Your Quidditch playing beater boyfriend was going to be the death of you. 

“But what’s wrong with this one?” You huffed, your shoulders sagging as you glanced down at the fabric that clung to your body like second skin, running a hand across the diamantes that shimmered like tiny stars sewn into the dress. “I’m running out of options, and you said you liked this one.” 

Mattheo’s grin widened and his eyes drifted down your body lazily, drinking in the strappy heels you’d paired with your outfit and the matching shimmery handbag. His gaze lifted slowly, sliding up your legs, gliding over the soft skin of your thighs that was on show, still silky and glimmering from your shower earlier. He hummed, his eyebrow lifting at the short hem that left little to the imagination, the tip of his tongue brushing across his bottom lip. 

“I never said I didn’t like it,” his voice rumbled, raspy and low like it often was when he was trying to turn you on. His arms flexed as he moved to push himself up, meeting your gaze with a salacious glint in his eyes. “Quite the opposite, actually. Your arse looks phenomenal…” 

“Mattheo.” You whined, arms slapping down at your sides, shooting him a withering stare to scold his lewdness. “You promised you’d help me choose.” 

“I am helping.” He insisted, his pointer finger twirling in a small circle, a silent instruction to give in to his insatiable nature. He watched you through half lidded eyes, making no effort to hide the way his hand skirted over his crotch, adjusting himself. “C’mon pretty girl, spin for me.” 

It was impossible to stay angry at him. The tight lipped scowl you’d been directing his way morphing into a wry, barely contained grin, your cheeks heating under his watchful gaze. It was too easy to give in to him when he looked at you like that. 

“Pretty please,” he coaxed, tilting his head at the smile that was beginning to bloom on your lips, knowing you couldn’t say no when he asked so nicely.

Your teeth bit at your bottom lip. Noticing the way his eyes trailed across your body, the smugness in his expression as he reached down to ease the growing strain beneath his pyjama bottoms— it was all too much. He’d adjusted himself while you contemplated giving in, sitting up and leaning back on his hands, his legs spread wide as he waited with bated breath. 

Slowly your hands unclenched, your heels tapping against the floor as you spun slowly for him, shy under his stare as you showed off every angle of your dress. A soft sigh left him as your back turned, and when you were finally facing him again, his eyes were blown wide and his lips had parted to let out another strangled groan.

“Salazar’s bloody ballsack,” he murmured, head dropping back to stare at the ceiling for a moment, collecting himself. “You’re not wearing that anywhere.” 

You scoffed, heels clunking loudly as you walked across the dormitory, pausing at the foot of the bed, right between his spread legs, and glared at him. “You’re my boyfriend, you know, not my father.” 

His head was level with your sternum in this position, and he had to crane his neck to look up at you. His eyes darkening as his hands planted against your thighs, slithering up to your hips, one curling at your waist, pulling you closer, and the other resting against your arse. 

“You… are not… wearing that… anywhere.” He repeated slowly, as though you might’ve misheard him the first time. “Especially not around the rest of the Quidditch team. Otherwise I might just have to permanently blind the lot of them.” 

Your brows lifted humorously, your hands coming to rest against his shoulder and tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. Your fingers gently twisted in his hair, gaze flitting over his broad shoulders and toned arms. That familiar sensation began to curl in your stomach as your thighs pressed together, long past caring about what dress you were going to wear later.

“Oh really?” you hummed, knowing full well he’d never really tell you that you couldn’t wear something. You tugged softly at his hair, pulling his head back just that bit farther and gazing into his eyes. 

“Mhm, really.” Mattheo nodded, his hands beginning to slide across your body, groping and stroking at you reverently. You smirked, watching the glee in his face as his hands explored. 

“Think of the team, Slytherin are close to winning the Cup,” he murmured in a deeply dramatic tone that had your eyes rolling, “What use is Malfoy in catching the snitch without any eyes?” 

His thumbs dug into the fabric as though testing how flimsy it was, still looking up at you with that glazed look in his eyes. 

“Exactly,” you grinned, cupping his cheek and stroking your thumb across his cheekbone, “Think of the team. They deserve a morale boost.” 

Mattheo, to his credit, had the sense to see you were only teasing, even as a look of pure horror broke out on his face. 

“They do not deserve that kind of privilege.” 

You began to giggle at the seriousness in his tone, the way he sat up straighter and seemed to snap out of his lustful teasing. The way his face softened at your laugh frustratingly endearing as he gazed up at you, like it was the best thing he’d heard all day. 

“Besides, you're my girlfriend, not theirs.” he muttered with a pout. 

You rolled your eyes fondly, fingers threading through his curls again as you laughed, this side of him was your favourite. The softer, vulnerable side he only showed when the two of you were alone. He practically purred under the attention, shameless as ever, tilting his head further into your touch.

“You know,” you mused lightly, “most boyfriends would just say their girlfriends look nice.”

“I did say you looked nice.”

“You said my arse looked phenomenal.”

“It does.” 

He maintained his straight face for all of two seconds, before you snorted in disbelief, and he grinned at the sound. Utterly pleased with himself for dragging such a sound from you. The two of you were quiet for a moment, and his eyes raked over you once more, slower this time. Appreciating every inch of your body. 

“Fine,” he sighed heavily. Relenting though he sounded bitter about it, “You can wear the dress tonight.” 

Your brows lifted in surprise, pausing your fingers that had begun to scratch at his scalp. 

“Wait, really?” Your face lit up, peering down at him with a puzzled look. 

“No.” he replied almost instantly, grip tightening around your hips, “Absolutely not. I just wanted to see your face.” 

But not without a condition.

You have to beat him in a soju game.

And now there is a camera set up across the room, recording everything like some kind of evidence, capturing who will pass out first, and you are far too determined to let it be you.

“Seongje yaaaa… just let your pretty girlfriend win…” you mumble, your voice dragging slightly as the alcohol settles in, your head tilting as you look at him with that shameless expression you know he folds for.

“Not happening…” he replies, just as tipsy, his words slower than usual, a faint, lazy smile pulling at his lips as he pours another shot for both of you like this is still completely under his control.

“Hmmm…” you squint at him for a moment before raising your hands above your head, forming little ears.

“Seongje… you look like a cat…”

He lets out a quiet chuckle, the sound softer than what anyone else would ever hear from him, and simply hums in response as he slides your glass toward you, already pouring another round without even asking.

Maybe it is the alcohol, maybe it is the dim lighting of his room casting shadows that make everything feel softer, or maybe he just looks unfairly handsome when he is drunk, because the way his eyes sit behind those glasses, slightly unfocused yet still sharp, is enough to make your stomach twist in ways you refuse to think too deeply about.

“There was a cat… in my house… when I was seven,” he starts, his words uneven, slower than usual, like each one has to be dragged out.

“I don’t remember what it was… but its name was Alexander.”

A pause.

“It was fucking ginger.”

He laughs at that, taking another shot, and you follow right after, watching him more than you should, because for a moment it hits you; how strange it is to imagine him like that, just a kid with a stupidly named cat, before everything, before the fights, before the Union, before he became someone everyone else is scared of.

Because to them, he is ruthless, emotionless, something closer to a weapon than a person.

But to you—

He is just a boy.

A boy who plays games, who struggles to say what he feels, who pretends he does not care when he clearly does, and yes, maybe a boy who solves too many problems with his fists, but still just a boy nonetheless.

You have told him to leave the Union before, more than once, and every single time he gives you the same answer, like it is rehearsed.

“When the time comes.”

“I thought giving it an English name would be… cool,” he mutters, sounding amused at his younger self, shaking his head slightly.

“I hope it got reborn,” you say, your words starting to blur together as the alcohol catches up with you,

“as a ginger… still named Alexander.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking at you like he always does when you say something questionable.

“You’re weird.”

“Correction,” you grin lazily, “I’m romantic.”

He looks at you then really looks. And for a second, his eyes soften in a way that almost feels dangerous.

“Fuck… you’re pretty, love,” he mutters, finishing his drink like it is nothing.

You smile, slow and dazed.

“Hmm… are you even real? Seongje, you’re perfect.”

He lets out a quiet breath, shaking his head, because perfect is the last thing he would ever call himself. Not as a person, not as a student, not even as someone who is supposed to be good for you and yet you sit there looking at him like he is something worth keeping.

“No,” he says, a faint smirk forming,

“I’m fictional.”

“Aww… I’d still love you even if you were fictional, bro,” you reply without thinking.

“…Now that’s romantic.”

And just like that, he drops his head onto the table.

Game over.

You laugh softly, pushing yourself up despite the dizziness, your steps uneven as you walk over to him before lowering yourself beside him, resting your head near his arm, your eyes slowly closing as the room fades into quiet.

____________________________

“Are you done yet?”

He has asked the same question at least five times in the past minute, his patience clearly wearing thin as he watches you carefully paint a tiny star on his thumb like it is the most important task in the world.

“Almost,” you murmur, not even looking up, too focused on getting the shape right.

“Hurry the fuck up, ___.”

“Two more minutes,” you reply, finally glancing up just long enough to give him that pout you know works every time.

And it does.

Of course it does.

He clicks his tongue, clearly annoyed, but he does not pull his hand away, does not complain again, just sits there watching you, his gaze lingering longer than it should.

Because the way you look right now, focused, slightly frowning, eyes shining over something so small.It does something to him he refuses to name.

There are a lot of privileges in this world.

But being loved by Geum Seongje?

That is something else entirely.

One moment, he is out there, smirking, cursing, throwing punches like nothing matters.

And the next—

He is here, sitting still, letting you do this, letting you hold his hand like it belongs to you.

“All done,” you say finally, lifting his hand with a proud smile.

“Look.”

He glances at it briefly, unimpressed as always.

“What’s the point?” he mutters.

“Not like it’ll make me punch faster.”

“The point is that your girlfriend is happy, Seongje,” you say, quieter this time, like it should be obvious.

A small smirk forms on his lips.

“…That’s enough, then.”

—--------------------------------------

The bowling alley is loud in a way that almost feels overwhelming, filled with flashing neon lights that reflect off every surface, the constant crash of bowling pins echoing in the background, mixed with laughter, shouting, and the low, familiar noise of Union members scattered around like they own the place.

In the far corner, away from most of the chaos but still very much part of it, Geum Seongje sits slouched in his chair, completely absorbed in his Nintendo Switch as if nothing else around him matters, while you sit beside him, legs crossed, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok, occasionally letting out small laughs at things you will probably forget in the next five minutes.

You barely notice the two figures approaching until they are already standing in front of you.

Baek Dong-ha and Do Seong-mok, both carrying the food you had casually asked them to pick up earlier, even though you very well could have asked anyone else.

“___, you could’ve just told the kids to buy this,” Seong-mok mutters, clearly not impressed as he hands you the bag.

“Why wait for us?”

You look up at them with a grin that already gives away your answer.

“Well, would they know how I like my food the way my precious friends do?” you say sweetly, dragging out the word precious just enough to make it annoying.

Dong-ha lets out a dry scoff, rolling his eyes as he crosses his arms.

“You only pull the ‘friend’ card when you want us to do something—”

He stops.

Mid-sentence.

Because his eyes finally land on Seongje’s hand.

“…Is that nail polish?” he blurts out, the words slipping before he can stop them, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and barely contained laughter.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Yes,” you reply proudly, sitting up a little straighter.

“And I did it.”

For a second, both of them go completely still, their expressions frozen as if they are trying very hard not to react, but the slight twitch at the corner of Dong-ha’s lips and the way Seong-mok looks away immediately says everything.

They are losing it.

Internally.

Barely holding on.

Before either of them can say anything else—

The sound of a game ending clicks from the Switch.

Seongje looks up.

Just one glance.

That’s all it takes.

Their expressions snap back to normal so fast it is almost impressive, like nothing happened, like they were not two seconds away from laughing at something that could very well get them killed.

“The fuck are you laughing at?” he says, voice flat, eyes sharp enough to cut through both of them without effort.

“Nothing, boss,” Dong-ha answers immediately, too quickly, shaking his head.

“We just think ___ did a good job—”

“Cut the shit.”

The words come out cold, effortless, like he has already lost interest.

And just like that, he looks back down at his game, completely dismissing them as if they were never important enough to begin with.

Conversation over.

Dong-ha and Seong-mok exchange a quick look before stepping away without another word, clearly deciding that whatever joke they had in mind is not worth risking their lives over.

You, on the other hand, are completely unbothered, already digging into the food they brought, happily eating as if nothing just happened.

“When they tell the others,” Seongje mutters after a moment, his eyes still glued to the screen, fingers moving lazily over the controls,

“They're gonna think I’ve gone soft.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head as you take another bite.

“Come on, Seongje,” you say, nudging his arm slightly,

“no one’s going to believe that.”

He hums faintly, unconvinced.

You grin, mischief creeping into your expression.

“That’s like saying Yeon Si-eun is secretly a cat boy…”

A pause.

“…or that Na Baek-jin is out here kissing Baku.”

ivy

Seongjae's cigarette smoke mingled with the cold air of the alley, creating a gray haze around his relaxed face. He was wearing his signature orange jacket, and the ring his girlfriend had given him for his birthday glinted on his finger as he held the cigarette with that dangerous elegance that defined him.

Beside him, _____ was leaning against the brick wall with her eyes closed. She was pale. Not that beautiful, magazine-model pale, but a sickly, waxy pale, with dark circles under her eyes that makeup couldn't hide.

She’d been like this for weeks, and Seongjae couldn't stand it anymore. His girlfriend was a beautiful girl, she looked like a doll—he’d always thought so—but right now...

"You look like shit," Seongjae said, blowing smoke to the side, though his sharp eyes didn't leave her.

"Thanks, babe. Always so charming," _____ murmured without opening her eyes. Her voice sounded weak, raspy.

Seongjae clicked his tongue, irritated. He didn't like this. He didn't like it when things spiraled out of his control, and _____’s health was something he couldn't intimidate, beat up, or bribe.

She’d been like this for over two weeks: dizzy, tired, refusing food.

"I told you to eat something decent, not that garbage from the convenience store," he growled, stepping closer. He placed a hand on her forehead. His palm was large, rough from dehydration, but the contact was surprisingly gentle. "You don't have a fever. You're just… off. It pisses me off."

"I'm just tired, Seongjae. Leave me alone for a bit."

"If you were tired, you'd sleep and get over it. But you've been sleeping fourteen hours a day and you still look like a corpse."

_____ opened her eyes and glared at him, but the effort seemed to drain her. She brought a hand to her stomach and grimaced in pain, feeling bile rising up her throat again.

"I think I'm gonna throw up again."

Seongjae rolled his eyes, threw the cigarette to the ground, and crushed it with his boot.

"Shit, not again." Despite his complaining, he moved fast. He grabbed her arm to steady her, his grip firm preventing her from swaying. "Let's go to the apartment. I don't want to get a fucking fine because of you."

"I don't want to go on the bike. The motion makes me dizzy," she complained.

"Fine, shit, we'll walk then. But I don't want to hear a single complaint."

They started walking. Seongjae kept a slower pace than usual, matching hers, though his posture remained arrogant, defiant, glaring at anyone who dared to look at his pale girl.

_____ tried to keep up, but the world was spinning. The neon lights of the city signs stretched and blurred together. The traffic noise turned into an unbearable buzzing.

She felt a sharp prick in her head and the ground seemed to vanish.

"Seongjae…" she whispered.

He turned just in time, expecting to see her looking green or about to vomit, but _____ collapsed. Her knees gave way like water.

Seongjae reacted with the reflexes of a guy used to taking and dodging hits to the face. He caught her before she hit the asphalt, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her against his chest.

"Hey." He patted her cheek, expecting her to slap his hand away and insult him. "Hey, wake up. It's not funny."

_____ didn't answer. Her head lolled back, limp. Her skin was cold and clammy.

Seongjae's heart, which rarely raced for anything other than the adrenaline of a fight, gave a violent thud in his chest. An icy sensation, far worse than any punch he’d ever taken, shot down his spine.

"Shit!" he yelled, looking around. People were walking by, looking on with curiosity but not stopping. "Make way, you useless bastards!"

He scooped her up in his arms, bridal style, not caring about the weight or wrinkling his expensive clothes. He ran toward where he'd left the bike but realized he couldn't take her like that.

"Taxi… I need a damn taxi," he grumbled, breathing heavily. He stood in the middle of the street, raising his hand, and when a taxi tried to drive past, Seongjae kicked the bumper with such fury that the driver slammed on the brakes out of fright.

He opened the back door and placed _____ inside carefully, then got in himself.

"Hospital. Now." His voice was low, a direct threat. "And if you take more than ten minutes, I'll break your teeth."

The driver, seeing the wild look in the guy's eyes, didn't ask questions. He floored it.

The hospital was white, bright, and smelled of antiseptic. Seongjae hated hospitals. They reminded him of weakness, broken bones, and people complaining.

He was pacing back and forth in the ER waiting room like a caged tiger. People scrambled out of his way, intimidated by his violent aura and flashy orange jacket.

They’d been in there for forty minutes. Forty fucking minutes.

"Family of patient Jeong _____," a nurse called out with a clipboard.

Seongjae was in front of her in a second.

"That's me. What's wrong? Is it serious? Did someone poison her?" His mind worked fast, thinking of people who might have taken revenge on him.

The nurse, an older woman who had seen it all, wasn't phased by the guy's aggressive attitude. She looked at him over her glasses.

"She is stable. She woke up a moment ago. The fainting spell was caused by a drop in blood pressure combined with mild anemia and dehydration."

Seongjae let out the breath he was holding. Not dead. Not poison.

"Dehydration? I told her to drink water. She's so damn stubborn." He ran a hand through his hair, messing up his perfect style. "Fine, I'm taking her. I'll buy her Pedialyte or whatever."

"Wait a moment, young man." The nurse stopped him with a gesture. "Those symptoms are secondary. The main cause of her state is her condition."

"Condition?" Seongjae frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Does she have a disease?"

The nurse sighed and looked at the clipboard. "She is eight weeks pregnant."

The world stopped.

The hospital noise, phones ringing, gurneys rolling… everything vanished. Only the nurse's face remained, and those words bouncing around inside Seongjae's skull like a rubber ball in a small room.

"What?" he asked. His voice came out flat, toneless.

"She's pregnant. Two months. Nausea and fatigue are normal, but in her case, they've been severe, that's why she fainted. She needs care, rest, and…"

Seongjae stopped listening.

Pregnant.

_____ was pregnant.

A baby.

His mind traveled back two months. A party they’d been invited to. Alcohol. His apartment. Laughter. Sex. They hadn't used protection that night. He remembered thinking "who cares," with the arrogance of someone who believes consequences don't apply to him.

"Can I see her?" he interrupted the nurse. He didn't sound aggressive anymore. He sounded… stunned.

"Go ahead. Bed 4."

Seongjae walked down the hall. His legs felt strange, like they weren't his own.

He opened the curtain to Bed 4.

_____ was lying on the gurney, an IV in her arm. She looked small amidst the white sheets. She was awake, staring at the ceiling with eyes full of tears.

When she saw Seongjae enter, she wiped her face quickly, trying to look strong, but failed.

Seongjae approached and stood by the bed. He didn't say anything.

He stared at her, but not with his usual look that judged her when she slept in an hour late, but with that intense focus he had when he was thinking deeply.

He lowered his gaze to her belly. It was still flat. There didn't seem to be anything there.

"They told you, didn't they?" _____ asked, her voice trembling.

Seongjae nodded slowly. "Pregnant."

_____ let out a choked sob.

"I'm sorry, Seongjae. I didn't know… I took pills for a headache yesterday and… I'm scared... We can't… you have the Union, and we're young and…"

Seongjae reached out his hand. _____ flinched, expecting a yell, an accusation, or for him to tell her to "deal with the problem herself."

But Seongjae's hand landed on her head. His long fingers tangled in her hair, stroking her scalp with a clumsy, unusual gentleness.

"Shut up," he said. It wasn't a harsh order. It was almost a plea. "Stop saying stupid things."

"Seongjae…"

"Is it mine?" he asked, though he knew the answer. He just needed to hear it.

_____ looked at him, offended despite the tears.

"What do you mean 'is it yours,' you piece of shit? Obviously it's yours, whose else would it be?"

Seongjae sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, invading her space, as he always did. His weight dipped the mattress.

"Then there's no problem."

"What?" _____ blinked, confused. "What do you mean no problem? It's a baby, Seongjae! A human! You hate people."

"I hate annoying people. I hate the weak." Seongjae slid his hand from her head to her cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "But if it's mine… then it'll be strong. He'll be a goddamn king, just like me."

_____ looked at him, looking for the joke, but Seongjae was serious. There was a glint of possessiveness in his eyes. She wasn't just "his girlfriend" anymore. Now she carried his blood inside her.

"Are we going to keep it?" she asked, fearfully.

Seongjae frowned, as if the question was stupid.

"What part of 'it's mine' didn't you understand? What's mine stays with me. And you…" His gaze softened, just a bit, enough for her to see the boy behind the monster many feared. "You are going to take care of yourself. No more junk food. No more staying up late. You're going to do what I say, and I say you're going to be healthy."

_____, overwhelmed by hormones and relief, threw herself forward and hugged him, burying her face in his orange jacket that smelled of tobacco and expensive cologne.

"I thought you would leave…" she cried.

Seongjae wrapped his arms around her, tightly, protecting her from the outside world. "I'm not going anywhere, idiot. Now shut up and rest. It stresses me out seeing you cry."

Geum Seongjae didn't turn into a saint overnight. He was still arrogant, foul-mouthed, and violent with anyone who looked at him wrong. But with _____… with _____, things changed.

One week after the hospital, _____ was on the sofa in Seongjae's apartment. He was on the balcony, with the glass door open.

He took a cigarette out of the pack. Placed it between his lips. Took out his lighter.

_____ watched him from the sofa.

"Smoke hurts the baby," she said quietly.

Seongjae froze. The lighter was inches from the cigarette. He looked at _____. He looked at her belly, still flat. He looked at the cigarette.

He clicked his tongue in frustration.

"Goddammit. Everything is a problem."

He put the lighter away. Took the cigarette out of his mouth and, with a sharp movement, crushed the entire pack in his fist, destroying the expensive cigarettes left inside.

He threw the ball of paper and tobacco into the trash with force.

"Happy?" he growled, entering the apartment and slamming the balcony door shut.

_____ smiled. "Very happy."

"Whatever. I brought grapes. Eat them. The nurse said fruit was good or some shit like that." He tossed a bag of washed grapes onto her lap and sat next to her, crossing his arms and watching TV with a frown, as if eating fruit were a personal but necessary insult.

As the months passed, _____’s belly started to show. And with it, Seongjae's paranoia grew exponentially.

Walking down the street with him became a VIP experience for _____. Seongjae walked a step ahead of her, clearing a path like an icebreaker.

If someone came along distracted looking at their phone and seemed like they were going to bump into her, Seongjae shoved them or growled at them.

"Eyes front, dipshit!" he yelled at a student who passed too close.

"Seongjae, he didn't touch me," sighed _____, used to it.

"He was going to. He invaded your space." Seongjae draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her toward him possessively. "I already told you no one is going to touch you."

But the real conflict wasn't on the street, it was on his phone.

The "Union."

Seongjae's phone rang constantly. Meetings. Settling scores. Territories to defend. At first, Seongjae went. He left _____ at home with a thousand warnings: "Don't open the door for anyone," "Eat," "If anything hurts, call me," and went to fulfill his "obligations."

But he came back with broken knuckles, smelling of blood. And every time _____ cleaned his wounds, he saw the worry in her eyes. He saw how she looked at her own belly with fear, wondering if her child's father would make it home alive that night.

One rainy afternoon, the phone rang. It was a direct call from the higher-ups. There was a turf war in Yeongdeungpo. They needed Seongjae to crack some skulls.

Seongjae looked at the phone vibrating on the table.

_____ was asleep on the sofa, her head on his lap. She was six months pregnant. Her hand rested protectively over her round belly. She looked peaceful, vulnerable.

Seongjae looked at his hand. There was a fresh cut on his index finger.

If he went today, he’d come back late. He’d come back dirty. He’d come back bringing violence into this apartment that, little by little, was becoming a home.

The phone stopped ringing. And started ringing again immediately.

Seongjae picked up the device.

He looked at it for a few seconds. He thought about the power. He thought about the money the Union gave him. He liked money. He liked power.

But then he felt a movement in the palm of his hand. The baby kicked. It was a strong, decided blow, right against Seongjae's hand through _____’s skin.

Seongjae jumped. His eyes widened in surprise. He moved his large hand over the bump.

Another kick.

"Little bastard… you're strong..." he murmured, and a crooked, proud smile appeared on his lips.

He looked at the phone vibrating for the third time.

"Union: Urgent meeting."

Seongjae swiped and rejected the call. Then, he turned off the phone and threw it to the other end of the sofa.

He settled in better, reclining so _____ would be more comfortable, and put his hand back on her belly, waiting for another kick.

"Not today," he whispered to the belly. "Today Dad stays here."

The turning point came in the eighth month.

Seongjae had been distancing himself. Missing meetings, ignoring orders. The Union didn't take disloyalty lightly.

One night, coming back from shopping—because now Seongjae did the grocery shopping so _____ wouldn't carry weight—he ran into three guys blocking the entrance to his building. They wore the uniforms of a school allied with the Union.

"Geum Seongjae," the leader said with a mocking smile. "Baekjin is asking about you. He says you've gone soft. That you're playing house."

Seongjae set the grocery bags on the ground carefully. Inside were milk, strawberries—the craving of the week—and diapers he had bought "just in case."

He straightened up. Cracked his neck. His gaze changed. He wasn't the tired guy buying milk anymore. He was the crazy guy everyone feared.

"Soft?" Seongjae asked, with a soft, terrifying voice. "Tell Baekjin I haven't gone soft. I just changed priorities."

"Traitors like you deserve a lesson. We're going up to see your little girlfriend, see if she…"

The guy didn't finish the sentence.

Seongjae moved so fast it was a blur. His fist impacted the guy's jaw with a sickening, crunchy sound. The guy hit the ground unconscious before touching the floor.

The other two stepped back, terrified.

Seongjae didn't stop. He grabbed the second one by the collar and slammed him against the brick wall.

"Listen closely, you pieces of shit," Seongjae snarled, his face inches from the terrified boy. His eyes shone with murderous fury. "You can say whatever you want about me. You can try to attack me. But if any of you, or anyone from the Union, dares to mention my woman or my son… if you dare to breathe near this building… I will gouge your eyes out and make you swallow them. Understood?"

"Y-yes… yes, understood…" the boy stammered.

"Get out. And take the trash on the ground with you."

Seongjae watched them run, dragging their unconscious companion.

He stood there for a moment, breathing hard. He looked at his knuckles. They were red, but not broken.

He picked up the grocery bags. Checked that the milk hadn't spilled and the strawberries weren't squashed.

He went up to the apartment.

_____ was waiting for him at the door. She had heard the noise. She was scared.

"Seongjae? What happened? I heard yelling."

Seongjae entered, locked the door, and engaged the deadbolt. He left the bags in the kitchen.

He walked over to her. _____ checked his hands instinctively, looking for blood. "They're red..." she said, worried.

"It's nothing. Just some annoying bugs." Seongjae took her hands and kissed them. It was such an intimate gesture, so far from his old personality, that _____ felt like crying.

"I'm scared, Seongjae. You know the Union won't let you go that easily."

"Let them try," he said arrogantly, but then sighed and hugged her, resting his chin on her head. "I don't care about them anymore, _____. I'm out. For real. I'm not fighting for stupid territories or Baekjin's money."

He pulled back a little and placed both hands on her enormous belly. The baby moved, responding to his touch as always.

"I have a new territory to defend," Seongjae said, looking at the belly and then into her eyes. "You two. That's all I need. It's a full-time job and it pays better."

_____ smiled through her tears and caressed his cheek.

"You look tired, idiot."

"Being a good guy is exhausting, you know?" he admitted, smiling crookedly, that malicious smile that had made her fall in love, but now softened by love. "But I think I'm good at it."

"You're amazing at it."

Seongjae leaned in and kissed _____, a slow, deep kiss, unhurried. Then he knelt in front of her, level with her belly.

He lifted her shirt a little and kissed the stretched skin.

"Hey, you," he spoke to the navel. "Come out soon. Dad's bored of waiting. I want to teach you how to fight… and to take orders from no one."

"Seongjae," _____ scolded him, laughing. "No fighting until he's ten years old."

"Fine, fine. I'll teach him to say 'piece of shit.' Better?"

"I guess so."

He was so sure you were at home, sleeping soundly.

He checked your house. Knocked on your window, sent you a good night text.

So why are you in the intensive care unit? Why are you lying next to sieun? In a hospital bed, no less?? Why do you have a mask on??

"she has a lot of internal bleeding near her lungs. Even when she wakes up, she'll stay in a coma-like state. We don't know for how long yet."

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊⋆˚꩜.ᐟ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊⋆˚꩜.ᐟ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩

It's been days since juntae got the call that night. Sieun has already woken up, but you were far worse than he was. While sieun had bruises around his face and arms, with a few cuts under his brow and cheek, you had gashes on your face and stomach and head. The doctors were forced to shave some of your hair inorder to treat it. You had dark purple bruises just above your eye, lips, and cheek. Baku didn't even want to see the rest of your body.

Baku sat next to your bed. His eyes roamed your face, searching for answers. The answers to questions he didn't know, yet. He couldn't even hold your hand; he felt like he didn't deserve it.

If only I stayed with her.

If only I didn't join the union.

If only if only if only if only if only

He stared at your hand, yellow and purple bruises trickle along your wrist. His eyes followed the trail of bruises and gashes up your arm, only stopping at the hem of your hospital gown. He slowly lifted the sleeve up, revealing more trails of gashes.

His finger traced the wounds, lightly, so not to hurt you even more. His finger stopped at the palm of your hand. Slowly, and gently, he took your hand in his.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊⋆˚꩜.ᐟ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊⋆˚꩜.ᐟ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩

It was currently 13:47. School was most likely out by now, and juntae and Gotak would come visit the hospital. Baku refused to leave you. Didn't even go home to clean; he was still wearing the same black jacket with the same baggy shirt.

Gotak decided to take matters in his own hands, stopped by Baku's house to get fresh clothes while Juntae ordered food for Baku.

Gotak took his friend's white long-sleeved shirt and a different pair of tracksuit pants. He looked around the room, searching for anything that might help Baku. Nothing. Nothing except a basketball, but it wasn't likely Baku wanted to play with It right now. Still, Go Hyuntak took It with him before meeting up with Juntae.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊⋆˚꩜.ᐟ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊⋆˚꩜.ᐟ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩

It was cold out and looked like it was about to rain. The clouds were grey and dark blue, completely covering the sky. It wasn't windy, though. Just a small breeze with the light smell of rain.

Juntae was waiting for Gotak outside a restaurant, while holding a takeaway bag with the brand name on it.

"I got Baku some Tteokbokkie, Pork Neck Stew, and some pastries." Juntae says as Gotak gets closer. He nods approvingly, and gestures to the hospital just a few streets down.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊⋆˚꩜.ᐟ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊⋆˚꩜.ᐟ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩

Sieun stands infront of your bed, analysing every injury that he could see. His eyes then trailed to his friend.

"It's not your fault." His usual blunt voice carries a somewhat soft tone.

Baku doesn't respond, he just stares at your face.

"The union had nothing to do with this, humin."

"It's not about what the union did." Baku says softly. "It's about how the union distracted me from her."

Sieun stays quiet this time. Despite the silence, he understands.

"Then don't let it happen again."

"I won't."

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊⋆˚꩜.ᐟ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊⋆˚꩜.ᐟ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩

I hope you like it!! I love Baku so much it's unbelievable. His character and personality and just everything about him makes me love him even more.

Your phone screen lit up for the umpteenth time that night, but it wasn't what you were hoping for. It was a notification from a food delivery app, not a message from Humin.

You sighed, tossing your phone onto the bed in frustration.

You’d been dating for almost a year. At first, everything was a mess, but it was fun. Baku was... Baku.

Sleepy, boisterous, a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he was always there. If you were cold, he gave you his jacket. If someone bothered you, that someone ended up with a punch to the face.

But ever since he joined the "Union," things had changed.

Na Baekjin wasn't a leader who gave much time off. And Baku, being the "King" of Eunjang and now a key piece in the organization, was always busy.

"I'm doing this so we can have some peace," he had told you the last time you saw him, four days ago. "If I control this, no one will mess with us."

The problem was that, in order to "protect us," he had disappeared.

There were no more tteokbokki dates. No more afternoons playing video games at his place. There were only short messages: "I'm busy," "I'm running late," "I can't make it, let's go out another day."

You felt like a ghost's girlfriend.

You looked at the clock. 11:30 PM.

Your stomach rumbled. You hadn't eaten dinner, waiting to see if he’d deign to show up, but it was clear today wasn't going to be the day either.

Frustration mixed with hunger and anger. "Screw it, Park Humin," you muttered, getting out of bed.

You put on an oversized gray hoodie—ironically, one he had left the last time he was at your place almost two weeks ago—and some comfy pants. You needed air. And you needed spicy instant ramen. Badly.

You left your apartment. The night air was cool, but not freezing. The streets in your neighborhood were relatively quiet, lit by the neon glow of promotional signs and yellowish streetlamps.

You walked toward the usual convenience store, the one three blocks away. While you walked, you checked your phone one more time.

"Going to the store, let me know if you get home." (Sent 11:35 PM)

No reply. Not even left on "read."

You shoved the phone into your hoodie pocket with rage. Was it so hard to send an emoji? An "ok"? A "be careful"?

You got to the store, bought two cups of spicy ramen, a banana milk, and some chocolates. You sat at one of the plastic tables outside to eat.

The ramen burned, but the spice helped clear your mind. You watched a few cars pass by and drunk people stumbling out of distant bars.

"Should I break up with him?" you asked your cup of noodles.

It was a question haunting your mind. You loved Humin. God, you loved him so much. But this distance... this feeling of being the last priority on his gangster to-do list was slowly killing you.

You finished eating and threw away the trash. You felt a bit better, less empty.

You started walking back home. It was already 12:15 AM. The streets were lonelier now.

That was when you felt that prickle on the back of your neck.

Someone was walking behind you.

At first, you thought it was paranoia, but when you sped up, the footsteps behind you sped up too.

Your heart leaped into your throat. You weren't in the main Union zone; you lived in the border territory, an area where guys from other schools who hated Baekjin and the Eunjang crew sometimes sneaked in.

You turned a corner, hoping to lose them.

Bad idea.

The street was cut off by construction work. It was a dead end right now.

You spun around quickly to go back, but three figures blocked the alley entrance.

"Well, well... look who we have here..." one of them said. He was wearing a southern technical school uniform, unbuttoned and dirty. They smelled like cheap cigarettes and alcohol.

"Isn't this the Eunjang King's girl?" asked the second one, a skinny guy with a rat face who looked at you in a way that made you feel instantly filthy.

Your blood ran cold.

That was the cruel irony of your situation.

Baku had distanced himself to "protect" you, so his problems wouldn't be yours. But by being his girlfriend, you had a target on your back that screamed, "Look at me, I'm the girlfriend of the asshole you hate." And now that he wasn't by your side, that target shone brighter than ever.

"I don't know what you're talking about..." you said, trying to keep your voice from trembling. You took a step back. "Let me pass."

"Pass?" The third one, the biggest, laughed and spat on the ground. "We've been wanting to send a message to the 'King of Eunjang' for weeks. But that bastard never shows up..."

He took a step toward you.

"But you... you appeared right in front of us..."

Panic exploded in your chest. You shoved your hand into your hoodie pocket, searching for your phone. Your fingers were shaking so hard you almost dropped it.

"If you come any closer, I'm calling the police!" you screamed.

"Call whoever you want, sweetheart." The skinny guy lunged at you and grabbed your wrist before you could unlock the screen.

"Let me go!"

You thrashed hard, kicking him in the leg. The guy groaned and let go for a second. You took the chance to run toward the only open gap, but the big guy grabbed you by your hood and yanked you back violently.

You fell onto the concrete floor, scraping your palms and calves. Your phone went flying and landed a couple of meters away, screen lit up.

"Damn bitch!" the skinny one growled, rubbing his leg. "Now you're really going to regret that."

You crawled backward until your back hit some sacks of cement from the construction site. You were cornered.

"We're going to take some pictures with you," the leader said, pulling out his own phone. "And we're going to send them to Baku. Let's see if he's still so arrogant when he sees his girlfriend crying."

"Get away!" you screamed, even though you knew they wouldn't listen. "Get away from me!"

The big guy crouched down and grabbed your face with a rough hand, squeezing your cheeks.

"Scream louder. No one is coming. Your boyfriend is too busy playing gangster. He left you all alone, didn't he?"

Tears started falling down your face. They were right. He had left you alone.

The skinny guy grabbed your arms to pin you down while the other one prepared to... whatever he had in mind.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the blow, waiting for the pain.

And then, it rang out.

It wasn't a police siren. It was a sound much more terrifying and, at the same time, the most beautiful sound in the world.

It was the sound of a bone breaking.

And then, an agonized scream.

You opened your eyes.

The guy who was holding the phone to take the picture was no longer standing. He was against the opposite wall as if he’d been hit by a truck. He smashed into the bricks and slumped down unconscious.

At the alley entrance, under the flickering light of the streetlamp, stood a silhouette.

He was wearing a white t-shirt, hands in his pockets, and his hair was a bit messy.

"Hey..." His voice was low, slurred, as if he had just woken up from a nap. But there was an edge to it that made the other two guys freeze. "You guys are being really loud."

It was Baku.

But it wasn't the Baku who smiled at you and stole kisses whenever you walked together. It was the Baku everyone feared.

The Monster of Eunjang.

"B-Baku!" the big guy stammered, letting go of your face as if it burned.

Park Humin walked toward them slowly. He didn't run. He didn't look worried. He looked... bored. And that made him a thousand times more terrifying.

He stopped two meters away from you all. His dark eyes scanned the scene. He saw your scraped knees. He saw your bleeding hands. He saw the tears on your face. And he saw the guy's hand still near your arm.

The indifference vanished.

His expression changed to one of pure, absolute, and terrifying fury.

"Get your dirty hands off my girlfriend," he whispered.

The skinny guy tried to pull out a knife.

"Don't come any closer! I'm going to—!"

He didn't finish the sentence. Baku moved with inhuman speed. Before you could blink, Baku's fist connected directly with the skinny guy's nose. The sound was wet and crunchy. The guy fell to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the cement.

The big one was left. The leader. He was shaking.

"Wait! We were just playing!" he yelled, backing away. "We didn't know that—!"

"Didn't know what?" Baku tilted his head. "Didn't know what? Didn't know that if you touch my girlfriend, you get a beating?"

Baku delivered a kick to his stomach that knocked all the air out of him. The guy doubled over. Then, Baku grabbed his head and slammed a knee into his face. The guy fell next to his friends.

Three against one. And it had lasted less than thirty seconds.

Silence returned to the alley, broken only by the groans of pain from the guys on the ground.

Baku stood there for a moment, breathing a bit heavily, his knuckles stained with blood that wasn't his. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back, and turned toward you.

You were still on the ground, trembling, in shock.

He ran to you and dropped to his knees, ignoring the dirt on the floor.

"..." His voice was no longer that of the monster everyone feared. It was your boyfriend's. Full of panic. ", look at me. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

He touched your face with shaking hands, checking you frantically.

"Humin..." you sobbed, throwing yourself into his arms.

He caught you, hugging you so tight he almost squeezed the air out of your lungs, but you needed to feel that to know you weren't dreaming and that he was really there.

You buried your face in his neck, smelling his cologne mixed with sweat.

"I'm sorry... shit, I'm so sorry..." he murmured against your hair, kissing your head over and over. "I was late. I'm an idiot."

You pulled back a little, still crying.

"You didn't answer!" you screamed at him, hitting his chest weakly. "I texted you all week! And you couldn't answer a single one, you idiot!"

Baku looked at you, and you saw something you'd never seen in him: guilt. A devastating guilt that made you feel guilty yourself for yelling at him like that.

"Baekjin ordered us to turn off our phones." He took your scraped hands and kissed them, not caring about the blood. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, I'm sorry I didn't answer the messages..."

He looked at the guys lying on the ground with renewed hatred.

"I'm going to kill them... I swear I'm going to wake these bastards up and kill them one by one for touching you."

He made a move to get up, but you grabbed his shirt.

"No!" you begged. "No, Humin. Let's go. Please. I just want to go home..."

Baku stopped. He looked into your eyes, saw the terror you still held. He nodded slowly, swallowing his rage for your sake.

"Okay. We're leaving."

He crouched down, picked up your phone from the ground—the screen was cracked—and put it in his pocket. Then, without a word, he slipped one arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you up bridal style.

"I can walk..." you murmured.

"And I can carry you..." His tone allowed for no argument. "You hurt your knees. You don't have to walk."

You leaned against his chest, listening to his heart beat wildly.

"Where are we going?"

"To my place. It's empty..." Baku started walking, leaving the alley and leaving them behind. "No one's going to bother us there."

The ride was silent. Baku didn't let go of you for a second. He hailed a taxi and kept you on his lap the whole way, his arm around you like a barrier, glaring at anyone who dared to look in your direction.

You arrived at the apartment he had managed to rent with his new "job." It was a simple place, a bit messy as always, but it smelled like him. And best of all, his drunk father wasn't there screaming and demanding attention.

He took you to the bathroom and sat you on the closed toilet lid.

"I'm going to get the first aid kit," he said, and ran out.

He returned in a minute with a box of supplies and a damp towel. He knelt in front of you, between your legs.

With a gentleness that contrasted with the violence he had just unleashed, he started cleaning your knees with the towel.

"It's gonna sting a little," he warned softly.

You hissed when the antiseptic touched the raw skin. Baku stopped immediately and blew softly on the wound.

"Sorry, sorry..."

You looked at him. His brow was furrowed, focused on healing you as if it were the most important mission of his life. He looked tired. He had dark circles under his eyes. Life in the Union was wearing him down.

"Humin..." you said softly.

He looked up. His eyes met yours and filled with tears. Park Humin, the guy who never cried, had glassy eyes.

"I'm so sorry..." he whispered, his voice cracking. "If I had arrived a minute late... if they had weapons..."

He rested his head in your lap, hugging your waist. You felt his shoulders shaking.

"It's my fault." His voice came out muffled by your hoodie. "All of this. I pushed you away so you’d be safe. I thought if they didn't see me with you, if I focused on the Union work, you'd be safe. But I'm stupid. I left you alone. I left you exposed."

You stroked his soft hair, feeling your heart break for him.

"I was so mad at you..." you admitted. "I thought you didn't care anymore. That the Union was more important."

Baku snapped his head up.

"What?" He looked at you in horror. "How can you think that? The Union is shit. It's dirty work. You are... you are the only good thing I have. You're the only reason I put up with Baekjin and his bullshit."

He rose a bit and cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

"Listen to me closely, ____. There is nothing, absolutely nothing in this world more important than you. I stayed away because I was afraid you'd get hurt because of me. But I see I was an idiot. By staying away, I only put you in more danger and made you feel bad..."

He rested his forehead against yours.

"I'm not doing that again. Screw the Union. If I have to take you with me everywhere, I will. If I have to put Go Tak on bodyguard duty when I can't be there, I will. But I'm never leaving you alone again."

"Promise..." you whispered.

"I swear on my life." Baku kissed you.

It was a salty kiss from the tears, but full of desperation and love that left you breathless. His lips were soft, insistent. He kissed you as if he wanted to erase the memory of those guys, as if he wanted to remind you who you belonged to and who belonged to you.

When you pulled apart, both of you were panting a little.

"Let me finish fixing you up..." he said, returning to his task with your knees and hands.

When he finished, he put some colorful band-aids on you, which he claimed he bought because they were on sale. But you knew he did it because they were Iron Man ones.

"Done." He looked at you. "Hungry?"

You laughed a little, a nervous but relieved laugh.

"I already ate... I just want to sleep. A lot."

"Let's sleep then."

Baku took you to his bed. He lent you a clean t-shirt because your hoodie was dirty. He took off his sweaty shirt and stayed in sweatpants.

You lay down. Baku's bed was always full of pillows, which you always criticized because you didn't know how he could sleep like that, but it was always the most comfortable place in the world.

He pulled you into his chest, wrapping you in his strong, heavy arms. He threw a leg over yours, pinning you in a protective bear hug.

"Comfortable?" he asked against your ear.

"Yes."

"Does anything hurt?"

"No. I'm okay."

There was a moment of silence. You could feel his breathing slowing down, exhaustion overtaking him now that the adrenaline was fading.

"Humin..." you murmured.

"Mmm?"

"Those guys... They said they wanted to send you a message."

You felt him tense up for a second, but then he stroked your back to calm you.

"Don't worry about them anymore." His voice turned dark and serious for a moment. "Tomorrow I'll make sure everyone knows that if anyone looks at you wrong, all of Eunjang is going to come down on them. No one is ever going to touch you again, my love... Not while I'm with you."

He kissed the back of your neck.

"Now sleep... I'm sleepy too..."

You relaxed, closing your eyes. The fear was gone. You knew he would keep his word to take care of you. You knew that tomorrow, when you woke up, you’d have to talk more about how to manage his schedule, but for now, that didn't matter.

Park Humin was back. And this time, he wasn't planning to let go.

"I love you..." you whispered, half-asleep.

He let out a soft chuckle, that laugh that made you fall in love with him over and over again.

Lying on Baku’s couch, you tossed a green stress ball into the air and caught it as boredom took over you. Sieun, Baku, Gotak and Juntae have been formulating a plan for fight this Friday for the past three hours.

You would think they were planning a money heist for how detailed they were being - ‘they’ being Sieun.

Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing because he catches what Gotak and Baku would normally miss. But this? Three hours? Was overkill.

“We need a back up plan in case Seong je doesn’t play nice,” Sieun suggests.

You continued to toss the ball up into the air until you noticed an extended pause. Catching the ball, you looked over to find the group staring at you.

“Absolutely not,” you tell them.

“How come?”

“Because he’s not going to fall for it. He knows I despise him. He’ll sniff this out in a heartbeat if I go over there.”

“Don’t you think you’re giving him too much credit?” Gotak questions.

“He doesn’t care enough about school to attend. But he’s really smart. Like 120 IQ smart.” You explained.

“You couldn’t have despised him too much if you dated most of high school.” Gotak retorts, ducking when you tossed the stress ball at him.

“And just because you despise him that doesn’t mean he despises you,” Juntae states.

“What do you mean by that?” You asked after a long pause.

“When he helped me that day, he asked about you. He asked if you were staying out of trouble.” Juntae explains.

“Why would he..” you trailed off.

“Just give it a try, yeah?” Baku suggests and you nod hesitantly.

The group goes back to talking amongst themselves. You sat up, bringing your knees up to your chest as you unlocked your phone.

You scrolled through your contacts until you reached Seong je’s name. Hovering over the gray unblock button for a moment before locking your phone again. You closed your eyes as you let out a tired sigh.

What is he playing at?

**

Friday afternoon rolls around and you find yourself walking the familiar path up to Seong je’s apartment.

Walking up the stairs, you shook the nerves off your body - letting out a shaky breath before lifting the rock and unlocking the door.

Seong je didn’t have to look up to know it was you. A playful smirk tugs on his lips, his eyes remained focus on his video game.

“I wondered when they would pull that card,” Seong je says out loud, his deep voice reverberating in his studio apartment.

“Guess they thought I could woo you with my charms,” you said sarcastically.

“Is that right?” He paused his game, spinning around in his chair until he faces you.

“I’m not going to bother fabricating a lie. You know why I’m here.”

He doesn’t say anything at first; his eyes slowly trail up your frame, first your thighs then your waist. His gaze lingered on your sternum tattoo that peeks out from under your black crop top.

His stare wasn’t something out of the ordinary. When you were together, it usually meant one of two things. That you needed to change because your outfit was too revealing. Or that you weren’t leaving anytime soon.

He finally meets your gaze and you crossed your arms.

“I’m assuming they thought that I wouldn’t hurt you because of our history,”

“Nope, I’m one of the few that can actually hold you off.” You quirked.

“You seem to have a lot of faith in what Baku taught you,”

“Not Baku,”

His face drops at your words.

“You did not let buster teach you how to fight,”

“It wasn’t Gotak either. I joined a new dojang.” You explained.

“In what?”

“Judo,” you said after a long pause, blinking at him.

“And you think that’ll work on me?”

“Wanna find out?” You instigated.

“Is that your way of saying you want to toss me around?” He plays along. He stands up his chair, peeling off his windbreaker with an amused smirk tugging on his lips.

**

Seong je’s hair sticks to his forehead as he lays on the floor, his chest heaving with each deep breath.

He chuckles to himself rolling his head to look at you in a similar state that he was. Although your face was flushed, you weren’t as winded as he was.

He supposed that was a testament to how conditioned your body was. It took you less than five minutes to take him down and pin one of his arms so he couldn’t escape.

He eventually took over you by standing up with your legs still wrapped around him. But it took him close to fifteen minutes to get to that point.

“You’re good. And I don’t say that to just anyone,”

“You weren’t expecting me to give you a run for your money, huh?” You joked. You haven’t joked around with someone in a long time.

“To be fair, you always gave me a run for my money. There was never a dull moment with you.” He said with a chuckle, making you look over at him for a moment.

Returning your gaze to the ceiling you let out a long breath. Seong je finds himself doing the same thing, still smiling. He missed your company; but he knew he didn’t need to say it. You could feel it.

“They’re going to kill him, Seong je.” You said, breaking the silence.

“Baku’s not going to kill Baekjin.” He diffused.

“I’m not talking about Baku,”

Seong je looks at you as he waits for you to elaborate.

“They’re fighting over whether the Union stays together or not. You and I both know that Baekjin can’t kill Baku. He cares about him too much. Baku will win that fight. And when he does, they’re going to find Baekjin. Is that what you want to happen? So you can take his spot?”

“That’s what he signed up for when he joined the Union. He knew the risks.” he deflects.

“What are you talking about?“

“You get mixed up in the wrong crowd and bad things happen. I accepted that the second I joined.”

“His father forced him into all this because he was tired of all the fights that landed him in the police station. He didn’t have a choice so he made the most of it by climbing the ranks.” You elaborated, leaning against the closest wall.

“How exactly do you know that?” Seong je asks.

“He told me one day before things got bad,” you paused before adding, “And I heard some things I shouldn’t have.”

“Y/N.” he starts, sitting up from the floor.

“I know, Seong je.”

A silence fell between you and you brought your knees to your chest.

“You know, you didn’t answer my question. Do you want to take Na Baekjin’s spot?”

“I mean, I’ve thought about it.”

“Of course you did. I don’t think you’re actually capable of having friends, Seong je.”

“And what exactly has friendship gotten me?”

“Friendship isn’t about what you can do for each other. It’s about what companionship. If one of my friends was in danger and needed help, I would do everything I could to help them.”

“If that’s the standard of what friendship should be like. Then technically, you’re my friend.”

“How am I.. you know what? Enlighten me.”

“All the times you walked home late at night.”He continued, looking at you when he added, “That creep on the bus.”

Your lips part at his words. You remember that day vividly. It was raining that night so you decided to take the bus home from the gym instead of walking like you usually do.

You had your earbuds in as you looked out the window. There was only a handful of people on the bus with you. A man had stepped onto the bus and decided to sit behind you.

For the remaining ten minutes you were on the bus, he managed to slip a tracker pod in your bag. He got off the bus at the stop after yours so you wouldn’t suspect anything.

Little did the man know, that Seong je noticed him watching you from afar. He watched as he waited outside for an hour until you left the gym.

You hadn’t noticed a thing but Seong je saw everything. You finally noticed when you heard the fight between Seong je and the man when was about to grab you. But Seong je wore a black hoodie so you couldn’t recognize him.

Seong je watched the gears turned behind your eyes, slowly realizing that it was him that saved you from being kidnapped.

“But the guy had a knife..” you trailed off when Seong je lifted his shirt to show an impressive scar stretching from the top of his hip to just under his belly button.

Your face felt hot again when everything clicked into place. He never let you go.

“Why? You didn’t have any loyalty to me anymore. We weren’t together.” You explained softly.

“Yeah, well. I didn’t see it that way.” He says nonchalantly, dropping his shirt to cover his abdomen.

You stood from the floor, dusting off your hands as you made your way over to the kitchen. He stood up after you.

You came back with a bottle of soju and two shot glasses, brushing past him to sit on the couch.

Pouring the soju with two hands, you handed him a glass when he sits down next to you. He lets you drink yours first before turning his head to drink his.

You set the shot glass down, coughing at the burning sensation the soju left in your chest. You leaned back into the couch with a sigh.

“How long have you been looking out for me?” You question, breaking the silence.

“I never stopped,” he admits.

You looked at him, resting your elbow on the back of the couch. Neither of you said anything at first; he shifts in the couch to get comfortable.

“What if I chose to move on with someone else?” You questioned.

“You didn’t,” he says with proud smirk on his lips.

“I could have,”

“He wouldn’t have lasted long,”

You scoffed at his boldness, “After everything you’ve told me, I’m surprised you haven’t tried to kiss me yet.”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since you walked through the door. But I know you probably had a knife on you and you would have threatened me.”

You couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto your face when you pulled your knife from one of your side pockets. Setting the knife down on the table, you settled back down in the couch with a sigh.

“I know you. Always remember that.”

“Well, now the offer is on the table.”

“The offer to kiss you or the offer to threaten me?”

“Both,”

His gaze drifted to your lips, leaning in kiss you. A little surprised you weren’t putting up much of a fight. He spoke too soon; because just as your lips were about to meet, you reached over and clicked the knife open. You gently pressed the blade against his throat before he had a chance to react.

“Fucking knew it.” He chuckles, his Adam’s apple graze the thin blade.

He lingers for a few seconds, waiting for you to object. When you don’t, he presses a slow kiss on your lips. You closed the knife with one hand set it back on the table.

He closes the gap between you, grabbing the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. His lips over power yours, his hands sliding under one of your thighs to pull you into his lap.

Taking off his glasses, you clicked them closed and set them on the arm rest. Your hands found the back of the couch, tightening when he moves your hips against him.

You pulled away from his lips, gasping for air and resting your forehead against his. You grinded harder against him, moaning until he stills your hips.

Standing up, he wraps your legs around his waist and you held the back of his head, pressing open mouth kisses on his neck.

He mindlessly walks you into the bedroom; he didn’t need to look from the countless times he’s walked around with you in his arms.

You jumped down from his arms and quickly makes work of unzipping your pants, his lips finding yours. You kicked your pants off your legs, pushing him on the bed.

Slowly straddling his waist, his hands find your waist as you pulled your shirt up over your head and tossed it somewhere behind you.

“God, I would think about this over and over again,” he says between kisses along your collarbone and chest.

His lips found yours again, your hands mindlessly reaching for his sweatpants to pull them down his legs.

Sitting up with you in his arms, he laid you on your back as he pulled off his boxers. “Seong je,” you gasped when he tore your panties down the middle.

He lined himself up with your entrance, groaning when your walls expanded around him, sucking him in.

“It’s like I never left,” he says against your neck. “Shut up,” you moaned out, your hands slip under his shirt to scratch down his back.

He sends a few shallow thrusts, watching when your lips part in bliss.

He slows his thrusts to a stop, propping one leg over his shoulder. You whined, shifting your hips up but he pushes them back down.

He sends hard, quick thrusts that made your toes curl. He persists at the same pace, lowering his weight on so you couldn’t turn away.

“Fuckkkk,” you whimpered.

“Take it,” he says against your lips before kissing you.

He pulled away to lick his fingers and rub quick circles on your clit. Your eyes started to roll back at the added stimulation, your legs shaking vigorously.

“I’m close,” you moaned when he ducks his head into your neck.

He leans over to kiss the top of your right knee, angling you so you were almost bouncing in his lap.

With a few more strokes, the tension broke in your stomach. Seong je rides out your orgasm making your entire body tremble.

You cried out when he pressed a hand on your lower belly, amplifying the feeling of bliss.

Seong je’s hips stuttered as he chased his own high, your walls spasmed around his dick until your orgasm subsided.

He slowly pulled out of you, tapping himself on your over sensitive clit causing your body to jolt.

You remained in your spot and he slides off the bed to grab a towel for you. He comes back to wipe away the cum threatening to escape you.

He pulls back to covers and motioned for you to get in first. Seong je laid on his back with satisfied grin as you curled your body against his.

Both of your heavy breaths normalize, his hand resting on the globe of your ass. Your eyes fluttered closed as you heard his calm heart beating into his chest, your arms frapped across his chest.

You laid on your stomach, wearing one of Seong je’s shirts scrolling on your phone aimlessly while Seong je sits at the edge of his bed playing a game on his Xbox.

The more you saw each other, the more domestic it all felt. The first few times you hooked up with Seong je, it was cut and dry. You came over, you had sex, you got dressed and you left.

But one night, Seong je fell asleep on top of you. He nestled his face into your neck and wrapped his arms around either side of you, essentially trapping you there.

You could have pushed at him to get off of you. But instead, you laid there, bringing your hand up to run your fingers through his hair. His loud snores caught you off guard, causing you to stop for a brief moment.

A few hours later, you woke up to him stirring above you. He asked you if you could play with his hair again. You said sure and now here you were a week later, laying in bed with Seong je while he played his game.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asks, his eyes still glued to the screen.

“Sure,”

“Affection,”

“That’s.. not a question, Seong je.”

“Is what you do to my hair called affection?” He rephrases.

“Yeah, it is.” You looked at him, attempting to follow the conversation with no luck.

“Seong je,”

He pauses his game and turned to you.

“I want to learn about affection. I want more of it.” You cocked your head at his words.

“You don’t know what affection is?”

“No. All I know is that you do it and I like it.”

“Okay, well. What do you want to know?”

“Everything,”

“Alright. I guess I’ll just start randomly. Um.. affection is used to build trust between two people. There’s platonic affection, like what you get from your parents. And then there’s romantic affection, which is more sensual between lovers.”

He smiles at the word lovers and you cleared your throat at the gesture.

Lovers, I like that. Seong je thinks to himself.

“So we’re lovers huh?” He leans back on his hands as he smiles at you.

“I’m not going to do this if you’re going to tease me.”

You get up to leave when he calls after you.

“Wait, please. I’m not teasing you, okay? I swear I’m not being an asshole. I’m new to all this, and you’re just.. you’re hot. That’s why I’m smiling.”

He gets up to shut off his game entirely and sat down at the edge of the bed.

“You have my full attention,” he reassures, motion you to sit next to him.

You squint at him skeptically before returning back to the bed, sitting with your legs folded under you.

“As I was saying. Affection is a way to build trust between two people. When I run my fingers through your hair, how does it feel?”

He ponders for a moment before saying, “Warm. You feel warm.”

You blinked at first, unsure of what to say.

“I feel warm?”

He hums in response and you shuffled your legs a little as you cleared your throat.

“Well that’s what you want. You want the person to feel warm when you give them affection,”

“So what does it look like?”

“It could look like several things.”

“Show me,”

**

Seong je coined the term “Y/N’s School of Affection”. He so intrigued by what you had to say. It made you a little sad that he hasn’t known what affection was after all this time. It explains why he seems distant at times.

That’s why you were shocked when you learned that he liked head and back scratches. You’re not sure if he knows that affection is typically something couples do. But you didn’t want to make things awkward so you kept it to yourself.

Seong je has been awake for an hour as you softly snored on his chest, both of you were bare under his sheets. There was something relaxing about the feeling of you sleeping on him. It felt.. domestic.

His eyes were slowly closing at the silence of the room until he felt you stir on his chest. Your eyes fluttered open when you felt the calm heartbeat thrumming into your ear.

He drags his hand up and down your back lazily, smiling when you curled your body closer to him.

Letting out a satisfied sigh, your eyes slowly opened to find Seong je looking up at the ceiling, blinking occasionally.

“How long were you awake?”

“An hour or so,”

“Oh, you didn’t have to wait until I got up.”

“I wanted to,” He says with a shrug, his hand continuing to caress up and down your spine. He slides his hand up to scratch and your hair line, causing you to melt in his arms.

“You’re getting pretty good at this, you know?” You said lazily.

“I had a good teacher,” he retorts.

You lifted your hand to trace the scars littering his abdomen, your eyes slowly closing from the comfortable silence.

The first night, you spent at him house, he expected you to ask him what happened to get those scars. But instead, you yawned and rolled over to rest your eyes.

He knew from that moment that you were different.

“Thank you,”

Your eyes blink open to find him looking down.

“For what?”

“For not asking about the scars,”

“Because it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you reasoned. Holding his gaze, you pressed soft kisses to each one of his scars.

His heart skipped a beat at the gesture and he started to feel his cheeks warming up. You moved to the larger scar on his stomach when you hear him say, “Come here.”

You traveled back up his chest and he cups your cheeks to pull you in for a warm kiss. He sits up, rolling you on your back and settling between your legs.

His lips moves slowly against yours, like he wanted to savor your taste with each kiss. He brushes your hair away from your face as he continued to kiss you passionately.

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest and you tried to pull away, you needed to. But he didn’t allow your thoughts to get the best of you.

Lifting a leg over your shoulder, he pulled away to kiss down your inner thigh to your lower calf.

“Seong je, I..”

He shushes you, pressing another kiss on your lips. Tugging the sheet from your body, his hands smooth of the curves of your waist down to your thighs.

He pulls away to look into your eyes, his chocolate orbs dilating at the prolonged eye contact.

You were in trouble.

**

Each time you hang out, you cross a new line and you fall deeper into the domestic couple. More specifically, the sunshine/grump trope and it was starting to affect you.

You were.. calmer and more carefree. A lot like how Seong je is. He brought you peace you didn’t know you needed.

But you couldn’t get caught up in this whirlwind anymore.

“Seong je,” you start as you sat in his lap, his arms circle your waist with his console remote resting in your lap.

“Yeah, baby?”

Your cheeks felt hot at the pet name.

“I think I’ve taught you all I know. You’re ready to get back in the dating scene.” You announce, sliding out of his lap and off the bed.

He looks at you puzzled and you gave him a swift nod. You were about to turn and leave when you heard him say, “I’m already dating,”

You pressed your lips together to hold back your shaky sigh.

This whole thing was a mistake. You set yourself up again, Y/N. You thought to yourself.

“Congratulations,” you took a step toward the door.

“You,” he adds, standing from the bed.

“What?” You asked as you turned around.

“I said I’m already dating you.”

“But you didn’t even get a chance to explore your.. options.” you trailed off when he shakes his head at you.

“I don’t need to. The only person I want to touch is you. And the only person I want touching me is you.”

“Seong je,” you argue but he hold his index finger up to stop you.

He walks over to his game chair, pulling out a medium sized box from the drawer. He hands you the box and sat back down, watching your expression.

You smoothed your thumbs over the velvety box before looking back up at him. He motions for you to open it and you did.

You inhaled sharply when you saw a tennis bracelet littered with diamonds and a gold S wedged between the two larger stones.

“I..” you trailed off once again.

“Need help putting it on?”

“Seong je, this must of cost a fortune.”

“That’s not something for you to worry about,” he motions for you to come closer and you closed the gap between you.

He takes the bracelet from the box and you offered your left wrist to him. He clasped the bracelet around your wrist and you turned over to look at diamonds sparkling under the light.

“I think you’re the only person who’s ever actually seen me.” He says breaking the silence, his words washing over you like a wave.

You stare at each other for a brief moment. You noticed something in his eyes that made your heart race.

“I didn’t teach you that,”

“Teach me what?”

“That look in your eyes. I didn’t teach you that.”

“Yeah, well, I have my own tricks.” He says, pulling you flushed against his check.

You leaned up on your tippy toes to kiss him. He deepens the kiss, lifting you off the ground.

**

One Year Later

Seong je wakes up from his nap to find you sliding on a skirt and buttoning up your blouse. You must have taken a shower while he was asleep.

“Where you going, baby?” He asks, still laying his head down ok the pillow.

“I’m headed to the mall. You stay here and rest. I’ll be back soon.” You strolled over to give him a quick kiss. He catches your hand and piles you into his lap when you tried to pull away.

“Seong je,” you said, chuckling when he buries his face into your neck.

“I’ll come with you,” he says when he pulls away just enough to look at you.

“No, Seong je. Today is your only day off. You don’t have to spend it walking around some mall.”

“Any day off that I spend with you is a great day off.” You looked away at his words, your cheeks burning the longer he stared at you.

“You enjoy making me blush, don’t you?”

“I enjoy doing lots of things to you,” he retorts, leaning in to kiss you but you escaped your grip before he had a chance to start anything. He whines when you rush out of the bedroom to put on your shoes.

“Come back,” he pleads.

“No, I need to get my heels, Seong je.” You tied your sneakers around your feet when you heard him get up from the bed.

“Did you just say heels?” He questions.

The next thing you knew, you were in the fashion district trying on several different heels. You settled on some light blue kitten heels with gold sparkles accentuating the heel.

“Excuse me, miss? Can you bring out some ten inch heels please? Size seven.” Seong je asks the lady.

“Sure, what color?” “Red please,” the lady nods before heading to the back.

“Ten inch heels? I can’t walk in those. I would break my ankles.” You tell him in a hushed tone. He waits until the woman was far enough to lean in and say, “Who said you’ll be walking?”

The image of lying on your back with your heels dangling as your legs were propped on his shoulder sent a shiver down your spine.

“Oh,” you squeaked out and he pecks your lips before advancing towards the cash register. It took you all of ten minutes to get wrapped up in the store before heading back to Seong je’s car. He strolls next to you with his hands linked with yours and the paper bag draped in his free hand.