: glowing pastel neon mint green, soft curls bouncing

* Felix: hot neon pink undercut, glitter at the roots

* Hyunjin: a devastating full neon purple fade with silver streaks

* Jisung: chaotic electric orange with shaved lightning bolts on the sides

They were an army.
They were unstoppable.
They were in so much trouble.

Meanwhile…

Minho, Changbin, Jeongin, and Seungmin were suspicious.

“Where’s Chan?” Minho asked.

“Where’s Jisung?” Seungmin growled.

“Felix won’t answer my texts,” Jeongin muttered, checking his phone for the twelfth time.

Changbin squinted. “Hyunjin posted a cryptic emoji caption. A paintbrush and a devil face.”

“Oh God,” Minho said. “They’re up to something.”

7:00 PM — The Reveal

The lights dimmed in the penthouse. A beat dropped.
“Don’t freak out,” Chan’s voice rang out.
Then the four of them walked in, music blaring.

Neon. Everywhere.

Chan skipped in first — mint curls glowing like magic, a shy smile on his face.

Felix followed, tossing his hot pink hair with a dramatic spin.

Hyunjin strutted like a runway god, purple hair gleaming like a villain with a skincare routine.

And Jisung?
Jisung moonwalked in, flashing double peace signs, orange hair looking like a literal flame.

Minho choked.
He stood there, mouth open, staring at Chan like he’d just stepped off a fantasy novel cover.
“You—you—what—WHAT is on your head—” he finally breathed.

Chan pouted, fake-offended. “Do you not like it?”
Minho stepped forward, cradled Chan’s face, and whispered, “I’m going to marry you in a church made of glow sticks.”

Jeongin saw Felix’s pink glitter undercut and stumbled backward.
“You—*you—*you’re too powerful,” he gasped.
Felix smirked. “I’m irresistible and you’re in love.”
“Tragically,” Jeongin whispered.

Changbin just dropped to his knees the moment Hyunjin walked in.
“I’m not worthy,” he whispered.
Hyunjin put a foot on his thigh like a prince. “You may rise.”

Seungmin turned to Jisung.
“Orange?”
“Bold. Like me.”
“You dyed your hair bright tangerine and shaved lightning bolts into the side of your head.”
“And you’re still going to marry me.”
Seungmin stared. Then kissed him. “Unfortunately, yes.”

9:00 PM — The Claiming of Chan

Everything was peaceful.

Until Jeongin cleared his throat and said, “Now that you’re looking extra soft and magical, I think it’s time we revisit who your real parents are.”

Felix added, “We did teach you how to bake cookies and fold your pastel laundry properly.”

Jisung gasped. “Excuse you—we taught him emotional regulation and how to do a vet school presentation without fainting.”

Seungmin folded his arms. “I wiped his tears and his cat’s butt once.”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “Temporary guardian status.”

Jisung pointed. “Felix, your idea of parenting is putting glitter on his homework.”

Chan blinked as the four of them circled him.
Minho sat in the corner, sipping tea and watching like this was an episode of reality TV.

“Everyone…?”
They stopped.
Chan raised a hand.

“I already chose Seungmin and Jisung as my designated chaos parents.”

Jeongin gasped. “You what?”

Felix clutched his chest. “I feel… betrayed.”

Chan smiled sweetly. “You’re my sparkly uncles. But Seungmin and Jisung win. They cried with me during vet finals and threatened a professor.”

Seungmin and Jisung high-fived. “Undisputed.”
Felix collapsed into Jeongin’s arms.
Jeongin whispered, “We’ll steal custody back during wedding season.”

That Night
Minho curled into bed beside Chan, fingers tangled in his now-glowing green hair.
“You know I love you even if you look like a sentient highlighter, right?”

Chan grinned. “And I love you even if you look like the Mafia CEO of Seriousville.”
Minho kissed him. “Neon or not… you’re still mine.”

Many weeks later it’s now wedding time.

The sun was shining.
The ocean was calm.
The flower arrangements were elaborate.
There were glitter cannons. A three-tiered cake. Jisung’s ring box was shaped like a duck for reasons no one understood.

And in the grand beachfront venue, four mafia men — Minho, Changbin, Jeongin, and Seungmin — stood behind a curtain in matching suits…
Pacing. Sweating. Panicking.

30 Minutes Before the Ceremony

Minho had removed his tie, red in the face. “I can’t do this.”

Changbin was clutching a bottle of water like it owed him money. “I think I forgot how to breathe.”

Jeongin had lost his cufflinks. “What if he changes his mind? What if Felix gets bored and leaves me for a circus troupe?”

Seungmin wasn’t saying anything. He was staring into the mirror. His left eye twitched.

“Minho,” he said finally. “Minho, I think I’m dying.”
“Same,” Minho muttered. “It’s too much.

What if I trip? What if he cries? What if I cry? What if I faint and land in the cake?”

“You’ll ruin the cake,” Jeongin whispered.

“It’s lemon mousse,” Changbin added.

“I shouldn’t be sweating through a suit tailored by an Italian man named Vito,” Seungmin muttered.

And that’s when they all stopped and just looked at each other.

Four powerful, cold, dangerous men.
Shaking.
Trembling.

Whipped to their cores.

Jeongin cracked first. “We’re really doing this.”
“Yeah,” Changbin whispered. “We’re marrying them.”
“Hyunjin’s gonna cry in rhinestones,” Seungmin muttered. “Felix’s hair matches the cake decorations.”

Minho sat down, head in his hands. “Chan is going to walk down that aisle in white. He’s going to smile. And I’m going to combust.”
Silence.

Then Changbin nodded. “Okay. Breathe. We’re gonna snap out of this.”

“How?” Seungmin asked.

“On three,” Jeongin said. “We slap each other.”

Everyone nodded.
“One, two—”
Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.

They all blinked.
Pause.
“…Better?” Minho asked.
“Oddly, yes,” Changbin said.
Seungmin rolled his shoulders. “Good. Let’s get married and cry in silence like men.”

The Aisle

The music swelled.

Four figures appeared at the back of the aisle.

Chan. Hyunjin. Felix. Jisung.

All in custom suits and soft smiles, glowing like moonlight.

Chan’s mint hair was perfectly styled, his white jacket hugging his frame. He had baby’s breath tucked behind his ear and a dimpled smile that nearly sent Minho to the ER.

Felix had pink glitter cuffs and heels that sparkled.

Hyunjin was literal royalty, with violet eyeliner and a silk cravat.

Jisung had orange ribbons on his lapel and was mouthing the lyrics to the music like he was in a drama.

They walked in pairs. Laughing. Giggling. Beaming.

And the mafia men?
Stunned.

The Vows

Felix to Jeongin:
“I promise to always share my skincare, protect your reputation, and remind you daily that you’re hotter when you’re not glaring at innocent bystanders.”

Jeongin:
“I love you more than I hate public displays of affection.”
Felix promptly kissed him with tongue.

Hyunjin to Changbin:
“I vow to dance with you at 3am in the kitchen, to keep stealing your hoodies, and to never stop being dramatic about how much I love you.”

Changbin:
“You are the chaos of my life and the glitter of my heart.”

Jisung to Seungmin:
“I swear to be annoying but adorable, loud but loyal, and to never stop flirting with you, even when we’re eighty.”

Seungmin:
“I hate how much I love you, and I’ll keep loving you even when you leave wet towels on the bed.”

Chan to Minho:
“You walked into my life like a storm with a gun. And I never thought I’d fall in love with the thunder. But I did. I love every rough edge, every soft glance, every moment you tried to keep me safe even when I didn’t need it. I don’t need safety. I need you.”

Minho’s voice broke.
“I would burn every city just to see you smile. I would tear down the world if it scared you. I’m yours, and I’ve always been yours.”

The “I Do’s”

“Do you take this menace to be your lawfully wedded chaos gremlin?”

“I do.”

“Do you promise to love, protect, and simp over them until death or glitter explosion do you part?”

“I do.”

Glitter cannons.
Confetti.

Hyunjin’s eyeliner smudged from crying.
Minho dipped Chan in a dramatic kiss.

The Aftermath

Later, at the reception…
Jisung was twerking.
Felix was DJing.
Hyunjin was posing with the cake.
Chan was dancing barefoot on a chair while Minho hovered beside him like a bodyguard/lover/complete simp.

Jeongin, Seungmin, Changbin, and Minho clinked glasses at the bar.

“You okay now?” Jeongin asked.

“We survived the panic,” Changbin sighed.
“We married the best people in the world,” Seungmin muttered, watching Jisung try to convince a seagull to take a selfie.
Minho just smiled softly.
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life being ruined by that man.”
“Same,” the other three said in unison.

Chapter Text

Three weeks after the honeymoon, Minho came home to find Chan on the couch, completely still.

Not in a relaxed way.

In a suspiciously frozen, clearly about to burst way.

“...You okay?” Minho asked slowly.
Chan turned toward him, mouth wobbling. Then he held up his phone with shaking fingers.
“I passed.”

Minho blinked. “Passed what?”
“My course, Min. I’m officially a vet. I passed everything. Got the confirmation and I already have a job. Full-time. I start next Monday—”
Minho screamed.

The kind of guttural, emotional, banshee wail only a mafia boss-turned-husband could manage.

“You—you’re Dr. Bang Chan now?”
Chan nodded, eyes watering. “I am.”
Minho dropped to his knees in front of him. “Marry me again.”

20 Minutes Later – Emergency Group Chat Activation

🐣Chan Passed!!!🐣
MINHO: GET OVER HERE HE PASSED
Jeongin: SOBBING TELL HIM I’M ON MY WAY
Changbin: IS HE EATING? DID HE EAT TODAY?
Felix: oh my god i’m gonna cry and glitter at the same time
Hyunjin: prepare the rooftop
Jisung: he gets a party
Seungmin: he gets seven parties, he deserves all of them
Minho: tonight. rooftop. tuxes optional. glowing praise mandatory.

Changbin: MINHO YOU DID NOT ANDWER DID CHAN EAT TODAYYYY????

Minho: it’s answer not andwer and yes he ate.

Changbin: do me a favour and shut the fuck up.

Changbin: that was a joke for the purposes off I still want to be breathing love you boss. 🩷🩷🩷

The Rooftop – A Few Hours Later

The rooftop was glowing with fairy lights, balloons, and a giant gold banner that read:
CONGRATS DR. PUPPY 🐾

Chan walked in and froze, hand over his mouth.
“You—guys—?”

Jeongin ran up first and hugged him with a vice grip. “I told you. I knew you’d do it.”
Chan giggled through tears. “You’re squeezing me, Innie—”

“Good,” Jeongin muttered. “This is revenge for all the late nights I spent forcing you to sleep instead of studying until your brain melted.”

“Don't act like you weren’t up watching cat TikToks.”
“Those were research. Emotional support content.”

Changbin came next, sweeping Chan into a hug that lifted him off the ground.
“My boy passed vet school.” He was genuinely crying.

“Look at you. All smart and grown and employed and cute and—I’m gonna punch a wall out of pride.”
“Please don’t,” Minho muttered from behind them.
“I’ll punch a soft one.”

The Toasts

Minho raised his glass first.
“You walked into my world like a storm with a bunny hoodie and ruined my ability to think straight. And now you’ve become something even more dangerous—an educated, emotionally stable vet with pastel hair and my entire heart.”

Changbin raised his glass too, sniffling. “There is no one more ride-or-die than Chan. He saved Hyunjin’s cat from choking and my soul from being cynical.”

“You were never not cynical,” Hyunjin called.
“Let me have this!”

Jeongin cleared his throat, voice tight. “I may joke a lot, but real talk? I’ve never been prouder of anyone. You’re the softest and strongest person I know. And if any client is rude to you, I will put a ferret in their car engine.”

Chan wiped his eyes. “I love you guys so much it hurts.”
Minho whispered, “I’ll cry again, I swear.”

The Gifts
Felix: glitter stethoscope with rhinestones.
Hyunjin: hand-painted portrait of Chan holding a kitten like a royal vet king.
Jisung: a duck plushie in a vet coat.
Seungmin: "Surviving Chaos: A Vet’s Guide to Living with Seven Maniacs.”
Minho: a silver collar tag engraved “Property of Dr. Bang — Love, Your Husband.”
Changbin: a premium vet bag fully stocked with medical tools. “I added spare gloves, calming spray, and a personal panic button. Just in case.”
Jeongin: a custom leather name tag that read Dr. Bang Chan – Vet / National Treasure / Baby Brother to Mafia Royalty with a note tucked inside: “No matter what, you’re never alone.”
Chan teared up. Again.

The Party
Chan got drunk on a passionfruit cocktail and danced in socks.

Felix did spins to applause.

Hyunjin turned a champagne flute into a microphone.

Jisung dropped a cupcake on the floor and insisted it was “performance art.”
Seungmin dragged him away by the ear.

Jeongin refused to let Chan carry anything heavier than a napkin.

Changbin kept fussing with Chan’s shirt buttons like he was “making sure he didn’t overheat.”

And Minho?
Minho kept his arms around Chan’s waist the entire night, kissing his temple every time someone congratulated him.

“You’re glowing,” he whispered.
“I’m just really happy,” Chan smiled.
“You should be. You’re you. That’s worth everything.”

That night, Minho tucked Chan into bed with Jeongin's name tag beside his pillow and Changbin’s vet bag packed for his first shift.
Chan snuggled close.

“I’m officially a vet.”
“You’re officially a genius,” Minho said. “And the softest bad bitch in existence.”
Chan giggled sleepily. “You’re the proudest husband in the world, huh?”
Minho smiled.
“You have no idea.”

Chan’s First Day as a Certified Vet.

New scrubs. Mint hair in a clip. A fresh clipboard in his hand.
He looked professional. Competent. Adorable.
His clinic? Small, pastel-toned, quiet.
At least until they started showing up.

9:02 AM – The First Patient

The bell above the door chimed.

Enter: Hyunjin and Changbin. In matching sunglasses and fake moustaches.
“Good morning,” Hyunjin said, overly casual. “This is our… uh… injured rabbit.”

Chan blinked. “That’s a plush toy.”

“He’s in emotional distress,” Hyunjin insisted, stroking its nonexistent ears. “He witnessed violence. He’s not been the same since the incident.”

“What incident?”

Changbin leaned in. “The blender. Don’t ask.”

Chan giggled. “You guys are unbelievable.”
“We’re also in love,” Hyunjin whispered, kissing Changbin on the cheek. “And proud.”

9:17 AM – Second Patient

The door swung open dramatically.
Felix and Jeongin strutted in like two fashion-forward spies.

Felix wore a cape. Jeongin had a clipboard labelled “Top Secret.”
“We’re here on turtle business,” Felix declared.

Chan blinked at the “patient.”
A turtle in sunglasses.
With stickers on its shell.
“This is Sir Snapsalot,” Jeongin said seriously. “He’s lethargic. Might be from eating government secrets.”

Felix nodded solemnly. “We think he’s NSA.”

Chan burst into laughter. “You two are absolute menaces.”
Jeongin grinned. “You love us.”
“I tolerate you.”
“Close enough.”

9:39 AM – Third Patient

Jisung and Seungmin came in next, Seungmin carrying an actual pet carrier with genuine caution.

“Chan,” Jisung whispered dramatically. “We need help.”
Chan tilted his head. “Wait… this isn’t another plushie, right?”

“No,” Seungmin said flatly. “It’s a skunk.”
“…A what?”

They opened the carrier door.
A real, living, breathing skunk stared back.

“This is Daffodil,” Jisung said proudly. “We found her on the way. She had a scratch and Seungmin insisted we rescue her.”
“She was limping,” Seungmin huffed.

Chan blinked. “You brought a wild skunk to my clinic on my first day?”

“She likes us,” Jisung offered.
“She bit me,” Seungmin added, holding up a bandaged finger. “But I respect her boundaries.”

10:05 AM – The Final Visitor

The bell rang one last time.
Minho entered alone.
No disguise.
No fake animal.
No chaos.

Just a single flower in his hand and a half-nervous, half-smug look on his face.
Chan’s breath caught.

“You came,” he whispered.
“Of course I did.” Minho stepped forward, eyes warm. “You’re my husband. You’re my vet. You’re my entire world. Why wouldn’t I come?”

Chan flushed all the way to his ears. “Everyone else brought fake emergencies.”
Minho leaned in, brushing their noses together. “My emergency is that I miss you already.”
Chan melted.
“Still the smoothest one here,” Jisung muttered from the waiting bench.

10:18 AM – The Incident

While Minho admired the pastel wallpaper and sipped complimentary herbal tea, Daffodil decided she was ready to explore.
By "explore," she meant waddle directly toward the man who once led an underground weapons operation.

“...Why is she staring at me?” Minho whispered.

Seungmin turned. “She’s got good instincts.”
Chan looked up. “Wait—don’t move too fast. She’s still nervous—”

Minho moved.
Daffodil charged.

Minho screamed and sprinted across the clinic, dodging cat towers and knocking over a stack of dog biscuits.
“She’s GAINING ON ME—”
“She likes dominant energy!” Jisung yelled.
“THAT’S THE PROBLEM—”

10:26 AM – Peace Is Restored

Daffodil was finally distracted with strawberries.

Minho was hiding behind the reception desk, panting.

Chan crouched beside him, trying very hard not to laugh.

“I almost died.”
“She’s the size of a slipper.”
“She has rage in her soul, Chan.”

Chan kissed his cheek. “You’re very brave.”
Minho grumbled, “I married into chaos.”
“And you love every second of it.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”

The End of the Day
As the sun dipped outside the windows, Chan leaned against the desk, exhausted but smiling.

His husband was beside him.
His family was scattered across the waiting room, napping, snacking, or softly bickering.
His clinic had survived its first day.

And so had he.

“I did it,” he whispered.
Minho pulled him in. “You thrived.”
“Thanks for… all of it.”
Minho kissed the top of his head. “You’re Dr. Bang Chan now. And you’re amazing.”
Daffodil, curled in Jisung’s lap, let out a soft snuffle.

Jeongin looked over from the turtle’s corner and said proudly, “We should buy him a second clinic.”
Changbin nodded. “And a backup duck.”
Felix gasped. “With shoes.”

“Guys,” Chan groaned.
Minho just laughed and pulled him close.
“Get used to it, Dr. Puppy. We’re never gonna let you go.”

Chapter Text

It’s been three years.
The clinic sign reads:
Dr. Bang Chan, DVM – Gentle Hands for Tiny Paws
(Underneath it, in small letters: “Also specializes in mafia-induced trauma in poodles.”)

Morning in the Penthouse

Minho wakes up first. He always does. Years of instinct don’t fade easy.

But now, instead of checking weapons or territory maps, he checks something else.
Chan.

Curled on his chest like a sleepy koala, hair a soft mess of mint-and-brown, wearing a pastel shirt with cartoon cats on it.
Minho presses a kiss to his forehead.
Still here. Still real. Still his.
“I love you, trouble,” he whispers.
Chan, eyes still closed: “Mmm… you’re my trouble.”

Across Town
Hyunjin teaches an early art class now. He draws nudes and cats, sometimes both.
Changbin comes by with coffee and ends up accidentally modelling when someone cancels.
He always flexes. Hyunjin pretends to hate it.

Jeongin runs his own security firm now — still mafia-connected, but more “sleek businessman” than “vengeful prince.”
Felix owns a glitter-themed dance studio next door.
They share a balcony. Sometimes Jeongin sits out there just to watch Felix twirl in the sun.

Jisung and Seungmin moved in together.
Jisung writes children’s musicals. Seungmin proofreads them with a red pen and an eye-roll so intense it could peel wallpaper.
They’re annoyingly in love. No one complains.

At the Clinic

Chan sits in the sunny waiting room of his practice, reviewing files while a dachshund sleeps in his lap.

There are photos on the wall:
* Him and Minho on their wedding day — Chan crying, Minho stunned silent
* The infamous neon hair era
* Felix and Jeongin with their turtle in a tiny tux
* Hyunjin kissing Changbin in a vet coat
* Jisung and Seungmin, holding a certificate that says “Official Vet Parents (Emotional)”

And in the corner:
Daffodil the Skunk, now retired, now spoiled, now terrifyingly attached to Minho.

Anniversary Night

Minho takes Chan to the same rooftop where they held the celebration party the day Chan became a vet.

There’s fairy lights. Rose petals. A very confused duck in a bowtie wandering near the buffet.

“I still can’t believe it,” Minho says, watching Chan laugh across the table.
“Believe what?” Chan grins.
“That this life is mine.”

Chan walks over, wraps arms around his waist. “It’s ours. And it’s just getting started.”
Minho kisses him under the lights, like no time has passed at all.

Later
They fall asleep tangled together, warm and full and whole.

Minho whispers before he drifts off:
“Who knew the boy I accused of theft would become my world?”

Chan murmurs:
“Who knew the mafia boss who chased me down would end up my forever?”
And in the soft quiet of the night, surrounded by love, chaos, and the family they made—
They lived.
And they kept living.
Together.
Always.