Chapter Text
The rough brick dragged against his clothes as his back was slammed up against the wall, and Thanos hissed through his teeth as heavy hands shook at his shoulders.
“I’ll get the money, alright!” His voice came out breathy and frantic, and he hated how he actually sounded like that. He was Thanos the rapper! He didn’t get pushed around, intimidated. That sort of thing didn’t happen to him.
But it was, and as he looked up into the dark eyes of his loan shark, Thanos had never felt less sure of himself. He winced, thick fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders to hold him in place. The grip was so tight, he was sure they’d leave a bruise. “I just need a little more time!”
“Time?” Mr Han, the man who Thanos was indebted to crossed his arms, nodding to the man holding Thanos against the wall. He was only short, and a little pudgy, but there was something terrifying about the coldness of his eyes, the way he looked Thanos up and down. Disgust, anger, and… something else glinting in their dark depths. It unsettled him to his very stomach.
The waves of angry, alpha pheromones didn’t help, either.
The thug shoved Thanos back into the wall again, this time his head slamming backwards and cracking against the brick. The cry of pain broke free from his throat before he could even try to stifle it, and a dull ache began to build at the base of his crown.
Mr Han took a single step forward, leaning into Thanos’s space so that his face was mere inches from his own. The stench of his breath hit his nostrils, musty and sour, and Thanos fought back a gag. “I’ve already given you plenty of that. Tell me, Thanos,” he said his stage name with mockery, lip curling. “How long has it been since I kindly loaned you my money?”
“Six months…” Thanos mumbled, trying to turn his face away. A hand shot out then, gripping his jaw and forcing him to stare straight ahead.
“What was that?” Mr Han’s voice was iron.
“Ah!” A bone in his jaw clicked as the fingers dug in harder. “Six months! It’s been six months.”
“Six months.” Mr Han roughly released him with a click of his tongue. He tilted his head, watching as Thanos rubbed at his neck, dark eyes tracking the movement of his fingers. He fought back a shudder.
Mr Han’s eyes flickered to one of his thugs, and after a small nod of his head, the hands pressing Thanos against the wall seized his shoulders, flipping him arounds so his front ground into the wall instead. Pinned with his hands behind his back, Thanos turned his head to side, so that his nose wouldn’t get crushed against the brick.
“And how much have I seen back from you since then?” Leaning into his space a second time, Mr Han’s cold eyes regarded him like dirt.
Thanos stayed stubbornly silent, and Mr Han released a disappointed sigh. “I’ll tell you how much. Nothing! Not even a single won. You’re testing my patience, omega.”
And there it was. That word. Omega.
How he hated it.
One word, one tiny little part of him, and it defined him in the eyes of everyone else. It was worse than a fucking prison sentence. At least those had an expiry date. For Thanos, it was something he could never change.
At first he tried to ignore it. He presented at fourteen, a little late for a boy of his age, and after a pretty nasty first heat, he thought that not a lot would change. How wrong he had been.
When he had first set out into the rap scene, he had been naïve. Hopeful, wide-eyed and bushy tailed, ready to try his luck in the alpha dominated industry. Breaking barriers, that was what he decided he’d do.
For a brief time he thought he could actually make it as he was. That he could grin and bear the alpha bravado, hide the way some of the things they would rap about made him squirm in discomfort. Easy arms thrown over his shoulder, little comments about his looks, his rap. Too soft, too polite, too omega. Whatever, he had thick skin, he could take it.
And then some label executive took the opportunity to get a little too handsy, too personal. Whispering in his ear how he could make him a star, if he just let him sneak a touch, a kiss, a fuck. He had hightailed it out of there in a fright seconds later. Barely sixteen, he had gone by Subong then.
It wasn’t until he had gone back home, wiped his tears away, that he decided to toughen up. Subong couldn’t make it in this career, but someone else could. Choi Subong had to die, so that Thanos the rapper could be born. Armed with new lyrics and a freshly ordered prescription of suppressants, he headed back out there.
And he actually made it.
Masquerading as a beta came all too easy to him, until hiding his designation came like second nature.
He was tall, full of wiry muscle where omegas were often soft. His voice was naturally deeper, his features sharp instead of delicate, like so many omegas were. The tattoos and piercings didn’t hurt either. He passed as a beta and passed well.
So it was only natural for him to carry on living that way in his everyday life too.
But things didn’t last forever. He should have known that it wouldn’t last.
When one had loan sharks tailing their every move, there were some things you couldn’t hide. It was only a matter of time until Mr Han found out what he was. And Thanos’s world came crashing down around him.
A hand fisted into the hair at his nape, and he let out a pained gasp as his head was tipped back and upwards. “I’ll find the money, I swear!” He rambled desperately.
Mr Han hummed. “See to it that you do. I’ve been lenient with you, more so than with any alpha or beta that owes me. But even my goodwill has its limits.” Hot breath ghosted against his ear. “Even for a sweet little thing like you.”
He cried out again as the hands circling his wrists tightened, nails digging into the soft skin of his pulse point as they twisted his arms further up his back.
Mr Han laughed behind him, a disbelieving sound and it forced the panic that had been steadily building up and out, roaring in his ears. He bucked backwards, instincts screaming at him to break free, but he soon froze when his throat was gripped tightly, a thumb pressing against his scent glands and squeezing threateningly. The whimper that escaped his throat was humiliatingly pathetic.
Looking down at him, Mr Han watched him struggle, his face a carefully controlled mask. Then he snorted, rolling his eyes. “Three weeks.”
Thanos gasped as his throat was released. “Thank you!”
“You have three weeks to bring me my money, and not a single day more.” Mr Han spoke on like he didn't hear, a bored tone to his words. "You remember the contract you signed, don’t you?”
How could he ever forget? “Yes.”
“Good. Because if you don’t… Well, we’ll have to find a different way for you to pay me back, won’t we?” A hand reached around his stomach, slipping beneath the flimsy material of his shirt. Warm fingers splayed across the flat expanse of his abdomen, and Thanos squeezed his eyes shut, the tears that had started to build leaking free.
“I’ll find the money!” He insisted, and he tried not to flinch as the hand palming his stomach slid across his skin as it slowly retreated. Only to be replaced by a sharp nose at his neck, and a deep heavy sniff. Thanos didn't dare move, even when Mr Han chuckled darkly.
“I’ll believe that when I see it.” A cold smile flickered across the alpha’s face as he pulled away.“I can’t wait to have you in my bed, Choi Subong. In fact, I’ll be almost disappointed if you do materialise that cash out of nowhere.”
He was never going to let that happen. Thanos swore he’d get that money, even if it killed him trying.
Yanked back to his front, Thanos shuddered out a breath as cool lips pressed against his forehead, and a calloused finger caressed beneath his chin. Then he was roughly shoved away.
“I’ll see you in three weeks,” Mr Han said, the thin smile never reaching his eyes. He leered, eyes raking over Thanos’s body a final time, then he turned his back dismissively. The two thugs with him pushed away from the wall, following him as he retreated out of the alley, taking with them the pungent stench of alpha.
Thanos collapsed against the wall, his chest heaving as he sucked in air, panic and adrenaline coursing through his veins. As soon as he stopped shaking enough, he hightailed it in the opposite direction, not wanting to stay a moment longer, lest Mr Han decide he wasn’t finished with him after all.
He didn’t stop until he was back safe in his shitty apartment, slamming the door shut behind him. Fingers still trembling, Thanos fumbled for the latch, only breathing a sigh of relief once the door was safely secure.
And then the tears came.
Hot and fast down his cheeks, and he wept pitifully, hating Mr Han, hating himself, hating that stupid coin he was dumb enough to pour all his money into.
Fucking MG Coin.
Just when Thanos thought he was above his nature, he just had to let some pretty boy alpha, one he’d never even met, sweet talk him into flitting away everything he had. He could still remember how it felt whenever he watched one of his videos, the butterflies in his stomach.
Only now Thanos felt nothing but rage, and he screamed, kicking the door once, twice before storming to his bedroom. Once there, he fumbled over the surface of his dresser, a cry of relief escaping his throat as he closed his hand around the small metal cross. Then he flopped down onto the bed.
He tore open the lid, picking out one of the blue pills and he placed it on his tongue, allowing it to melt. For good measure, he reached across to his bedside cabinet, pulling open the drawer and fishing out his suppressants, and he popped one of them too. Thanos closed his eyes as the high finally kicked in, endorphins flooding his system until his brain felt comfortingly fuzzy.
1.19 billion won. How the hell was he supposed to find all that in three weeks? He wasn’t, and he’d be damned if that wasn’t Mr Han’s plan all along.
How could he be so stupid? He knew what signing away his bodily rights meant, especially as an omega. But he did it anyway and now the walls were closing in. He could practically feel the hands on his skin, teeth in his neck and it was almost enough to sober him immediately.
Almost.
Wiping a hand across his eyes, Thanos fought for his composure. There was a way out of this, he just had to find it.
Then his sights fell upon a painting hanging on the wall opposite him. A landscape of the Hangang bridge. It was his favourite, expensive, and the last artwork he had to his name. He’d pawned all others months ago, but this one he just couldn’t give up.
He let his eyes linger on it for a while, until he was pushing up from the bed and slinging the cross necklace around his neck.
Looks like he found his way out after all.
Thanos didn’t hesitate as he crashed towards the front door, swiping his vape from the kitchen counter as he went.
~~~
The waters of the Han River swirled below him, waves chopping and thrashing, waiting to swallow him whole. It was an awfully long way down.
But what alternative did he have?
There was no way in hell he was finding all that money in three weeks, it was practically impossible! A fact Thanos was sure Mr Han was fully aware of. Planned it, even.
He remembered the way he breathed in his scent, nose pressed hard against his neck, his hand roving across Thanos’s stomach, right where it would swell when filled with a pup. It made his stomach lurch all over again.
No, Mr Han wasn’t going to get his way. Thanos would rather be dead than ever be his.
Before he could lose his nerve, Thanos grasped the railings tightly, stepping up onto the ledge and leaning over to stare down at the river. All he had to do was lift his leg over, then the other, let go and he would be free.
The thought didn’t stop his hands from trembling and his vision blurring as tears filled his eyes for what felt like the millionth time.
“Excuse me, sir? A moment of your time?”
He startled at the voice, hands slipping on the railings and he wrapped his arms around them before he fell. Thanos looked over his shoulder, and stood on the pavement behind him was a man.
Tall and slim, he was dressed in a smart suit of deep black, white shirt with a tie. By his side he held a dark briefcase with silver clasps. Unassuming but expensive, Thanos could to tell. He looked like some sort of businessman, a salesman perhaps?
The man smiled at him, his eyes never leaving Thanos’s face, and he felt his hackles rise.
Pushing himself up straight, he sneered over his shoulder at the man. “What the fuck do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy here?” Busy preparing to throw himself into the water, but he didn’t need to know that.
The strange man dipped his head politely. “Of course, and you can get right back to it once you’ve heard what I have to say.”
Great, most likely a salesman after all.
Despite himself, Thanos turned his back to the railings, shoving one hand into his pocket as he shook his fingers at the salesman with the other. “I’m not interested in whatever shit you’re selling. I don’t have the cash to spare right now.”
The salesman’s smile stretched wider, almost uncanny. “Perhaps I can help with that.” He set the briefcase on pavement, crouching down and unfastening the clasps, rotating it around to show Thanos the contents. “How about a game of Ddakji? I’ll make it worth your while.”
Nestled snugly inside the briefcase sat two paper envelopes, one bright red and the other deep blue. But what really caught Thanos’s eye was what sat beside them.
Cash. And a lot of it. For the first time in what felt like forever, Thanos felt a longing, a desperation that wasn’t just a craving for drugs. “Ddakji?”
“That’s right.” The salesman nodded again, looking up at Thanos from where he was crouched. Was that all he did? Smile and nod? He lifted the envelopes out of the case, holding them both in one hand. “Win and this can be yours. 100,000 won.” Then he straightened back up.
Something about the situation rang alarm bells inside his head.
There was something unsettling about the man. Something Thanos couldn’t quite put his finger on. Whether it was the sharp suit, the collar pressed crisp, or the smile on his face, friendly and unassuming, yet not quite reaching his eyes.
He stared at the man’s outstretched hand, the Ddakji envelopes tucked between his fingers, then down at the open briefcase at his feet. The briefcase holding the wad of cash.
Suspicious, his instincts screamed at him. Who goes about giving out money like that? You should run, run away!
Unfortunately for him, Thanos had plenty of practice at ignoring his instincts.
He took an unsteady drag of his vape, then he stepped down from the ledge, striding over towards the man. Behind them the traffic roared onwards.
“I just have to flip it once?” Thanos asked, snatching the blue envelope. He shoved his vape deep into his trouser pocket.
The strange man nodded, his smile stretching even wider. “Just once, and the 100,000 is yours.” He bent down, setting the red envelope flat on the ground, straightening up again and gesturing for Thanos to throw.
It seemed like a fair deal. Easy. Almost too easy, but Thanos couldn’t think about that. Not when all that cash was practically winking at him.
But just as Thanos lifted the envelope high above his head, the man spoke again.
“Ah, and if you lose, you will owe me 100,000 instead.”
He balked, and the blue envelope fell from his grasp, hitting the red one with so little force it barely even moved. Thanos stared down at it for a few moments, frozen, and then his head snapped upwards. “What? But I don’t have 100,000!”
The Salesman’s expression hardly moved, his smile still as disarming, eyes just as cold. And then Thanos realised what it was that set him on edge.
The man had no scent. No sugary sweetness of an omega; nor the sterile cleanliness of a beta; not even the heavy musk of an alpha.
Nothing.
Then the salesman bent down, retrieving the blue envelope. And in one graceful move he sent the envelope flying downwards, arm movement strong and sharp. The red envelope flipped with ease.
“I win.”
Thanos saw red. “You bastard! You set me up!” He took a stumbling step forward, kicking at the envelopes by his feet. “I bet this thing is rigged, isn’t it? I won’t flip it for shit!”
He was rushing at the Salesman then, fist swinging, intent on striking the man right in the nose.
With lightning reflexes, the man caught his wrist, still sore from being twisted up his back, and Thanos hissed in pain. The man remained just as unaffected by the outburst as he was by everything else.
“You don’t have the money, you say? Well, that’s alright.” He let go of Thanos’s wrist, moving his hands behind his back as he tilted his head. “You can just pay with your body instead.”
Thanos’s blood ran cold.
“Hey, I don’t know where you got that idea from, but I don’t do that kind of thing.” He couldn’t hide the way his voice shook, nor the way his scent spiked and sharpened, sweet lemon turning tart. He pointed a trembling hand at the Salesman’s chest, voice raising in pitch and panic. “You heard that from Mr Han, didn’t you? You trying to set me up, huh? Is that it?!”
He felt the sting of the slap before he even noticed the man’s hand moving, and Thanos recoiled backwards with a yelp, fingers brushing over his cheekbone.
The salesman folded his hands behind his back, as if nothing happened, and if it weren’t for the lingering pain, the ringing in his ears, Thanos would have questioned if it even had.
He was frozen as he watched the salesman bend down, picking up the blue envelope which he turned over in his hand. “Each slap is worth 100,000 won,” he explained, with an incline of his head. Then he offered the envelope to Thanos again. “Would you like to play again?”
Thanos looked down at the envelopes, then at the cash in the briefcase, before finally back at the salesman’s face. His expression hadn’t changed except for a slight raise of his eyebrows.
Snatching the envelope from the man’s hand, Thanos lifted it high above his head. “Fuck it.”
He missed.
Then missed again.
Each time the sharp sting of a slap bit into his cheek, and he didn’t need a mirror to know his skin had turned red and blotchy. But still he continued. 100,000 won was too much to pass up.
Each time the salesman would stiffen his hand, fingers straight and taught, and he’d swing his hand back with vigour, Thanos’s recoil from the force of it growing bigger and bigger. He had to be an alpha, or at least a beta with strength like that.
Each time he maintained the neutral expression, like every hit was nothing but a chore. But Thanos could see it in his eyes, the gleam of amusement, pleasure even.
Was he getting off on this? Sick fucker!
But then, on his fifth attempt did his luck finally turn. The euphoria that flooded his body as he watched the red envelope lift and turn over, it was better than any high a drug could give him.
He whooped in his victory. “Yes! You see that!” He pointed down at the two envelopes, the smile breaking across his face as he looked back up at the salesman.
With a solitary nod, the Salesman retrieved the briefcase, taking out the bundle of notes and holding them out to Thanos. “Congratulations, sir. Here are your winnings.”
He took the cash eagerly, flicking through the notes as he counted every single won. It was exactly 100,000 as promised, but still nowhere near enough.
Letting out a low whistle, Thanos watched the salesman tuck the ddakji envelopes back into the case. “Say,“ he began casually, meandering over to the salesman’s side, “you don’t think I could play another round?”
But the salesman was already clicking the briefcase closed. He shook his head, lips a thin line. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that’s all you can win for today.”
Thanos fingered the notes again, then he shoved them deep into his back pocket. “Forget it, then.” Perhaps Mr Han would offer him some leniency once he saw he could get some money, extend his deadline for a little longer.
He began to turn away when the salesman's voice rang out again. “There is a place, where you can play more games like this, win bigger prizes.”
The salesman had nothing else on him, and Thanos grew wary of what sort of game the man would require of him. Despite the desperation building in him, he knew when to quit while he was ahead.
“I think I’ll be alright,” he said, raising a hand as he began to walk away once more. “Thanks, man.”
There was quiet, and then: “Choi Subong.”
He froze.
Thanos had never disclosed his full name, not after he'd made it big, and the salesman certainly didn’t look like a fan.
He stopped in his tracks, turning around on the spot. The salesman was still stood where he had left him, briefcase dangling from one hand. His dark eyes were fixed on Thanos, creased at the edges. He spoke again, in that chillingly casual tone, and Thanos couldn’t move.
“Your name is Choi Subong, though most know you by the stage name Thanos. You present yourself as a beta rapper, but you’re anything but. If it weren’t for the suppressants in which you dose yourself, they’d all know your true nature, omega.”
Thanos flinched at the word, but it was like a spell was broken. He stormed back towards the salesman, fisting his hand into his blazer. But before he could yank the man forwards, hiss a seething question, a hand closed over his wrist.
The salesman squeezed warningly, leaning his face down into Thanos’s own. He was so close their breath mingled, and if he had a scent, Thanos would have been dowsed in it. “You wasted all your fortune by pouring it into a cryptocurrency that turned out to be nothing but a scam. Combined with your loans and drug habits, you’ve raked up a debt of 1.19 billion won.
“The loan shark you owe has given you a deadline, but it’s not nearly enough. He’ll sell your body, perhaps even more, and where will that leave you?”
Thanos wrenched his arm free, drawing it close to his chest. “Who the hell are you? How do you know all that about me?” His heart threatened to beat right out of his chest.
“You’re running out of time, running out of options. But I’m offering you a chance to change all that. Why not take it?” Out of his blazer pocket, the salesman pulled out a small brown business card, offering it to Thanos. He looked down at it, and before he realised it, he was reaching out, fingers brushing against the card.
Thanos snapped his gaze back up to the salesman, and for once the man wasn’t smiling. No, his expression looked oddly sincere, and when Thanos gave the business card a tug, he let it slide from his grip with ease.
The Salesman leaned in close, the gentle puff of his breath brushing his skin. “You should hurry, though. We don’t have many places left.”
Looking down at the card, the first thing Thanos noticed was the three black shapes printed at the centre. All uniform in size, neat and stark against the mottled brown of the paper. Circle, square, triangle. He bushed his thumb over the shapes before turning it over, the other side displaying nothing else other than a phone number.
But when he looked up again, the salesman was gone. The briefcase, the envelopes, all of it as if they were never even there. Only the cash in his pocket and the business card said otherwise, but as it stood, Thanos was alone on the bridge.
A car shot by, close to the curb and it made him jump, the heat from the exhaust a hot blast that almost blew the card from between his fingers. Thanos fumbled to keep a hold of it, creasing it slightly as he tightened his grip.
He looked down at the card, at the phone number and the shapes and the crease line down the middle.
Then he started to laugh.