Since I Dont Have Friends Where I Live, Anyone Wanna Join My 18+ SKZ/ATZ Discord Chat?

Since I don’t have friends where I live, anyone wanna join my 18+ SKZ/ATZ discord chat?

Edit: https://discord.gg/7mp9gqhJ

Have to give gigi (Yoongi) her cuddles and love before I go to work. The hardest thing about being a pilot is not being able to see my pets daily. (Ignore my battle scars and annoying baby talk voice! Pollen here in DC is a BITCH!!!)

My fur kid (Yoongi) decided today isn’t the day to write more Seonghwa yandere smut, she said cuddles only. 🥺

Fantasizing about you:

Ateez San Drabble:

Since #San was outing us Atiny for fanfics I decided to use our embarrassment as inspiration. PSA: CHOI SAN… YOU BETTER STAY TF OFF TUMBLR! THIS IS MY SAFESPACE! I don’t need you knowing I’m a whore for you and your other members!!!! 😭😭😭

Choi San, who alone in his dark room, deep into the night… bored. He wants to read something. He goes onto a writers website and types his name. He finds alot of stories but one catches his eye.

Choi San, who clicks on the link. He reads, realizing it’s an explicit fan fiction about him and a fan reader. He feels his body getting hot from the explicit dialogue and plot.

Choi San, who visualizes the reader as the story describes. The way her body wraps around him as they make love. The way she moans his name, “San baby go deeper.”

Choi San, who’s incredibly hard from the smut, begins to palm himself through his black boxers. Envisioning the scene that is written before him. He way he closes his eyes thrusting into his large hand, tightly wrapped his aching cock.

Choi San, who at this point is so deep into the fantasy loses all sense. He’s moaning, panting heavily as he continues on reading. The way the reader climbs on top of him and begins to ride him mercilessly. The way she begs for him to fill her with his hot thick cum. “Baby cum inside me.”

Choi San, who reads aloud his dialogue, “yes baby, I need to fill you so deep.” He begins to stroke faster. “Deeper, please, YES! OH GOD SAN!” The character calls out, closer to her climax. He imagines her voice, hearing it as if she was there with him. San, in the story and in his waking moment is close to climax. His moans fill the room as he strokes his throbbing cock, harder, faster, fantasizing it being the character’s wet aching pussy.

Choi San, who whimpers as the feeling was so intense. The story is close to the end, so he speeds up. “SAN! I-IM CUMMING!” “Me to baby, cum with me, come on baby, I got you.” He whispers as he feels his climax hit. In unison San and the character cum. His cock shoots out hot cum onto his hand and stomach. He comes down from his climax and lays his phone on the side of him.

Choi San, breathing heavily, body covered in a thin layer of sweat closes his eyes, wishing it was real. To feel the warmth of a beautiful woman making passionate love to. The way his fantasies run wild after his orgasm.

Choi San, who begins to make a habit every night to read a story about him and a character to get off when he’s most in need and tense.

Choi San, who won’t ever admit he enjoys the fanfictions as much as his precious Atiny.

It was quick I didn’t wanna make a whole story ✌🏼 This man might be lurking…. 👀👀👀

Made a surprise visit to a former student at the flight academy I worked at as a CFI. Today he earned his CFI license and we took one last flight together!

𝔇𝔒𝔚𝔑𝔗𝔒𝔚𝔑 𝔈𝔓ℑ𝔖𝔒𝔇𝔈 ℑ:

WARNING ⚠️ THE STORY CONTAINS:

Racism

Vulgar language

Racial slurs

Murder

Selling and Usage of illegal drugs and weapons

Abuse

Stalking

MDNI (will be blocked)

CHARACTER BIO:

Kim Ho-Yeon AKA Isis

Age: 17

Race: Korean/African American

Nationality: American

Kim Kai

Age: 21

Race: Korean/African American

Nationality: American

Troy Pierre Johnson AKA T-Ball

Age: 31

Race: Haitian

Nationality: American

Marcus Deville

Age: 38

Race: Haitian

Nationality: American

Ezell Capris AKA Crusher

Age: 28

Race: African American

Nationality: American

Song Mingi

Age: 20

Race: Asian

Nationality: Korean

I never wanted this.

Boots pounding against the cracked pavement, sweat stinging my eyes, breath ragged in my throat. The neon lights of Bourbon Street faded behind me, replaced by the suffocating darkness of New Orleans' forgotten alleys. I clutched the money and drugs tightly in my trembling hands, my knuckles white, the illicit gains of another midnight deal gone wrong. Sirens screamed in the distance, getting closer, louder. My heart raced, my blood pounded, my mind raced with fractured thoughts.

How did I get here? How did my world spiral into this pit of despair?

"Ayo Isis, you got a deal tonight," Troy had told me earlier outside the school, sliding a bundle of cash and a package of dope across the hood of the car. His eyes held that predatory glint, a look of hunger and power masked by false camaraderie. "Midnight, same spot. Don't be late."

I wasn't late. I was never late. Not to the deals that ensured some semblance of survival. The cracked facade of life I barely clung to depended on these dangerous exchanges. I'd met Marcus just under the flickering streetlight, the old wrought-iron fence of St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 looming behind us like grim sentinels.

"You got the stuff?" Marcus had asked, voice trembling despite the bravado etched into his thin, haggard face.

Something was off. He was never nervous about a deal. Was he tweakin or feenin? Shit Ion know but imma need this shit to be quick.

"Right here," I replied, still looking at him skeptical, producing the crumpled bag from my jacket pocket. "You got the cash?"

He nodded, eyes darting around nervously. I noticed how his hands shook as he tried to count the money. That’s when the sirens split the night, the red and blue lights flooding the alley in an unholy glare.

“Mother fucka!” I murmured. My hand next to my Glock.

"Freeze! NOPD!" The shout echoed off the bricks, a command more final than any sentence.

Pandemonium.

Marcus had panicked, dropping the cash, his feet slipping on the damp, algae-coated alley stones. The cops were on him in a heartbeat.

"Don't move!" But Marcus moved. He reached inside his jacket—maybe reaching for another baggie, a desperate bluff, who knows? The shot rang out, louder than the blare of sirens. A burst of light, and he crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath him like a spreading inkblot. The warmth of his blood hitting my face.

For a moment, my world stood still. Marcus—another body fallen to the streets, another casualty of survival painted in blood. I ran. Don't look back, Isis.

Just run.

“FREEZE!”

The alleyways twisted and turned, a maze of filth and decay. The sirens clung to me like malevolent spirits. I could hear the radios crackle, disembodied voices barking commands and coordinates. The cemetery loomed ahead, its dilapidated gates inviting me into its embrace. Through the iron bars and into its shadowed sanctuary I flew, slipping into an old, musty mausoleum. The door groaned as I forced it shut, and I crouched in the dark, fighting to silence my gasps.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. The sirens faded, and the night swallowed the sounds. Even the cops seemed to respect the cemetery’s morbid peace. Wasn’t tryna risk no evil spirits I guess.

I waited in that cold, narrow space, my senses tuned to every rustle, every whisper of the dead. When at last the silence confirmed my solitude, I crawled back out into the moonlit graveyard. Exhaustion overwhelmed me. I dropped to the ground, feeling the dirt and stones beneath my hands. Tears, bitter and hot, streamed down my face as I hugged my knees to my chest.

"I don't want this," I whispered, voice cracking. The words fell into the night like prayers to a god who had turned away long ago. "I don't want any of this."

But what did I want? Escape? Redemption? My mother always said I was the brightest and will be something.

Damn, I’m sure letting her down.

After a long walk back to my house in a rundown part of town, I finally reached the creaky, paint-chipped door that led to our sanctuary. Or, what passed for one these days. Pushing it open, I found my brothers and the gang sprawled on the ratty couch, the haze of kush smoke choking the cramped room.

Kai, my older brother, was the first to speak. “So, how was the deal?” His voice was calm, too calm for this line of questioning.

“A bust,” I replied, my voice hollow. “Marcus got capped.”

The air in the room seemed to thicken, silence swallowing the words. Their expressions hardened, eyes flickering with barely concealed fear and anger. Troy, NOLA’s biggest pusher, looked up, his jaw set.

“You still got the dope?” His question cut through the tension like a knife.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the baggie and crumpled money, tossing it onto the scarred coffee table. “Yeah, and Marcus’s money. Swiped it while he was getting blasted by the feds.”

A murmur ran through the room. Troy’s face twisted into a sneer. “Damn, Marcus. Shit!” I shouted, slamming my fist against the wooden doorframe. The pain was a minor spark in the inferno raging inside me.

“Fool, Marcus was a basehead and a snitch. Nobody knew about that deal but us. I bet his ass snitched,” Troy said, his eyes narrowing. “Nigga had it coming.”

My anger flared. “Marcus wouldn’t sell us out.”

Troy’s eyes bored into mine, unrelenting. “Then who did, Isis?”

I had no answer. I paced the room, frustration boiling over. “As long as we got the dope, we’re good. So chill bitch.” He took a puff of his blunt. “Why worry about Marcus’s dead ass? Another worthless nigga dead.”

But the weight of my earlier words, "I don't wanna do this shit anymore," hung in the air. Frustration coursed through me like a poison. “I’m tired of this, Troy. Every day I’m out here risking my life, and for what? We’re still in the same bullshit! This isn’t getting us anywhere!”

Troy stood up, slamming his fist into the wall beside my head. “Bitch you ain’t getting out until when I say you can. I took you and your brothers in after ya moms died. I say what it’s gonna be, aight?”

I shoved him back, fury overriding fear. “And one is dead! So clearly, the dope game ain’t it, Troy, nigga the rest of us still in the trenches while you out living the good life!”

I stormed out, slamming the door behind me, the sound echoing in the tight alleyways. Tears blurred my vision as I wandered the darkened streets, seeking solace in the shadows. My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me back to the here and now. It was a text from Kai: “Yo man you gotta chill. Troy only has your best interest.”

I snapped the phone shut, anger and helplessness intertwining. Deep in my heart, I knew he was wrong. Troy’s “interest” was a leash around our necks, tightening with each passing day.

“Nigga, Troy ain’t even got the best interest for his damn self. Ion know why you still believe his bullshit. We ain’t getting rich. We ain’t leaving the hood.”

Closing my phone, I just took a deep breath.

I continued to walk, the oppressive night swallowing me.

Gangbangers loitered on corners, bottles and burners in hand.

Homeless baseheads strung out on fent and rock, begging for money to get more dope.

Hoes on the corner selling pussy just to survive these trenches.

We all broken statues in the bleak cityscape.

“I gotta get out of this,” I whispered to myself, voicing the secret I had harbored for months. Memories of my mother, Kim Hanuel, flooded back.

Mom was a Korean immigrant, a resilient woman who fought tooth and nail to give us a chance. She raised three children on her own amidst the unforgiving ghettos of New Orleans, working endless hours cleaning offices and houses, always with a gentle but determined smile. Dad was a ghost, a deadbeat who ran with gangs, chasing dreams of a quick and dirty come-up only to vanish without a trace.

That deadbeat ass nigga. Knocking up my moms, a naive woman who wanted love in all the wrong places.

I imagined her despair if she could see us now—Kai deep in the game, Minho a casualty in a senseless drive-by, and me; a straight-A student and peak athlete and here I am, slangin and bangin.

Fucked up turn of events.

I look around and see the surroundings more. Shaking my head.

The ghetto.

Every tired step, every weary breath, reminded me of where I was born and raised, surrounded by shadows and despair. This life was a landscape of crumbling buildings, flickering streetlights, and alleyways littered with forgotten souls.

I walked forward, hyper-aware of my surroundings yet lost in my thoughts. Top of my class in high school, an exceptional athlete with dreams once so bright, now tarnished by nights like this, running from the law, clinging to survival. At seventeen, I found myself risking everything, bound to a gang I never chose but was forced into. My mother hadn’t died for this; her sacrifices were not meant to be repaid in blood and betrayal.

Passing through the maze of tombstones, I found myself at the Lafayette Cemetery, an abandoned part where the forgotten were laid to rest. Onto the cold stone of a nameless tomb, I lowered myself, fatigue settling deep in my bones.

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind me sitting here,” I whispered to the silent grave. “I promise I’ll be respectful.”

I let my head fall into my hands, the weight of everything crashing down on me. The memories played in my mind like a cursed film reel. Twelve years old, timid but desperate, selling my first dime bag to a shady man who smirked at my fear. By fourteen, hardened by necessity, I was pulling triggers in drive-bys I had no choice but to participate in. Killing 2 rival gang members in the process.

Tears streamed down my face, hot and salty, falling into the earth below me. I sobbed, an animalistic release of years of pain and hopelessness.

Finally, when my tears dried up, leaving only a dull ache in their wake, I stood and wandered deeper into the cemetery. As I moved quietly through the darkness, voices reached my ears, sharp and urgent. I ducked behind a statue, straining to hear. They were speaking Korean. My heart skipped a beat, the familiar cadence of my mother’s tongue pulling me back to her memory.

“Sir, we know Troy Johnson is in this city,” one of the men said.

My eyes widened.

“Good, we should ask some locals. He does owe us a lot of money,” another voice replied.

I held my breath, listening intently.

“Find him and finish him off. He has scammed us long enough.”

The blood drained from my face. These men were serious and they were coming for Troy. Without another thought, I broke into a run, sprinting back through the cemetery, out into the streets, and towards home. Panic fueled my steps, the dark cityscape blurring around me as I flew past graffiti-stained walls, darting through alleys and across deserted roadways.

I burst through the door of our house, out of breath, eyes wild. The room fell silent as everyone looked up.

“Where’s Troy?” I demanded, my voice tinged with both fear and resolve.

Kai, leaning against the wall with a cigarette, flicked ashes into a dirty tray. “What’s going on, Ho-Yeon?” he asked, using my birth name, a sign he knew this was serious.

“I need to know where he is, Kai. Now!” My eyes locked onto his, burning with urgency.

“He went to see Danny about an hour ago,” Kai said, concern creasing his brow. “Da fuck goin on?”

“Korean m’fuckas are after him. Saying Troy scammed them.”

The color from Kai’s face flushed. “Koreans? Where you see them?”

“Lafayette.”

“Did they see you?”

I shook my head.

“You sure they Korean?”

“I’m positive. They were speaking Korean—Mom’s dialect, I heard and understood everything.” I could see the fear creeping into his stoic mask. “We need to find him. Now.”

Kai bit his nail, “Kai, who are they?” I asked in panic trying to call Troy.

*The number you reached is unavailable, please call again later.*

Kai remained silent.

I looked at him, confused. “Kai! WHO ARE THEY?!”

“I don’t know! We need to find his dumbass!”

Kai’s face hardened, and he started dialing Troy’s number. Voicemail. Again and again. I did the same, praying to hear his voice. Nothing.

“Call Danny,” Kai ordered. But even Danny’s phone kept going to voicemail.

Kai turned to the others in the room. “Start calling everyone. Now.”

The first to answer was Crusher, an OG who commanded respect just by entering the room. “‘Sup, why y’all m’fuckas blowin’ up my phone?”

“Some Korean folk looking to take out Troy,” Kai said, voice tight with urgency.

“Maaaan, what!? Hell nah cuh, Where he at?” Crusher’s deep husky voice lost its usual coolness, replaced by a sharp edge.

“He’s with Danny, but Danny ain’t answering either!” I cut in, panic surging.

Crusher sounded nervous, something I’d never heard before. “Shit, They prolly at She She’s. We on it.”

Kai nodded, then turned to me. “Crush, get errbody. Meet us at She She’s,” he said.

I raced upstairs, grabbing my uzis and strapping them to my waist. Tearing apart my closet I pulled out a shotgun. I was preparing for war because, at this rate, that’s exactly what it was.

A war I didn’t want to be in, but fuck it, if Troy dies, we all die.

Downstairs, I grabbed my helmet and the keys to my Kawasaki Ninja—a gift from Kai when I made the track team. “Kai, take them and head to the club. I’m right behind.”

He nodded, grim but resolute. The men in the house were a small army, ready for anything. And they had to be.

The bike roared to life, vibrating beneath me as I tore through the streets, the gritty city blurring around me. My heart pounded as I navigated the familiar paths, dodging cars and pedestrians, racing toward She She’s.

The strip club was located on the outskirts of the city limits.

A desolate area with a massive booty club on a dirt and gravel road.

I arrived to see Troy’s G-Wagon parked outside. Crusher was right, he was here. Music thumped from inside the club, a pounding rhythm that matched my racing heart. I couldn’t get in—underage—but I patrolled the perimeter, scanning for any sign of danger.

Moments later, twenty cars rolled up, Crusher and the rest of the crew spilling out like an unstoppable force. I sprinted to Crusher, my boots crunching on the gravel.

“So who we lookin’ for?” he asked, his imposing figure dwarfing mine.

“I couldn’t make out faces, but they’re dressed in suits and they’re Korean.”

“Mmm. Aight, good enough. AYO, listen up!” Crusher's voice boomed. “We lookin’ for some chink mu’fuckas. Y’all know what to do. They roll up, blast them fools!”

I nodded and ran around back to make sure the Koreans wouldn’t infiltrate the back.

Making my way around to the back of the club, I crouched behind a rusted dumpster, eyes scanning the alley for any sign of the Koreans. The distant mumble of my gang’s voices drifted through the deep night, almost comforting. I allowed myself a moment to catch my breath.

Then it all happened so fast.

The sound of cars zooming into the pavement, the sound of doors slamming and the Korean language.

My heart dropped.

The air around me exploded with a symphony of chaos—shouts, screams, and the deafening barrage of gunfire. It echoed through the narrow alley like a war zone. My heart leaped to my throat as I bolted toward the front, instincts taking over.

My hand on one of the uzis, ready to battle. Rounding the corner, I collided with Kai. His eyes widened in horror as he reached out to steady me, thrusting a set of keys and a crumpled sheet of paper into my hand.

“Go to this address, NOW!” he shouted over the cacophony.

“Kai, what is this?!” I yelled back, adrenaline spiking through me.

His face was a mask of urgency, lines etched deep from worry. “I’ll explain it all later, just go! I ain’t losing another sibling.” He glanced over his shoulder where Benzes, BMWs, and Hummers swarmed the street, Korean men in suits exchanging gunfire with our gang. I peeked, my breath catching as I took in the full scope of the chaos—a war zone right in the desolate bayou.

“Kai... come back in one piece,” I said, voice breaking, wrapping him in a quick hug.

“I will. Now go!” he urged, pushing me away and into motion.

My legs propelled me back through the alley, towards the now dirt-encrusted bike parked behind the club. The engine roared to life, a welcome sound amidst the madness.

I sped off passing the battle before me, I saw men I grew to love as brothers lying lifeless on the ground. I see Kai and Crusher reloading guns and firing. Tears began to weld in my eyes. Before I could get away;

It was all in slow motion…

As I began to tear down the street, I caught sight of a tall, young blonde Korean man standing at the edge of the fray. His eyes locked onto mine, a cold, calculating gaze that followed me until I was out of sight. Who was he?

I raced through the city, the landscape blurring past me as thoughts buzzed in my head. What was this address? Why had Kai sent me here? The GPS guided me to Algiers Point, guiding me to a neighborhood that felt worlds away from the grimy streets of my reality. I pulled up to a large, well-kept house with neatly trimmed hedges and a spacious porch. This couldn’t be right.

Doubt gnawed at me, but I dismounted the bike, climbing the few steps to the front door. The keys fit perfectly, and the door swung open to reveal a beautifully furnished home. The inside was modern and tasteful, with dark wood floors and high ceilings. My footsteps echoed in the eerie silence, a stark contrast to the bedlam from which I had just fled.

Photos lined the mantelpiece over a fireplace. I stared, recognizing faces. My family. Our chaotic, battered, endearing family, immortalized in frames that seemed out of place here.

“Whose house is this?” I whispered aloud, a sense of unreality creeping over me.

As I wandered deeper into the house, my fingers grazed the photographs lining the walls. Mom, Minho, Kai and I; our whole family at a long-forgotten barbecue, candid shots of laughter and love. Tears pricked my eyes. This didn’t make sense.

Curiosity drove me up the staircase, each step. Photos of our family members lined the walls. Photos of my grandparents and baby photos of my siblings and I, neatly displayed along the white walls.

I went into a bedroom. The room was simple but nice. I sat on the bed. Looking over I seen a letter:

**"Ho-Yeon aka Isis,"** it began. The handwriting was unmistakably Kai’s, familiar and raw.

---

**"For a while now, prolly 6 years or so, I had this house. Mom left it for us. It was our 'we made it out the hood' gift. Right before she was killed, she gave me the key and told me to get you after school to surprise you. But fuck all the past and sad shit. If you're reading this, it means I ain’t make it out the gutter and I’m prolly shot up and chillin' in a freezer at the morgue downtown."**

Tears streamed down my cheeks, my breath catching in my throat.

**"You ain’t like the rest of these niggas or me. You got something to live for. You’re smart, beautiful and talented. I’m sorry I dragged you into this shit in the first place. Finish high school, go to college, find a nice career and stay the hell away from the hood. I know Troy got eyes all over this m’fucka but I ain’t letting Troy fuck yo life up anymore. I got plans for that nigga if I do make it. I can’t say too much but that nigga a traitor. Anyways I love you...

—Kai"**

I clutched the letter to my chest, the paper crumpling in my trembling hands. The words sank deep into my heart, carving out an emptiness I didn’t think I could feel anymore. I whispered, "Lord, if you’re real, please protect Kai."

Exhausted, my body gave in, and I slumped onto the bed, drifting into a restless sleep filled with shadows and uncertainty.

---

Morning came too soon, the alarm blaring me back to reality. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden hues across the room. I looked at my phone; there were texts from Troy, causing my heart to seize with dread. I opened them, **"Meet up at the spot after school."**

I rolled my eyes but couldn't ignore the gnawing anxiety that followed. Heart hammering, I dialed Kai's number. One ring, two rings—it felt like an eternity.

**"H-hello?"**

Relief washed over me. "You're okay," I breathed.

**“Yeah, I'm good. Aye, look, I’ll call you later, okay? Go to school. You got clothes in the closet."**

"Kai," I hesitated, my voice barely above a whisper, "thank you."

**"I love you, Ho-Yeon. I told you, I'll never let you down."** he said in Korean.

He hung up, leaving me clutching the phone to my chest. I needed that shower more than ever, washing away the grime of the previous night—water mingling with tears as the blonde man's face continued to haunt me. His cold dark eyes staring into my soul. My body shuttered.

---

Driving to school felt surreal. I parked, and as I walked in, the murmurs and whispers among the students surrounded me.

"Yo Isis! Did you hear about that wild ass shooting at She She’s last night? Looks like T-Ball’s gang got blasted by some mafia fools," James called out.

“Really? Damn,” I played it off, trying to mask the turmoil boiling inside me.

"T-Ball made it out,” his voice trailed off I could see in his eyes he was thinking of something else, “but..”

“But?” I repeated.

“Crusher ain’t make it.”

My world shattered. Crusher was the unconventional father figure I had. He made sure me and the brothers was good. Yeah he was a killer and a pusher but he loved us as if we were his own.

I bit my lip, trying not to cry.

James continued, “they said they finna hold a service for him next Saturday. You goin?”

I nodded. “Yeah, aye, imma get to class.”

Crusher. Damn… Troy gotta pay for this shit.

Sitting in class, my usual focus drowned in an ocean of fear and uncertainty, I stared blankly at the pages of my textbook. Words floated in front of my eyes, meaningless, as my mind spiraled back to last night. Thoughts of Crusher, Troy, and the violence that seemed to cling to me like a second skin kept replaying in my head. Who else had to die for Troy’s nonsense?

The bell rang, pulling me into the present, and I winced. Lunch was over and I had kept myself distant, avoiding the usual chatter and laughter of my classmates. It was time for Advanced English, a class I usually loved, but today I doubted I’d absorb a thing. My thoughts were scattered like leaves in the wind.

As I walked into the classroom, I chose a seat by the window. Maybe the view would distract me from the relentless storm brewing inside my mind. But what I saw outside only invited a new kind of anxiety.

Parked just outside the fence of the school was the same black Mercedes Benz from last night. My heart dropped into my stomach. The Korean mafia. I lay my head down on the desk, peeking through the window, hoping I was wrong, hoping I was imagining things.

The tall blonde man stepped out of the car, scanning the schoolyard with cold, calculating eyes. I recognized him immediately. He looked up at the building, and I prayed he wouldn’t see me. For what felt like an eternity, he stood there, his gaze sweeping across the windows. My breath hitched, my body shaking with fear like never before. Yet, by some miracle, he didn’t notice me. He got back into the car and drove off.

For the first time in a long time, I felt genuine, paralyzing fear. They’re after me.

With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and texted Kai.

“Kai, those Korean mafia men are outside the school.”

Not even seconds later, he texted back, “WHAT?! Are you sure?”

“It was the tall blonde.”

“Fuck, I’ll let Troy know. Don’t leave the building until I say so.”

“👍” I texted back.

Two more hours of school. Then I had track practice. Just get through the day, I told myself. Just get through it.

After school, I headed to the track coach’s office, hoping to excuse myself from practice.

“Heeey Mr. Kennedy, I’m not feeling too well, I can’t do practice today. Is it cool if I miss out?” I tried to keep my voice steady, casual.

Mr. Kennedy looked up at me, his eyes skeptical. “Now why should I believe that? You look fine.”

“I–I got a real bad stomach ache. Please?” I pleaded, my fear bubbling just beneath the surface.

He wasn’t buying it. “You must think I’m boo-boo the fool? Go get ready for practice.”

My heart sank. I couldn’t afford to be on that track, out in the open. “Mr. Kennedy, please, it’s really bad. I promise I’ll make up for it next time.”

He leaned back in his chair, studying me. “You’ve never missed a practice without a good reason, Kim. What’s really going on?”

The room felt smaller, the walls closing in as I struggled to keep my composure. How could I explain without giving away too much? “I just… I don’t feel safe today.” It was the closest to the truth I could get without spreading panic.

Mr. Kennedy’s expression softened a fraction. “Safe? Kim, if something’s going on, you need to let someone know. The school can help.”

I shook my head, feeling the weight of secrets and lies pressing down on me. “I can handle it, Mr. Kennedy.”

He sat on the edge of his desk. “Ho-Yeon. Now don’t think I don’t know about what you do.” I looked up at him. “Now I understand because I was in the same position as you as a youngin’, poppin fools and chasing a bag. But I know you, you ain’t like Kai or Minho. You got a good head on ya shoulder na’ girl. So what’s going on.”

I was hesitant, but I told him everything.

“Korean mafia? Whooo T-Ball fucked up big time.” He said rubbing his temples. “Always some dumb nigga who get a lil bit of money and then fuck up and make the worst kind of enemies.”

“So can I please miss today?”

“Yeah. You stay in the office and I’ll take you home.”

I got up and hugged him. “Thank you.”

Two hours went by. My anxiety through the roof. My phone blowing up nonstop.

Kai FaceTimed, “hello?”

“Hey, Troy said to stay low and go stay at Lisa’s house.” He turned to see if anyone was listening on, he quickly switched to Korean, “look, I called Lisa and she said she’ll cover for you. Troy don’t know about the house, so go there and lay low. I’ll be there when I can.”

I nodded, he hung up.

The sun began to set. My leg bouncing nonstop.

Mr. Kennedy came in. “Alright let’s go.”

Mr. Kennedy took me to my new home. “Damn I see trappin got you out huh?” He said looking at the window of my house. “Please don’t mention this home to anyone,” I begged.

“Of course,” he replied with a reassuring nod.

I got out of the car and ran inside, locking all the doors and closing the windows. Fear and anxiety coursed through my body, making my hands shake as I double-checked each lock. It wasn’t until I’d walked through every room that I allowed myself to relax, if only a little.

Each day was the same, run home, hide and wait for Kai. Kai never came. He could only message me. In this big house, what could have been moms, Minho, Kai and me… is just me. Lonely. As much as I’m glad I’m not selling and away from Troy, I miss the homies. This shit is depressing.

Another long ass day of school and practice. It was dark by the time I got in. Nerves been calm since I didn’t see or feel threatened anymore.

Thirsty, going into the spacious kitchen. I pulled a glass from the cabinet.

As I reached for a glass, a cool, gloved hand suddenly clamped over my mouth, and another hand gripped my body tightly. Panic set in as I struggled against the larger intruder, instinctively stomping on their foot and jabbing my elbow into their ribs. I broke free and ran for my bedroom, needing to grab my Glock.

Screaming help was useless. This house easily swallowed my screams and pleas. As I made it to my bedroom, my body froze.

I stood in front of the doorway, heart pounding. There he was, the blonde man was sitting on my bed, smiling. Dressed in a fitted black suit with a white button down shirt and loafers. He was imposing, with a presence that sucked the air out of the room.

“Annyeonghaseyo,” he said, his voice deep and husky, his eyes predatory and cold.

My body trembled. “A-annyeonghaseyo,” I stammered back, my voice barely audible.

He smiled wider. “I’m Song Mingi. And you must be one of Troy Johnson’s lapdogs.”

My eyes widened in fear as the realization of who he was set in. “L-look man, I just sell drugs that he gives me and—”

“Yes, the drugs he gives you belongs to me. You see, Mr. Johnson steals from me and makes beautiful girls like you sell for his own gain.” His thick Korean accent made each word slice through the air.

“I-I truly had no idea,” I pleaded, my voice choking on the lump of terror sitting in my throat.

He patted the bed beside him. “Come sit, no need to be scared of me. I’m not here to hurt you, unless you give me a reason to.” There was a dangerous glint in his eye that made the blood in my veins run cold.

I shook, rooted to the spot. “M-mmh, imma stand right here.” His eyes darkened, and his voice dropped an octave. “I do not like to ask twice. Sit.”

I nodded frantically and sat beside him, every instinct screaming at me to run, but my legs felt like they were made of lead.

“Good,” he said, his tone softer but no less menacing. “Now, let’s talk business.” He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a sleek silver knife, its blade reflecting the moonlight that filled the dark room.

“What—what do you want from me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I need your help, Isis,or better yet, Kim Ho-Yeon” he said, twirling the knife between his fingers with practiced ease. “You have access to places and people I need information about, including Troy Johnson.”

“But why me?” I asked, tears welling in my eyes.

“Because you’re already in the game. And whether you like it or not, you’re valuable to me and I been watching you for a long time now,” he replied coolly. “Help me, and you might just walk away from this unscathed. And I’ll even make you an offer, you’ll be a rich woman.”

My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of his words pressing down on me. “What do you need me to do?”

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. His hand on my thigh, “I need you to find out where Troy is hiding my product and who else he’s working with. You do that, and I’ll make sure Troy pays for what he’s done.”

Something in his tone promised violence, and the thought of being caught between two dangerous men made me feel sick. “And if I refuse?”

His smile returned, but it was colder than before. “Refusing would be very unwise.”

He sat up, “I’ll give you until tomorrow morning to think it over.” He walks out the bedroom door, “also, happy early birthday.”

“H-how did you kn-“

“I know everything about you.”

My mind running circles. Confused, scared, lost. My mind went to Kai.

“Wait, what about Kai?”

He turns, “Ah yes, your brother… all depends on him. He already is aware Troy is not to be trusted. Just he needs a little push, he’s brainwashed at the moment.”

“Song Mingi!” I called out.

“You can call me just Mingi, beautiful.”

I shuttered, “I- I mean how can I know for sure I’ll be safe if I turn against Troy.”

He smiles, he walks over to the bed. His large soft hand brushes my face. “You’ll see, as I said you have until tomorrow morning. Make the right choice.” His plump lips kissed my cheek. A soft gentle kiss and made my face turn red. He chuckled at my reaction. “Cute.”

Finally alone my mind is racing.

I had to choose between my life if I say no. Or betraying Troy and the rest of the gang. Either way it’s a death sentence. Was Mingi telling the truth. His body language tells me he was not lying.

But who knows.

I want out of this shit.

The next morning:

I woke up from a shitty slumber and saw my phone vibrating, the number was unknown, “hello?”

“Good morning my beautiful Ho-Yeon. Have we made a decision?”

I looked back at how Troy did us, had us in some ran down trap house, selling bricks for him and only giving us chump change in return while he drove off in a G-Wagon and had it all. How he left Minho to die on the streets, how Crusher died for his selfish gain. How all these street niggas bow down to him because he got it and they want what he has. The fantasy he painted for them. ‘Hood rich’… And then how moms died trying to protect us from him…

Nah, he gotta go.

Troy is the real enemy.

Troy is my enemy.

“I’m in.”

“I knew you’d make the right choice.”