[ON HOLD] Sugar || Chaewon x Reader

1

Y/N leaned against the shoddy brick wall and checked his wristwatch for the fifth time that minute. He was tired of waiting in a cold, dark and musty back alley, and the fact that he was alone for this transaction made it all the more worse. Alas, it was business, and Y/N had a job to do. No matter what happened, all he cared about was a finished deal. Sugar for honey, drugs for money.

A botched deal would mean a disappointed Joon, and Y/N would rather eat shit than let down the man who had practically raised Y/N himself. Besides, Y/N needed the money if he was to follow his dream of living a normal life in a normal apartment with a normal job.

He wrapped the large black padded jacket that Joon had gifted him years ago tighter around his body and cursed silently. The coat served little purpose against the bone-chilling December winds, and the dank industrial alleyway that was today's deal location didn't help. In fact, the tight rectangular corridor that was created by the tall concrete buildings on either side turned the alley into a very effective wind tunnel.

His fingers were tracing the markings on the handgun hidden underneath his coat when a distant sound echoing down the alleyway perked his ears. Y/N turned to the direction of the sound and when he started to hear footsteps clearly, he came alert. A hooded figure trudged towards Y/N, their posture hunched forwards and a sharp feeling in Y/N's gut told him something was off. He remembered what Joon had told him earlier and quickly sent him a text on his flip phone before shoving it back into his pocket. Better safe than sorry, he thought.

   This was the first time that Y/N had been tasked with executing a deal on his own. Usually Joon was waiting at a closeby location in the van, so if any trouble arose, Joon would be near enough to swiftly deal with the matter. But today, Joon had other matters at hand and the only help Y/N had was the twelve-inch handgun under his belt. The gun that Joon had given to Y/N for his fourteenth birthday.

   The client came to a standstill two metres from Y/N and smiled. Two rows of black, rotting teeth greeted Y/N and the smell of decomposing flesh hit him like a tidal wave.

  It's just a quick deal, Y/N repeated to himself. After it was done he would never have to see this grotesque creature ever again.

   "May I help you?" Y/N asked.

   "Honeypot two-five-seven," the man rasped and Y/N tasted his lunch for the second time that day. The man's putrid breath was no joke and Y/N seriously wondered if this man had ever seen a toothbrush before.

   "The cash?"

   "Here," the man held out the money. "Hurry up."

   Y/N sniffed out of disdain, the disgusting thing could at least be a little more considerate.

Y/N kept his eyes on the hooded man and carefully took a small see-through bag of white powder out of his inner coat pocket.

   "You alone?" the client asked.

   "No questions."

   "Just being friendly," the man put his hands up in a show of harmlessness, but the man's smile and a small glint in his eyes told Y/N otherwise, and he felt every muscle in his body tense up.

   The client cackled. "Loosen up a little kid, you look like you've shat yourself."

   Y/N sighed and allowed himself to relax a little before reaching out for the cash with the bag of drugs held out in his other hand.

   In a matter of seconds the man had snatched the bag and pulled a knife out, the sharp tip gently caressing the pulse point on Y/N's neck.

   "What's an inexperienced puppy like you doing out here?" the man snarled. "Now be a good dog and give me everything you have on you."