shhh...

Ooh, fall and free, fall and free Fall and free, fall and free Fall and free

Your accident made news all over the city, the scandal of a promising club singer robbed of her memories overshadowing the ongoing murders haunting the darkest corners. As far as you know, you slipped and fell during a robbery gone wrong, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You woke up at Neo City Memorial Hospital with your head wrapped in bandages and swollen, black eyes. Your mother prayed in front of a holographic Bible, clutching her Rosary tightly, while your father stared blankly out the window, lost in thought. It was the worst day of your life that you can remember, and it lingers in your mind.

So it’s no surprise that people from all over would come to see this mysterious person with a great voice and missing patches of her life put on a performance, because that’s what this city lives and breathes on. Scandals, violence, and sex mixed in between. You’ve figured out your role, and you play it well—it’s the only way you can survive.

I feel love I feel love I feel love

The beat fades out as you’re back on stage, the purple lights shifting slightly and shining on you, the enigma. Claps and cheers erupt in the club, and you let yourself bask in it all as the velvet curtains close. Buzzing from the energy of the crowd, you stand there rooted in place, your eyes closed as you hear them chant ENCORE! ENCORE! ENCORE! The buzz you get from this can never be replicated, no matter how much kosmi dust you snort. 

“Well done, gorgeous.”

Turning around, you face your boss, Cado, who walks towards you, clapping his hands. Your buzz drops like a free fall.

“Just doing my job, boss,” you sarcastically salute, the energy in the room shifting to something colder. It’s no surprise your boss is attracted to you, and you don’t miss the way he gazes over your body as something to possess rather than something to behold. He’s offered many times to get you to do “work” on the side for him, but you never budged. Maybe it’s worked on others, but not you. You don’t shit where you eat.

He’s unfortunately a conventionally attractive man, with a jawline sculpted by a god and dark, seductive brown eyes you can get trapped in. Cado takes good care of his body, bragging about how much he works out and sometimes flexing his arms or flashing his abs. All he talks about is himself and his money; it doesn’t impress you.

“You know my offer still stands, if you are looking for extra work,” Cado offers, a glint of mischievousness in his eyes.

Giving him a slow once-over, you snort. “I don’t need the extra money. You know that,” you scoff. “I’m sure one of the waitresses might.”

You walk away before he can say another word, exiting the side stage and heading to the bar. The need for a stiff drink is strong as ever, craving a shot of Sunshine Mist that’ll burn your throat and numb you in the best way. You only put up with Cado’s advances because this club feels familiar to you, even though you don't remember working here before. The nice guy facade he tried to put on at first, you saw through that early on. You see him for who he is, and you’ve made it clear every chance you get.

Holding your fingers up towards the bartender, Chan, you take a seat on the stool as the lively chatter and studio music fade into the background. Your head bobs lightly, your fingers drumming on the counter as you wait for your drink.

“Rough night?” Chan asks, twirling the cocktail shaker.

“Eh, just Cado being Cado,” you quip.

“My condolences,” he chuckles, sliding the shot towards you.

You snort, grabbing the glass and throwing it back. It gives you an almost therapeutic burn, instantly putting you at ease. Sunshine Mist is one of the strongest drinks concocted, and while not everyone can stand its aftereffects, it’s your preferred drink here, especially when dealing with the likes of Cado. For a moment, everything softens, and your buzz has returned, leaving your skin tingling all over.

“Mind if I join you?”

You turn towards an unfairly attractive stranger standing beside you, staring at him blankly before realizing you were. His dark hair falls across his forehead, his smile bright enough to rival the neon lights flooding the club. He definitely doesn’t fit this crowd, and you don’t recall ever seeing him, but you are not a stranger to unusual occurrences.

You gesture towards the stool next to you, and he follows your lead, scooting his seat closer to you.

Chan gives him a measured look. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have the same thing she’s having,” the stranger responds, tapping his watch and revealing a digicard. “And put hers on my tab.”

“Thank you,” you say, the curves of your mouth twitching.

“You’re welcome, gorgeous.”

Your eyebrows lift, followed by a silvery laugh. Studying him more carefully, you can’t help but notice the shape of his eyes, the curve of his smile, the timbre of his voice. A flutter of butterflies invades your stomach; you shake your head as the heat creeps up your neck.

“So, what’s the catch?”

It’s his turn to lift his brow. “Catch?”

Sitting up straighter, you throw him a look. “You bought me a drink, which is greatly appreciated, but I have the feeling that you didn’t come over here to take a shot with me.”

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes twinkle when he laughs. “Okay, you caught me,” he says, raising his hands. “I just wanted to tell you I liked your performance.”

You stare at him blankly, and then you laugh. “That’s it?” You flash him a smile. “I’m almost disappointed.”

“Give me time.”

Chan slides the drink over to the stranger, who catches the rim with the tips of his fingers. The veins on his hands pop suddenly, and you shake away the thoughts that are creeping into your head. He thanks Chan as he takes his shot, shooting it back in the same manner you did. The burning liquor doesn't faze him at all, and you sit there impressed.

“Seokmin.”

Your brows knit together. “Excuse me?”

He pulls out his hand to shake. “My name is Seokmin.”

You giggle, realizing he was introducing himself. “Nice to meet you,” you say, shaking his hand in return. “My name is—”

“I know who you are,” he says smoothly. His hand is warm and soft, and you can’t shake this sensation in your chest. You gaze at each other, your body feeling drawn to him, as if magnetism is pushing you together. Your hand is still in his, and you are in no hurry to let it go.

“I’m sorry, I have to ask,” you say suddenly. “But have we met before?”

Seokmin falters slightly before regaining his composure, slowly taking his hand from yours. “I—”

“Hey, boss wants us to go over the set list for tomorrow night.”

Your manager, nicknamed Snake-Eyes, appears from behind, holding a holographic tablet with a floating stylus. Looking past your manager, you eye Cado towards the back, watching you intently with a cigarette in his mouth. Of course, he wants to talk about it now, of all the times.

Glancing back at Seokmin, you let out a small sigh, your mood soured once again thanks to your boss. “I’m sorry we have to cut this short,” you say. “Maybe I’ll see you again?”

“Maybe,” Seokmin smiles softly, sending more butterflies to your stomach.

He gives you a hand to slide off the stool, his cologne appealing to your nose. It smells familiar, and you can’t pinpoint where it’s from. Maybe it’s something you came across in the years you can’t remember. Lucky you.

You start to walk away, but something tells you to turn around, and you find him still standing in place, watching you walk away. “Don’t be a stranger?”

He smiles. “Don’t worry, love. You’ll be seeing more of me.”

For some reason, those words resonate with you for the rest of the night.

Seokmin steps out into the wet night, lighting a cigarette from the corner of his mouth. The petrichor is fresh and calming as he deeply inhales, letting the enhanced tobacco burn his throat. It’s past two a.m., and the city is still alive, with no sign of slowing down. Neon lights and advertisements are shoved in his face at every corner, drug paraphernalia in the streets, and people coming from all directions looking for adventure. He remembers when he was that carefree and full of life, looking forward to the next day and many after. But so much has changed, and it feels like a distant memory, a whole lifetime ago.

Seokmin takes another puff as he watches on, lost in the thoughts that have been tormenting him for the past two years. He came to the club to find peace, to get answers to the darkness in his soul and the mystery that refuses to rest in his mind. Seokmin sought a reprieve that can only be cured by one, and when he watched you perform for the crowd, with the light shining on you like the star you are, it made him sadder. You don’t remember him, or your past life together, and every day it gets harder to bear. You are the light of his life, the one thing that has kept him alive, and he is determined to help you remember him, or at least, know the truth.

The authorities say it was an accident. Sure, like he will believe a fall like that will leave you on the brink of death with black eyes, broken ribs, and needing surgery. Seokmin has been a private investigator for many years and has seen a lot of shit, and the insult to his intelligence is laughable. He’s mentioned it to your parents, but they practically threatened to call the police if he came on their property again. The reaction didn’t surprise him much—your parents never thought he was good enough for you anyway.

They never told you about Seokmin and your life together. Your father is a very powerful man, and he had every trace of you and him wiped out of digital existence. It’s almost amusing the lengths he went through to erase Seokmin from your life. But what’s cruelly ironic is that he cannot take Seokmin’s memories away from him. It’s what helps Seokmin sleep at night.

There were many times he sat in the dark, in the apartment that you shared, and thought about barging into the hospital room or the club and telling you the full truth, hoping it would trigger something. But he can’t tell you anything he doesn’t know himself. How were you hurt? Who would do this to you? Why were you targeted? These are questions that have been wrestling in his mind with little to no answers, and forcing the truth on you wouldn’t serve you any better.

But being in your orbit again, hearing your voice and seeing the warmth in your eyes, renewed something in Seokmin’s spirit. He’s more determined than ever to uncover the truth and secure the justice you deserve. To bring you home.

God help anyone who tries to get in Seokmin’s way.

“Hi, baby.”

The voice is a low, honeyed murmur that makes you smile. A kiss is planted on your shoulder in a haze, and your body automatically eases. You reach back, blindly massaging the head of the hidden person as you watch the sun rise in an apartment. He feels familiar, as if you’ve known him for some time, even though you can't see his face.

“Have you been to sleep yet?”

You shake your head, a peaceful smile on your lips as sunlight rises over the horizon. It’s the first time you have seen the sun in days because of the rain, and you're too wired to sleep, thanks to the cup of coffee you had when you came home. “I just wanted to see this—the sun rise,” you explain. “There aren’t enough artificial sun rooms that can compare to the real thing.”

“Mmm,” he hums in agreement. “You are right about that, baby.”

He shifts, placing a lingering kiss beneath your earlobe. A moan escapes your lips as tingles spread throughout your body. His hands are warm, comforting as they grab your waist, pulling you closer to him. His cologne is pleasing, its scent unlike any of the synthetic materials made in factories throughout the city. It’s fresh and comforting, like vanilla, with a hint of aromatic spice. More kisses trail down your neck, his soft lips each imprinting electric and hard to ignore. Your nipples harden at his sensuality, your skin suddenly feeling hot and in need of more touch.

“I’m supposed to be watching the sunrise.” Your protest is weak with little effort. The hidden figure smirks against your skin, a low chuckle booming through his throat. “Not funny,” you sigh.

You turn to face him, kissing him with your eyes closed, allowing your body and mind to give yourself to him completely. His hands roam your body as if they know you, and your spirit isn’t disturbed—instead, your intuition tells you it’s okay, and he’s yours. Your shirt rises over your head, and you lean back into your pillows. Your blanket is caught in between your fingers, a tug of something metal caught in its snag. Raising your hand in the light reveals a ruby ring on a silver band, sitting perfectly on your ring finger.

“I fall in love with this ring every time I see it,” you sigh, the words flowing from your heart. “Good job, lover.”

You look up at him properly, trying to catch the shape of your stranger’s face. But it keeps slipping at the edges, the rays of light refusing to let you focus too hard. His presence, however, feels steady, familiar in a way your thoughts don’t know how to argue with.

“I missed you, you know,” he says, his hands cupping your face. He kisses you deeply, and you lose all feeling in your legs. “I could do this all day.”

You raise a brow, a smirk on your lips. “Technically, you can.”

“I could.” He lets out a silvery laugh. “But Seungcheol wouldn’t like that.”

You don’t know who he is, but somehow the name doesn’t seem foreign to you. Sitting up slightly, you cock your head to the side. “Well, tell Seungcheol you have plans and will be busy all day.”

“And what are those plans?” He asks, trailing his fingers along your shorts.

Despite his face being covered in a shroud of light, you know he’s staring at your body, ogling your breasts that were made just for him. Lifting slightly, you help yourself out of your shorts, revealing your bare center, and part your legs slightly, just for his view.

“Tell him you will be busy eating out your fiancé,” you half-joke, placing your foot on his shoulder.

He guffaws as he lays his head on your foot, massaging it. You don’t know why the words ‘fiancé’ came out of your mouth. You don’t even know who you are in bed with. It like deja vu, and you can’t explain it, but it feels right. This is where you are supposed to be.

“I don’t think I can tell him that, baby,” he breathes in between laughs. “I’ll think of something.”

His free hand spreads your legs apart further, dipping his fingers into your wet heat. You hiss at the contact, every nerve in your body on alert.

“You're soaked, baby,” he coos, his thumb rubbing against your clit. “Maybe I’ll tell Seungcheol there was a leak that needs fixing.”

You're buzzing, unfocused, enthralled with the pleasure he is giving you. “Mmhmm, sure.”

The stranger shuffles, spreading your legs wider as he lowers himself to your center. His tongue takes a long swipe without warning, leaving you clutching your sheets. He moans and grunts in your pussy, tasting and sucking you as you squirm in his hands, the haze you are in multiplying by the second. Lip smacking, slurping, and lewd moans fill the room, lifting you further on cloud nine.

“Fuck, I—” you sound pathetic, but the incessant need to cum in his mouth is greater. You try to pull yourself together, but the pleasure is too great, and you succumb to him completely. Tugging his hair, you ride the wave of his tongue, chasing your release until it washes over you suddenly, leaving you with a vision of white and shaky breath.

“I got you, baby,” he says smoothly. “Give me all of it.”

You let out a guttural moan that ripples through you, gushing in his mouth unabashedly. He doesn’t let up, licking you until there is nothing left, leaving a kiss on your pulsing clit that makes you shudder. You dissolve into the blanket, slowly coming down from your high. Lying there with half-sleepy eyes and a smile on your face, the sunlight shifting as it rises in the sky. You turn your head as your lover lifts his face, the sunlight no longer protecting him, revealing him at least.

“I love you.”

You jolt upright, your heart beating heavily, your vision blurry, beads of sweat forming on your forehead. He disappears, and you’re no longer in the dreamy haze of light; instead, the softness shifts cruelly into a large room of unnatural darkness. Your alarm clock is blaring on the walls, the constant chirping grating on your nerves.

“Maxima, I’m awake,” you croak to the virtual assistant.

It takes a moment for your vision to fully come back, replaying what just happened in your bed. You dismiss it as a dream, but it feels so real, like an unlocked memory calling to you. You glance down at your crotch, noticing the obvious wetness between your legs. Letting out a loud groan, you scoot to the edge of the bed, your head in your hands, trying to make sense of it all.

Seokmin.

He was the man of your dreams. You were in love, you were happy, and seemingly engaged. Your parents never mentioned you to him, and maybe it is all just a dream, but you still remember how your body reacted when you were near him, as if he were a familiar instead of a stranger. Or maybe it is all in your head—a fantasy constructed by a lonely brain.

But something tells you there is more to the story, and if you want your mind to rest, you will need answers.

Aug 02 2061. 

That was the day Seokmin’s life changed forever.

He remembers the day like it was yesterday. You two watched the sun rise together, made love, and he watched you fall asleep before he left for the day. He did not, in fact, tell Seungcheol you had a leak that needed fixing, but Seokmin promised he would spend the next day with you. He had it all worked out with Seungcheol, and he was so excited to come home to you that night, to tell you the good news and plan the day together, or do nothing at all. It didn’t matter as long as he was with you.

But when you didn’t come home, and the minutes turned into hours, he knew something was wrong. Seokmin checked your location and noticed it was headed towards the opposite end of the city. He rushed out of the apartment like a bat out of hell, following your signal until it came to an abrupt stop at Neo City Memorial. Seokmin pushed on the gas pedal as hard as he could, running every traffic light and evading law enforcement to get to you. Every fear he had came true that night—you were hurt almost beyond repair, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

Seokmin shakes his head slowly, taking himself out of that day and back to reality, in an apartment where the sun no longer shines, barren of the life and love you brought into it. His phone buzzes again, and he sighs, grabbing the phone and swiping the screen up. His colleague and friend, Wonwoo, has been helping him with his investigation, digging into records that are behind red tape and out of his reach. A large file was sent to Seokmin’s email, encrypted with a password that only he knows.

Vulpes.

Entering his password, he connects his phone to a projector as the files load, filled with contacts of people who were at the club the night you were hurt. Scrolling through the list, he recognizes some of the names: bigwigs, politicians, and gang leaders who contribute to the corruption of Neo City. Nothing out of the ordinary. His attention turns to the file that holds the video footage, the icon blinking in sequences of threes. Tapping on his screen, he sees the video display on his wall, the frame still focused on a back entrance. 

“Let’s do this,” Seokmin sighs before pressing play. 

The video is audioless, with heavy rain pouring from the sky, slightly obscuring the street camera's lens. Seokmin watches intently, his fingers drumming on his leg in anticipation, not wanting to miss anything amiss. Growing impatient, he fast-forwards the video, the minutes dragging on with little to no movement to the back entrance. Did Wonwoo make a mistake? Seokmin thinks to himself. Maybe this is the wrong vid—

At 2:03 am, the back entrance door swings open, with two large men carrying what appears to be a woman, who is twisting and turning wildly, trying to get loose. A light flashed on the figure, briefly but clearly enough, which gave Seokmin pause. The blue dress, one he has seen too many times, is on display, and a chill shoots up his spine. Rewinding slowly, he stops at the frame, his chest tightening at the frozen image before him.

It’s you.

Seokmin stares for far too long, almost unable to believe what he is seeing. You were being carried out and manhandled like you didn’t matter, as if there wasn’t anyone out there who loved you and wouldn’t care if you disappeared. His blood boils with anger as he hastily taps the screen to let the video continue. One of the guards made the mistake of letting go of one of your legs, and you used it to your advantage, kicking him in the chest. He fell back, losing his step and falling ass-first onto the wet pavement. The other guard had your arms pinned behind your back, and as hard as you wrangled, you couldn’t get out of his lock. Even without audio, Seokmin knows you were giving them a good verbal lashing, a look of rage on your delicate face that Seokmin has never seen.

“Atta’ girl,” Seokmin says out loud. At least you still fought back.

Seokmin’s smile vanishes quickly when the fallen guard rose from the ground, stumbling towards you furiously. His fist connected with your left cheek, stunning you into shock. Blow after blow, the man assaulted you, hitting every exposed area he could. Seokmin watched your body go limp, the glee in the guard’s eyes embedded in his head. The guard holding you said something to your assaulter, who stopped his onslaught with a look of satisfaction on his face. Seokmin watches on, his stomach in knots, the anger burning deeper in his gut. These men will never see the light of fucking day again.

You're dragged to a waiting vehicle, set aside the passenger door like some sort of rag doll, your chest rising and falling slowly, your face swollen and bloodied. A figure stepped out of the back entrance, the light catching him, and Seokmin recognized him: Cado. Seokmin always sensed he didn’t like him much, and it’s not lost on him how Cado looked like you with carnality in his eyes. Cado knew better than to try anything in front of him, though.

Cado hustled over to the car, raising his hands angrily and slapping the backs of the heads of the guards. Opening the back door, he motioned for your assaulter to put you in the car. As he grabbed your arms, it is as if you were brought to life, and as an act of defiance, you spat in his face. The light goes out suddenly, just for a few seconds, but when it comes back on, you are on the wet ground, rain pouring on your face, with blood pooling from your head. Cado was enraged, picking you up and shoving you unceremoniously in the car, shouting and pointing in the north direction. Both guards entered the car, driving off suddenly, and Cado re-enters the club, the door shutting swiftly behind him.

The video stops playing, and Seokmin stands there, rooted in place and stewing in rage. He couldn’t be there to protect you, and he had to watch you experience the worst day of your life, and indirectly his too. You were supposed to be married now and living happy lives, but instead, you are apart, and you don’t remember a any of it.

Swiping to a different screen, he presses Wonwoo’s contact, the phone ringing once before he answers.

“You saw the video?”

“No shit,” Seokmin scoffs. “I want those guards found—”

“I’m already ahead of you, Seokmin,” Wonwoo answers. “I’m going to send you this address for the one who did the most damage.”

“Do that, and tell Seungcheol to meet me there,” Seokmin instructs. “Things will get extremely messy.”

“Well. You weren’t exaggerating about the mess.”

Seungcheol walks into the blood-splattered small apartment, slapping on a pair of black gloves made of matte obsidian and seamless synthetic polymer that clings like a second skin. Built with tech that alters fingerprint texture, it makes the person who uses it basically untraceable.

“I take it they are still alive?” Seungcheol surmises, stepping over broken glass.

“Barely,” Seokmin mumbles. Kneeling, he turns the head of one of the guards, the assaulter, Scion, lifting a finger under his nose.

As soon as Seokmin retrieved the address from Wonwoo, he was there in no time. He could’ve waited for Seungcheol to do things the ‘right way’, but all Seokmin could see was you being beaten and thrown around. He could have granted them mercy, but why should he? They gave you less than that, and now you’re both paying the price.

Seokmin hears shuffling behind him, and he turns, watching Seungcheol drag the other guard, Brucus, into the bathroom. He quickly learned their life story from the information Wonwoo sent over. Brucus’s family all died in the war in the neighboring desert, Dismiscus, a decade ago, and Scion comes from a family of lowlifes who are either dead, in jail, or walking the streets.

Basically, nobody would miss them when Seokmin wipes them off the face of the planet.

The bathroom door opens, and Seunghcheol comes out, his nose crinkling at the protruding smell that is starting to fill the space. “I’m pretty sure that guy took his last breath in the tub,” Seungcheol comments, surveying the living room. “I didn’t see any stab wounds or gunshots. What did you use?”

Seokmin holds up his left hand, showing off a glove made of synthetic chromium. “My goal was to make sure he stopped breathing.”

“Goal met,” Seungcheol quips.

Seokmin turns his attention back to Scion, tapping his cheek with two slaps. “Wake up.”

Scion doesn’t stir, his chest rising and falling as if he is in a deep coma. Without a second thought, Seokmin lowers a fist to his ribs, hearing a bone-shattering crack that satisfies him. Scion’s eyes almost bulge out of his sockets, followed by a piercing howl that is quickly covered by Seokmin’s fist.

“This pain is nothing compared to what you gave her,” Seokmin grits his teeth. “Tighten the fuck up.” Crimson slowly coats Scion’s lips. Seokmin stands straight, observing the weak man in this state. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and you are going to tell me everything I need to know.”

Scion slowly raises his head, meeting your gaze for the first time. “I’ve…seen…you…club.” His mouth twitches, a slight smirk on his lips. “You come to see our Vixen.”

Seokmin clenches his jaw, anger stirring in his stomach and hardening from within. He referred to you by your stage name, a nickname Seokmin gave you, and it makes him want to wring Scion's neck. Seungcheol appears to his left, adjusting his gloves. “So you know why he’s here then.”

Letting out a weak scoff, he attempts to sit up but winces, sliding further down the carpet. “Let’s…not play games.”

Seokmin couldn’t agree more. “Aug 02 2061,” he began. “Why was she being carried out of the club?”

Scion attempts to sit up again, lifting off the ground until he is comfortable. He doesn’t answer, instead pulling a cigarette from his front pocket and slipping it into his mouth.

“You got a light?”

Seokmin and Seungcheol exchange annoyed looks, shaking their heads in unison. Seungcheol digs into his pocket, pulls out a lighter, and flicks the switch to ignite the flame. Seokmin is in his right mind to take that cigarette and shove it down his throat while it’s still lit.

Scion looks at you carefully, inhales deeply, and lets out a wet cough. “It was on the boss’s orders.”

Seokmin stares, his jaw ticking in annoyance. “Cado?”

He nods, taking another puff. “That’s the one.” Wiping his nose with his sleeve, he closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. “She saw something she wasn’t supposed to see.”

That catches Seokmin’s attention. “What wasn’t she supposed to see?”

A slow, evil grin is on his lips, followed by a chuckle. “Business. Stuff way above my pay grade.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” Seokmin grits his teeth.

Scion doesn’t answer, instead burning out the cigarette in his hand. Seokmin takes a good look at him, watching the color slowly drain from his face. A long white scar trails from his sea-green, baggy eye to the corner of his mouth, and he looked rugged, rough around the edges, with tattoos and more scars riddling his arms. It would scare the average person walking down the street, but one thing Seokmin has learned in life is that it doesn’t matter how tough you look if you can’t back it up.

“You still want to protect your boss in death? That’s almost admirable.” Seokmin reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a 9 mm silencer. Taking a deep breath, he points the gun at his head, his index finger steady on the trigger. “I suggest you think long and hard about your answer.”

Flashes of your face and your smile flood his mind. The woman he knows, the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, was taken away from him cruelly. He will work day and night to get you back, and if a few brains have to be splattered on some walls, so be it.

“I’m not telling you shit—”

The gun goes off before Scion could finish his sentence, blood splattering on his face. Seokmin is numb, not bothered by the violence he had to inflict. He could do it ten times over and still wouldn’t satisfy him.

“Go, Seok,” Seungcheol commands, taking the weapon out of his hands. “I’ll clean up here.”

Seokmin nods, leaving without saying a word. He wasn’t concerned about the noise, since the apartment is in a shitty part of the city and everyone minds their own business. The rain starts to fall heavily from the sky, washing the blood off his face and his leather jacket. Seokmin stands there for a moment, soaking it all in, letting the memories of you dancing in the rain fill his mind. You were always carefree, a pretty bird in a city of terror, and he would give anything to have that back.

Climbing onto his motorcycle, he loads “I Feel Love” into his headphones and roars out of sight, the venom of vengeance consuming him whole.

You can’t stop thinking about Seokmin.

He encompasses every corner of your mind, the montage of your moment together fresh in your head. You seemed to be a couple in love, a familiarity that you somehow feel in your heart, and it bothers you. You don’t know who Seokmin is; you met him for the first time last week at the club. Why does it feel like you were meant to know him?

You gaze at your bare ring finger, rubbing it with your index finger as you're lost in thought. For the past few days, it has felt weird not having a ring there, and if you stare long enough, you imagine seeing an imprint of something that might have been there at one point. You don’t know.

“Is everything alright?”

Slowly coming out of your reverie, you glance at your mother, whose eyes mirror yours in color. “I’m fine,” you clear your throat, shaking your head. “Just a bit tired.”

You stab your fork lazily into your seared lemon trout, taking a small bite to appease your mother. You aren’t sure what your relationship was like during the years you were gone, but before then, she was barely a parent. You were raised by the various nannies that were employed in your home; your mother spent her time playing the perfect wife, and your father was hardly around. You were merely an afterthought unless there was an event that required the whole family to be together. Chin up and smile wide, your mother would dutifully remind you. You don’t want to embarrass your father or the company. Your name carries weight in Neo City, and your parents will protect it by all means, even making you a pawn whether you like it or not.

“Are you still working at that club?” Your mother grimaces. “I don’t know why you bother setting foot in that soiled establishment.”

“Because I like to sing, Mom, and being there lets me do that,” you respond, feeling slightly irritated. You glance at your father, who watches you carefully, his silence louder than anything your mother could say. Crossing your arms, you feel the erratic thump of your heart. “I know you guys are worried about me, but aside from a weird dream, I’m fine—”

“What dream?”

Your father’s voice is soft yet commanding, catching you off guard. He hasn’t talked much since you arrived, barely shown any interest in the daughter walking around with partial amnesia.

“It’s nothing really, Dad,” you dismiss it, shaking your head. “I doubt it means anything.”

“Tell me.”

Your eyes drift from your father to your plate, and you let out a quiet breath. Your finger taps on your leg, unease settling on your chest. If you say it out loud, it becomes real, this dream, that moment with Seokmin. You don’t know what to make of it, and it scares you, experiencing a level of intimacy with a stranger you only met once. But knowing your parents, they will not let it go, and you might as well rip the Band-Aid off now.

“I had a dream about someone who came into the club,” you start, running your fingers through your hair. “I don’t think I know him, but in the dream, it felt like I did. Like maybe I knew him before.”

“Oh?” Your mother’s eyes light up as she wipes her mouth with a napkin. “And you’re sure you don’t know him?”

“Yeah,” you shake your head. “This guy, Seokmin, I have never met him before—”

“Wait,” your father cuts in, raising his hand. “What did you say his name was again?”

‘Seokmin,” you confirm. Grabbing your glass of white wine, you take a sip, noticing his brow furrow with annoyance. “Do you know him, Dad?”

‘What?” Your dad slurs before shaking his head. “No, I don’t know him. I am just concerned about you having dreams about a stranger.” He smiles reassuringly, though it doesn’t match his eyes. “You are still taking your medication, right?”

You throw him an incredulous look and scoff. “Yes, I’m taking my medication!” you spit, rising from your seat. “How could you think that?”

“Well, hold on,” your mother leaps out of her seat, raising her hands. “Your father and I just want what’s best for you.” Her voice cracks at the end, tears welling in her eyes. “We almost lost you.”

You stare at your mother and father, the burning ember of anger brewing in your stomach slowly cooling off. There is something indescribable in your father’s eyes that leaves you uneasy, an ice-cold shiver spreading down your spine.

“It was just a dream,” your mother says. “I wouldn’t worry about it, okay?”

“Your mother is right,” your father agrees. “Sit down and finish dinner.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, but you don’t have any more will to fight with your family tonight. You do as you're told, slowly putting on your poker face as you finish your meal in silence. But something your gut tells you is more than just a dream, and even more sinister, your father might know something about it.

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since Seokmin has seen you, and the distance physically aches. Not that he hasn’t wanted to, but he’s been busy, cracking heads and taking names—so to speak.

He’s gone through the list of names that were there the night you were hurt, and showed up to a few of those places, gathering all of the information he could get. Some gave it to him willingly; others were harder to convince. It didn’t matter how he got it done, as long as he got what he was looking for. Some survived to see another day; others weren’t so lucky.

Seokmin stares at his hands in the bathroom, his hands covered with dirt and dried-up blood, bruised knuckles that are turning into a nasty shade of purple. Turning on the warm water, he washes the blood away with a fluxus genorum soap he acquired from the Neo City black market, which specializes in rapidly healing most injuries. It was created by a scientist who wanted to cure humanity of their ailments, but the government had other plans. It’s said that the scientist refused, and the scientist suddenly went missing, presumed to be killed by the others of your very own Senator. Yet somehow, his creation can be accessed by certain means. Seokmin always found that interesting.

He unbuttons his shirt, revealing fading bruises he didn’t care to heal. In a way, Seokmin is addicted to the pain. It’s one of the few things that’s real to him; the feeling of a fist trying to crush his abdomen or a pole that swings wildly on his arm. It’s an adrenaline high that he is not trying to be cured from. It keeps him focused and guarded on his investigation to reveal the truth and set you free.

And bring you back to him.

Seokmin strips off the rest of his clothes, washes up quickly, and changes into jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt, then pairs them with his leather motorcycle jacket. He puts on the cologne you like, hoping it will stir your memory in some way. He reminisces about the first time you brought the bottle home and sprayed it on him without warning.

“Whoa there, baby. What did you put on me?”

“Your good luck charm,” you said cheekily, holding up a small yellow bottle.

“My good luck charm is standing in front of me,” Seokmin flirted, pulling you by your waist.

“Well, yes,” you agreed, pressing the bottle onto his chest. “But this will give you an extra boost. It smells good.”

Seokmin squinted, trying to detect any deceit. You loved to prank him, and even though he knew what you were doing before it happened, he let you do it anyway. Seeing the joy in your eyes, the warm laugh that bubbled from your throat gave him endorphins no one else could replicate.

"This isn’t some sort of joke, is it?” Seokmin murmured, his hand drifting lower to squeeze your derriere.

“Mm mm,” you shook your head. “No joke, baby. I bought this with you in mind, and I hope it makes you think of me.”

“I think of you all the time,” Seokmin chuckled, leaning in. “It doesn’t take much.”

“Good, my sunflower,” you nodded proudly. You spray his neck lightly, rubbing in the cologne with your fingers. “Now take me to bed.”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Seokmin jolts himself back to the present, clutching the gun hidden in the back of his waistband. He wasn’t expecting anyone over, and aside from Seungcheol and Wonwoo, no one knows where he lives. He stalks towards the door, his heart racing, wondering if all of the bloodshed is catching up to him. Slowly looking into the peephole, he lets out a small breath of relief, followed by an annoyed scoff.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Seokmin unlocks the door, swinging it widely, facing the unwanted visitor.

“Silas.”

“Seokmin.”

The older man lets himself in, brushing his shoulder against Seokmin as a silent test to see if Seokmin will bite. He knows this type of man, the kind who gets a rise out of pushing buttons; they snap, and then the victim becomes the villain, fitting their narrative. Seokmin was almost always one step ahead of him, and he’s sure it's one of the many reasons he hates him.

“Yes, come in.’ he says under his breath, shutting the door.

“Why are you bothering her at the club?” Silas gets right to the point.

Seokmin gives him a slow, unimpressed once-over. “Because she’s my fiancée,” he answers bluntly. “That’s never going to change, no matter how you try to spin it.”

Silas snorts, surveying the space. “I think you need to get your head checked, boy. My daughter doesn’t and will not have anything to do with you.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Seokmin scoffs, holding eye contact. “Did you come all this way to puff out your chest? Or are you going to finally be the father she needs?”

Silas’s eyes narrow into menacing slits as he steps toward him, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You don’t know shit about what she needs.”

Seokmin lets out a short, dry laugh, feeling it deep in his gut. “Old man, I know way more than you think.” Stepping around him, he opens the door. “If that’s all you have to say.”

Silas does not invoke any fear in Seokmin’s heart. It doesn’t matter how many connections your father has; Seokmin will still find a way to take them down, and he’s doing alright so far.

Silas sneers, turning on his heel and storming down the hall. “You will regret this!” He barks over his shoulder.

“No, I won’t,” Seokmin yells back, slamming the door behind him.

The sound echoes through his apartment, and Seokmin lets out a long, drawn breath, relieving the tension in his abdomen. A visit from Silas is never a good thing, but it doesn’t deter him—it pushes him to dig even deeper to uncover the lies just beneath the surface. How did he know Seokmin was coming to the club? Aside from the obvious, why is Silas bothered by it?

A myriad of questions swirl in his head, his suspicions growing louder. Pulling out his phone, he presses the dial button and is immediately met with a voicemail. 

“Wonwoo. Look into Silas—yes, that Silas. I have a feeling this is bigger than we thought.”

I'm gonna tell you about love Let's forget your life Forget your problems Administration, bills and loads Come with me

You’re one with the rhythm, twirling in a sensual circle as you swing the mic in the air. There is a large attendance tonight, due to a convention in Neo City that brings nerds from all over the planet. You changed up your makeup at the last minute, going for a more divine look that brings out your eyes. Cado gave you shit for it, but you know what you’re doing, and it’s working; once again, everyone is at your mercy, their mouths partly open as you seduce the crowd with your voice.

Connect to the sky Future lovers ride their ambitions high, would you like to try? Let me be your guide, cut inside your pride Future lovers hide love inside their eyes

The red light sparkles on your dress, a tight, short number that accentuates your legs, paired with heels that are an accessory in their own right. Scanning the room, you let the vibrant energy take over, falling into a trance while you perform. Being on stage is truly your happy place, and there isn’t anywhere else you’d want to be.

As you sing, you’re drawn to a pair of warm brown eyes you could get lost in, a slow smile on his lips as he watches your every move. Excitement tingles through your body, and you keep your composure as you strut over to the man of your dreams.

Love controlled by time Future lovers shine for eternity in a world that's free Put away your past, love will never last If you're holding on to a dream that's gone I'm gonna tell you about love Would you like to try?

The final note lingers in the air, a shimmering vibration that seems to hold the entire room in an intoxicating suspension. As the crowd roars in applause, you wink at him, the shimmer of your makeup catching the strobe lights before you gracefully leave the stage.

Your heart is racing, but it’s not just because of the performance. Instead of heading to your dressing room, you detour to the floor, searching for him among all the bodies in colorful attire. You find your dream guy at the bar, ordering a drink with Chan. Despite the butterflies invading your stomach, you take a seat next to him.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet him with your signature low, sultry voice. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You did?” Seokmin responds, a gentle grin on his lips. “That just made my night.”

“I’m glad I could be of service.” You wink again. Feeling confident, you grab his hand, slide off your stool, and pull him along. “Walk with me?”

His hands feel the same as they did in your dream; warm, inviting, and safe. You notice the way his eyes dance as you lead him outside to your hideaway spot near the front entrance. You’re fully aware you’re acting recklessly, and you don’t really know Seokmin. For all you know, he could be a mass murderer. But despite all that, something in the back of your mind tells you it’s okay.

You stop in a tucked-away spot in the dimly lit alley, two patio chairs in front of an abandoned building. Streaks of magenta and cyan from the neon signs spread across the brick walls, alternating sides as the light adjusts according to its programming. No one else comes here, and you come here to think whenever the noise gets too loud. It’s your own little sanctuary, a small bit of peace that’s of your own making.

Seokmin digs into his jacket pocket, pulling out a pack of menthols and opening the carton toward you.

“Want one?”

You smile, taking one and slipping it between your lips. He lights it, his eyes not leaving yours, sending a jolt of sparks throughout your body.

“The man of my dreams,” you murmur as you exhale.

“Am I?” His eyes shift to something softer and unspoken, and you feel heat creep up on your neck.

“Figuratively speaking, of course,” you lie, inhaling deeply.

You exhale the smoke with a perfect ‘O’, watching it rise in the night air until it dissipates. You feel his eyes burning on you, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to explain that you feel drawn to him, and it feels like you were meant to know him. You haven’t had another dream since then, and yet, Seokmin has been in the back of your mind with every thought. You tried shaking it away, meditating away, even sexing it away with someone you met at a bar that you knew you would never see again. Nothing has worked, and you are starting to feel you are truly fucked.

“So what do you do, Seokmin?” you ask, discarding the ash from the stick.

“I’m a private investigator,” he answers, taking a puff of his cigarette. “Been doing it for a while.”

“Yeah?” You say, amused. “So you probably have seen a lot of crazy things.”

“Something like that.”

A sly grin curves on his lips, making him more attractive. “I bet you handle yourself well.”

“I… do my best,” he alludes. “I’m still breathing.”

“You look good and alive to me,” you laugh, your nerves suddenly getting to you. Turning to the side, you slap your hand lightly on your head. This has never been you. You don’t tumble over your words or get tongue-tied over anything, especially men. And yet, Seokmin has you all over the place, stumbling over everything you thought you knew.

“So… what do you do when you’re not hypnotizing clubs or terrorizing your boss?”

You let out an embarrassing snicker, caught off guard by his statement. “What makes you think I terrorize my boss?”

Seokmin throws you a look, a twinkle in his eye as he raises a brow. “You perform like that on stage, and you tell me you aren’t driving your boss nuts?”

You almost choke on your cigarette, laughing. The nerves leave you as easy as they came. “Is it terrorizing or just knowing that I’m right?”

He shrugs with a smirk on his lips. “Touche.”

You shake your head playfully, putting out half of your cigarette. You aren’t really a smoker, but he offered, and you didn’t want to turn him down. Gazing at the sky, the two moons of the planet are full, in a shade of red that appears only once every millennium. How ironic that you are sharing it with the man of your dreams.

“I would ask if you come here often, but I think we know the answer to that,” you say, sauntering closer to him. “I never forget a face—brain injury aside.”

Seokmin bites his bottom lip, turning away slightly to hide a grin.

“It’s okay to laugh,” you encourage him. “My accident didn’t deprive me of my sense of humor, thank gods.”

He lets out a guffaw, his voice echoing off the walls of the alley. In the darkness, you see the light in his eyes, and it melts you. He's even more handsome than he was the first day you saw him.

“You… are funny,” Seokmin manages to say in between breaths. “Are you sure you don’t want to be a comedian?”

“Nah.” You scrunch your nose playfully. “I’d get bored.”

The time on the nearest building dings midnight, signaling your break being over. You don’t want to leave; you want to stay in this place and get to know him, figure out what makes him tick and why you can’t get him out of your head. Silence falls between you two, loud thoughts running through your mind, unsure of what to say next.

“So will you be coming back—”

“—Do you want to go out with me sometime?”

You stare at each other, the silence thick and charged with the kind of electricity that would raise your hair in the wind, followed by a lightning strike. A slow, playful smile curves on your lips as you lean in, the scent of his vanilla-and-spice cologne swirling around you, mixed with the sharp tang of menthols.

“You wanna go out with me?” you tease him. “How do you know I’m not a crazy person who takes their victims into dark alleys?”

Seokmin’s laugh is silvery, his foot itching closer to you, the warmth of his presence vibrating off you. “You’re a creative woman. I’m sure you could do better than that.”

You cock your head back in laughter, almost at a loss for words. “Touche.” Looking back towards the club, you turn to him again. “Walk me back?”

Seokmin holds out his arm to you, and you slip into it easily, like a fitted glove. The walk back is mostly quiet, aside from exchanging numbers and agreeing to see each other in two days. The neon lights dance on your skin, and the club's impending noise grows louder with each step. It’s like you're in your own bubble, existing with him with ease, feeling a sort of peace you didn’t know you needed.

When you reach the entrance, the bubble bursts as Cado leans against the doorframe, arms folded with irritation on his face. His eyes land on you two, his dark pupils narrowing into predatory splits.

“You’re late for your second set, Vixen,” Cado says with a smile that doesn’t match his eyes. “Let’s get you inside, gorgeous.”

He holds out his hand, but his gaze is on Seokmin, his poker face faltering with each second. You glance at Seokmin, who meets the gaze with an unimpressed stare, stepping back slightly to give you space.

“I’ll see you Friday, sunflower.”

You watch him walk away, disappearing into the night. Giddiness takes over; you wish you could leap forward two days. You feel Cado’s hands grip your upper arm, a tad too much pressure, making you wince. You’re ushered back inside, the thumping bass, the thick smoke, and expensive perfume irritating your nose.

“You don’t have to guide me to my dressing room,” you bite. “I’m not a child.”

“If only you knew the concept of time is money,” Cado snaps. “You have five minutes.”

You step into the dim light of your dressing room, the mirror reflecting your image in all of its glory. You quickly tousle your hair, adjust your dress and makeup, and touch your lips with a shade of red that would make the devil jealous. You were done in two minutes instead of five, rolling your eyes at Cado’s attitude earlier.

“I don’t know what his issue is,” you mutter to yourself. “I’m already done.”

Swinging the door open, you make your way to the stage, passing by the boss’s door, which is left slightly ajar.

“Yeah, she’s in the dressing room now… yes, I will keep an eye on her.”

You come to a halt, a chill coming down your spine. You may have lost part of your memory, but you aren’t naive—he is talking about you.

“Yeah… yeah… He was here again.”

Your heart starts to race, everything suddenly feeling heightened as you continue the conversation. Why is Cado so invested in you and who you keep your company with?

“Are you alright?”

You turn around suddenly, facing Chan, who is standing in the hallway, holding boxes of liquor, presumably to stock the bar. You blink, your ears burning from embarrassment and being caught red-handed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you croak, clearing your throat. “I just have a slight headache, that’s all.”

“Oh, if you want, I can give you coltis powder later; that’ll clear it up.”

You give him a weak smile. “I would appreciate it, Chan.”

He nods and walks around you, going back to the bar. You pinch your nose, shaking your head as you let out a loud sigh. Fuck, that was close. Turning around, you see Cado’s door is now closed, ending any chance you had to hear more of the conversation. Disappointment starts to seep in like a leak, but you push it aside, realizing your five minutes are up and it’s time to get on stage. You put on your best poker face, going on stage to applause and cheers, your hands resting on the microphone as you begin your next set.

“Who’s ready for more?”

The crowd cheers.

Turning to your right, you meet the eyes of Cado, who watches you intently with an all-knowing look you can’t understand. You wink at him and begin your set, seemingly showing everyone all is right in the world.

But that’s the opposite of the truth, and it’s far from over.

Part 2 will be posted soon! Let me know what you think in the comments or reblogs <3

“Hey baby, you looking for a good time?” A sleazy voice called out when you walked past; the heavy unpleasant smell of booze, piss, old oil, and cigarette smoke heavily coming from that direction. It made your lips curl in disgust when the mixture met your nose and kept your eyes forward.

Pulling the large thick trench coat tighter around your body, you hoped that it would hide away the little outfit you wore to work and took the chance to inhale the comforting scent of your boyfriend that lingered on the fabric. Keeping you grounded and giving you the strength to bite your tongue.

You ignored the man and his friend yelling insults at your back as you continued your journey through the near empty streets of the Shadow District, back home. With one hand gripping the knife under the thick sleeves, one that Wonwoo had insisted you carry for protection. Luckily, you were able to go another day without having to use it, with the most those men could do was yell out names at your back as you disappear in the crowd.

Even with how early it was, or late depending on the person, the streets were still filled with people. Stores opening their doors to sell synthetically processed foods and supplements to help curve your hunger or thirst, groups of people still enjoying the night life despite the sky glowing grey with smog and sunrise, or those hiding in the shadows, waiting for someone to approach them for the drugs they had in their pockets.

Eagerly waiting for the next victim to get hooked and keep coming back for more.

That was life here in Huimang, named with the intentions of being a City of Hope, but hope was not even a luxury that many people could have. You being one of them, but this was still your home.

The apartment was quiet when you got in, with the grey morning light peeking through the blinds and violet lights that Wonwoo left for you. He was long asleep in your bedroom, greeted by golden eyes and soft meows from your shared cat instead. Her soft dark fur feeling comforting against your leg, and you were quick to shed the coat to pick her up.

“Hello to you too, Doodle Bug.” You cooed at the small feline, scratching the side of her head as you made your way into the small kitchen. Wiggling free, Doodle jumped from your arms to the floor, only to look back at you to meow and it brought a smile to your face, “Didn’t your dad feed you before he went to bed?”

This earned another meow from her, and you chuckled. “Alright, alright. You win. Early breakfast it is.”

After feeding the cat a can of her favorite food, you made sure her water bowl was full before making your way to the bathroom to clean up. The boots you switched to after work kicked off to a random corner of the small living room, the revealing top thrown over the back of the sofa, and your shorts that felt more like underwear left on the ground by the bathroom. You didn’t care that you would need to pick up everything later.

The shower felt amazing on your skin, the hot water washing away everything that had clung to you from working that night—sweat, spilled booze, tobacco smoke, the disgusting things that had been said to you, and the ghost of hands that tried to touch you as you tried to serve drinks.

It left the stripped away version of you. The real version of you, or what was left of it from years of running and trying to survive.

When you emerged from the steamy shower, the cold air of the apartment bit at your damp skin and a shiver ran through you. You were ready to slip into the warmth of your bed, into the warmth of Wonwoo. The shower may have washed everything away, but it also made you aware of how sore your muscles were, and how tired you were. Each day growing heavier on you, no matter how many hot showers you took.

You didn’t bother putting on any pajamas, just slipping onto the old worn bed, with your boyfriend sleeping on his side. His back faces you as you settled under the bedding and moved to mold your body against it, pressing your lips against his bare shoulder.

“How was work?” His voice was deeper than usual, rough with sleep, taking one of your hands that rested against his stomach. The sound and gesture making your lips upturn against his skin.

“The usual. Rich, drunk and high assholes that don’t know how to or even capable of keeping their hands too themselves. Thinking that flaunting their wealth, and expensive body mods will impress anyone enough to sleep with them.” You let out a soft sigh, eyes closed while you welcome the warmth of your boyfriend, feeling his thumb run over the back of your hand.

Wonwoo stopped before he shifted himself to sit up, causing you to lift your head in confusion. There was some dried drool at the corner of his mouth, his black hair a tangled mess from sleep, and a frown on his lips. He had taken his left eye out to sleep, so only his right one was opened and trained on you with concern.

Just looking at him made your heart flutter still after years together, still the most beautiful person you ever laid eyes on. You couldn’t stop from thinking of how lucky you were to have him love you and be in your corner. Your missing piece.

“They touched you?” He asked calmly, that sleepy rasp was now gone and something dangerous took center stage. “And Seungcheol did nothing about this?”

“Seungcheol wasn’t there tonight. You know if he was, or any of us said something, they would be out on their asses. Their credits aren’t any good there if they fuck with the servers, no matter how rich they claim to be.” You answer, rolling onto your back, trying to not giggle when his eye dropped to your bare breasts when they moved. You reached out to run your hand over his arm, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s not anything I can’t handle, baby. They eventually get bored when they realized that I wouldn’t let them fuck me in the bathroom.”

“I should kill them for touching you.” His words sounded more like a growl while he leaned over you. His gaze slid over your frame before it returned to your face. “Only I can touch you.”

“As lovely as that sounds, I rather keep you next to me and not behind a glass window.” The hand that had been resting on his arm moved up to his neck so you could pull him into a kiss.

Wonwoo didn’t resist your pull, leaning down to find your lips, tasting the minty flavor of the teeth cleaning tablet still fresh on your tongue. The kiss was brief, but it still ignited a fire in you, your body warming, and it seeped to your core. You found yourself chasing his lips when he pulled back, the soft whine that left you earned a smirk from your boyfriend.

“Only I’m allowed to touch you.” He repeated, his mouth brushing against yours, slipping on top of you and his hips pushing your thighs open without any resistance from you. He didn’t wear clothes to bed, so when he pressed down, there was no barriers against his hardening cock and your own bare heat. Another moan escaped you, as your hips instinctually moved as if you would be able to catch the tip of his thick length just the right way. “Only I can fuck you in those bathrooms.”

“Is that so?” You teased, trying to not let your lashes flutter at the way Wonwoo’s strong hand grabbed your hips, holding it there with more pressure than needed, but you didn’t mind his possessiveness over you. He pulled his face back to give you a look, knowing that bratty but aroused smirk all too well, and had to hold back a very vocal groan feeling your cunt getting slicker against the underneath of his cock.

“Last I checked, I am in charge of who touches me, and where I get fucked.”

Wonwoo’s mouth latched onto yours, this time his kiss hungry to taste you again, relishing that you returned that same hunger. You were tired, your body desperate for sleep, but you could never pass up a moment like this; especially when you know letting him fuck you would help you sleep better.

His hands moved down your body, caressing your breasts and teased your hardened peaks, while his tongue took claim of yours. Teasing and sucking on it, each of you swallowing moans his hips moving against yours, his cock sliding through your slit teasingly. Letting himself be coated by your arousal, teasing you.

“You want to play a little, or just want me to fuck you?” Wonwoo asked, pulling from the kiss, his eye looking over your face, a lazy smirk playing over his lips. The question made you laugh because it didn’t sound the least bit romantic or intimate, but at the same time, neither of you were aiming for that. Except you weren’t going to miss a chance to pick on him. “What?”

“You sure know how to romance a…oooh.” The words were lost when he shifted his hips back so that he could slip a hand between your legs, slender fingertips slipping between your folds and found your clit with practiced ease. “Fuck… Wonwoo…”

“If you want me to be romantic…” His voice was soft, his touch matched it in movement. Slow, gentle circles around your sensitive bud, teasing and earned whimpers from you. He was doing this on purpose. His lips barely brushed against your as he spoke again. “Then you’re out of luck.” You went to roll your eyes, but instead they rolled back when two fingers pushed into you, a little gasp leaving you while a groan left him. “Always so wet for me. This is why only I can fuck you.”

“Then do it, you dick.” You snapped, though there was no punch behind it, only to earn a chuckle from him. His fingers were going at a slow agonizing pace, like he hadn’t just woken from a deep sleep, and you didn’t just spend all night working. Taking his time like it wasn’t early hours in the morning.

“You’re demanding.”

“But you love me and will listen anyways.” And he did listen, withdrawing his fingers so he could line himself up; the thick tip barely pressed into you making you groan in a mix of frustration and anticipation. He may have listened, but he sure as hell was going to torture you a bit and pulled back when you would try to roll your hips. “Wonwoo!”

He did this to you a few more times before finally sinking into you, earning a moan of pleasure and relief as he took a quick inhale of breath. Your inner walls squeezed and molding to him in such a delicious way that he had to clear his head or he was going to cum right then.

“Fuck baby…” He groaned, stilling after he filled you completely, his forehead pressed against yours and both eyes squeezed shut this time. Your own body was shaking, relishing in the feel of him on top of you and inside you, fitting together like missing pieces.

When he finally started to move, Wonwoo created a tantalizing pace with his thrusts, making sure not only you felt every inch of his length but for his own enjoyment as well. He wasn’t in a rush, but neither of you were going to last long.

“I love you.” You moaned out, clinging to him in need to feel him over every inch of your skin. You needed to feel the weight of him on you, to be grounded, to know he’s still real, that you were still alive. Wonwoo’s mouth was hot on your collarbone, one hand holding onto your hip using his strength to keep you where he wanted you while the other massaged one of your breasts, leaving marks where it would be hard to hide.

“I love you too, fuck. I love you so fucking much,” His words came out labored, the deep vibrations of his voice sending waves over you with his words, his thrusts started to get sloppy quickly. Too lost in the feeling of you and exhaustion that still clung to him.

He was getting close to his release; except he refused to let go first. He had to make you come undone around him before he could. Wonwoo was a lot of things in life, but he was never a selfish lover; at least he never was one with you.

The hand that was massaging the fatty flesh of your breast slipped between you to give you a bit of help to get to your release. He smirked against your skin, gently pressing his lips to a fresh mark, when you let out a small cry when he started to tease your clit. Your nails raked down his back and left red scratch marks down his back.

You weren’t sure if you were just sensitive from the hot shower, and exhaustion but the mixture of his cock plunging into your warmth and his quick finger movements was just enough to push you over the edge. Your body shaking as your release washed over you, any moans and gasps leaving you were now swallowed up by Wonwoo. His mouth was hot against your lips, tongue eagerly licking the inside of your mouth; his moans turning into soft whines.

You were already snug around him, but when you came it was like you were squeezing the life from him. Wonwoo tried to hold out a little longer, until your hands moved down his body to grab his ass, pushing his hips into you to grind and that was it for him. Letting himself go inside you, filling you until he couldn’t give any more.

Neither of you moved for a moment, his kiss now slowing to a gentle make out and a hand cupping your cheek. The room dim and quiet, letting you both forget that there was a dark world out the confides of your little apartment. When that moment passed, Wonwoo pulled himself out with a sensitive wince and rolled himself off you with a groan.

“You are going to be the death of me.” He muttered, now on his back and pulling you to his side. Giving you enough time to move so you were facing him before you were pressed against his slick skin.

“You’re the one who started it.” You mumbled, still attempting to catch your breath as your eyes closed. Your body is completely relaxed, and exhaustion had finally taken you under.

Barely awake, you said in a sleepy tone, “We need to clean up.”

“No we don’t.” Wonwoo grumbled, sleep taking back over him, turning his head to press a kiss to your hairline. “We need to sleep.”

The excessive knocking started to turn into pounding and finally ripped you from your deep sleep. An annoyed groan left your lips as you rolled onto Wonwoo’s side of the bed, empty and feeling cool against your skin. Showing he had been up and gone for a while.

“Fuck off…” You mumbled, but whoever was at your door was persistent, and you couldn’t ignore it any longer. Getting up, you stumbled through the room to find clothes since you weren’t going to answer naked. Luckily, you found a pair of shorts and a shirt of Wonwoo’s, and whoever it was now full on pounding at the door. Causing you to exhaustedly yell, “Fucking stop it! I’m coming!”

Padding through the small apartment, you were tempted to grab a knife from the kitchen once you realized who it was. Especially when the pounding turned into some kind of beat since this asshole thought he was clever.

Ripping the door open, you were met with the bane of your existence leaning against the door frame; acting like he didn’t just use your door as his personal beat box. His attention on his cybernetic hand that he currently had out as a claw. To the Shadow District, he was Hoshi, but to you and a small group of people, he was Kwon Soonyoung. Your best friend by force more times than choice at this point.

“Finally. Thought I was going to have to claw this door down.” He mused, turning his sharp eyes on you with his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek.

“And if I don’t kill you for it, Wonwoo definitely will.” You snapped, turning from open door to walk to the kitchen. Pushing off the frame, Soonyoung grabbed a plastic bag that was resting at his feet before sauntering into the apartment and closed the door behind him. “It’s too early for this.”

“It’s almost two in the afternoon.” He pointed out, and you shot him a dirty look over your shoulder.

“I worked late last night, you idiot.” You grumbled, and this made him chuckle, retracting his tiger claws so it was normal metal hand. “What are you doing here anyways? Besides pissing me off while the sun is still out.”

“Was able to get my hands one some fresh fruits, like fresh from a farm type. Wanted to share them with one of my bestest friends.” Soonyoung watched as you froze, turning toward him slowly with interest. Your eyes dropped to the plastic bag in his hand filled with strawberries, oranges, and peaches dangling from his normal hand, only for you to look back up at his face. Seeing right through him, and from the look on his face, he knew it too. “Aaaannnddd maybe some credits.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You no longer felt sleepy or even tired anymore, instead you felt a rush of anger through you. You knew that he was using the fruit to attempt to butter you up. “Why didn’t you use the credits you used on the fruit?”

“Didn’t pay for these. I actually called in a favor from a friend. Figured bring an offering to sweeten the passing of credits.”

You groaned in frustration as you snatched the bag from him. He didn’t put up a fight, instead diverting toward the sofa while you moved to the small kitchen to clean and have some of the fruit for breakfast. Frustrated that he’d known you would take the fruit, but he didn’t know you weren’t going to give him a single credit.

“Go away, Soonyoung. Come back around when you’re not wanting something from us.” You told him, waving your hand dismissively in the air. “I told you before, I am not supporting your addiction anymore. Me and Wonwoo are barely making ends meet as it is.”

The blond tsked before he said your name in a slow and condescending tone, one that made your stomach turn uncomfortably, his sharp eyes looking in your direction. Taking in that your hair was still sleep ridden, Wonwoo’s shirt was actually inside out, and your shorts peeking from under just enough to show you rushed to get dressed. Analyzing you and your blatant lie.

“See… you and I both know that is a lie.” He went to say more, but Doodle had distracted him by jumping onto the sofa, meowing, knowing perfectly well that Soonyoung would give her the attention that she was ‘desperate’ for. Reaching out to pet the feline, he finally continued. “If I’m not mistaken, but isn’t your mother still sending you your monthly allowance? With an extra two thousand credits to convince you to leave Wonwoo and come home.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You huffed out, knowing that the only reason your friend was bringing that up was because he was fiending; needing another hit to numb himself like everyone else in this city.

Tears started to sting your eyes, because you hated this side of him. The Soonyoung you once knew wouldn’t do this to you, he would never resort to blackmail, but the fiend version of him would and does with no remorse.

“Oh, we both know you do.” He responded in a calm voice, a wide smile on Soonyoung’s face as he played with Doodle. “What better way to say, ‘fuck you Mom’ than letting me use the credits to buy drugs and you can continue to live with Wonwoo and he can stay blissfully unaware of that little account.”

“Fuck you, Soonyoung.” There was a silence between you, a tense one with the only sound was Doodle’s little chirps. “Get out.”

“I guess, you’re right.” He leaned forward to peck the top of your cat’s head, with her meeting his lips with a soft headbutt. Standing, Soonyoung adjusted his ridiculously baggy pants and his compression shirt. “Wonwoo should be at the docks, right? Him and Gyu doing some recon by helping unload some freight? Maybe I should pay him a bit of a visit, see how him and that deliciously muscular man are doing.” He started toward the door, stopping as he reached for the handle, “Would be such a shame if I happen to let it slip that you’ve been hiding who you were before coming to the Shadow District… or well… ran away to it. I am pretty sure he wouldn’t like knowing the person he loves and trusts isn’t who he thought she was and is hiding a dark secret.”

“You’re a real piece of fucking work, you know that right?”

“I know, one of a kind. No one else like me. So a thousand credits sound good?” Soonyoung then turned around, crossing his arms and leaned against the door. The triumphant smile that graced his lips made your nose scrunch in disgust.

“Not a chance.” You shook your head and the smirk he was wearing started to twitch. “I can give you fifty credits.”

“Now, that isn’t going to work, but I’ll bump it down.” Soonyoung scratched his chin like he was thinking of a new total, before snapping his fingers. “Seven hundred.”

“No. Fifty credits.”

“Listen, I brought you fresh fruit!” He dropped his arms to his sides and stomped his feet childishly, but you didn’t miss the way his cybernetic fingers started to lengthen in claws. “This shit is hard to get.”

“Hard to get fresh fruit, that you didn’t pay for.” You could see the way his eyes were darkening dangerously, but you couldn’t give him the amount he wanted. You didn’t have it, and that account he referenced was one you refused to touch or even acknowledge. “I can do seventy five right now if you leave my fucking apartment.”

“You know you drive a hard bargain.” That smirk was back, and he took a few steps toward you, flexing the now clawed adorned hand. “I’ll take that seventy five, and then I am going to stroll down to those docks.” He held it up when you went to speak, and you closed your mouth. “Now, if you don’t want that, then I will gladly take two hundred credits now and your secret stays safe with me.”

“You’re an asshole.” You answered in defeat, turning away from him to wipe away a stray tear from your cheek and went to find your phone to send the credits. You didn’t want him to see you cry, knowing that this Soonyoung wouldn’t feel an ounce of guilt for it, nor did you want to see the way he bounced excitedly. “Don’t come back around after this, because I’m not giving you another fucking thing. Just take the credits and leave me alone.”

“Yeah, sure.” He didn’t believe you when you said this, he never did. Hell, you didn’t even believe the words that came out of your mouth. “You and I both know that you can’t live without your best friend.”

“You’re not my best friend.” You told him, your stomach sick as you sent the credits through the thin device. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes to push back any more tears and attempted to calm yourself before you threw a knife at his head. With a slow breath out, you turned to look at the stranger where Soonyoung once stood. “My best friend died the moment he got hooked on that shit. You’re just the scum that came out of the ashes.”

“Ah, haven’t been referred to as a Phoenix before. I think I prefer tigers still.” He was able to hear the hurt in your voice, he was able to see the pain in your eyes, but he didn’t care. He was too excited that he was able to get high on your credits. “Pleasure doing business with you. Let me know how Wonwoo likes the strawberries. Made sure to grab those for him.”

“Just leave.” You looked away from him, your words felt more like a plea then a demand, one that he actually listened to. But only cause he had what he wanted.

You heard the door open, and his heavy boots walk through the threshold, but you didn’t hear the door close.

“Oh, I forgot to mention.” He spoke slowly, his voice still smug, but there was something softer to it. Like for a moment, your best friend was trying to push past the fiend. “Seokmin saw notices on Holiday. Eviction notices.” Your back stiffened at those words, that sick feeling in your stomach turned into acid in your throat, but you didn’t look back at him. Holiday was a street right before the Shadow District. “I think you and I both know what that means.”

You knew perfectly well what that meant.

“Guess you can’t run from your mom or Skyfall forever.” And with that, Soonyoung closed the door behind him. Leaving you to stand there, next to the counter filled with the fruits he brought.

Tainted with blackmail and betrayal, but that was nothing compared to the anger and fear that you were feeling by his parting words. You felt like you were thrown off kilter, your body no longer felt like yours but the intense emotions that coursed through you.

After all these years that you lied to yourself that the Shadow District wouldn’t be touched by the filthy hands of those rich bastards. Convincing yourself that the home you found here with Wonwoo, with your friends, didn’t always have a looming threat at your door. That you could go a lifetime without seeing her.

It had been years since you ran, but it was still not enough time. It was never enough time to stay away.

The frustrated scream that left you didn’t sound like you, it was raw and from somewhere deep inside you, as you angrily swiped the fruit off the counter and onto the ground. Forgetting that you had pulled out a knife to cut them up and sliced your hand.

“Fuck!” You grasped your wrist, blood starting to come out of the cut, more tears breaking through. Sinking to the ground, you let out a wail as your cried. You were in pain, you were hurting deeper than pain, you were scared.

You were naïve to think that anywhere was safe. Safe from her, safe from Skyfall Industries, safe from the suffocating feeling of greed that came to be a constant in this greedy city.

You lied to Wonwoo when he came home that day, told him that you cut yourself slicing up the fruit Soonyoung had dropped off. Worked it in a way that you wanted him to believe that you had bought them from him, refused to say what happened during your former best friend’s visit, but adamant that the cut happened after he left.

You tried not to look at him when his left eye lens flickered as he scanned your body but failed. Allowing him to read your vitals, take any changes in them, but he didn’t question you further despite of what he’d seen. He didn’t even need to scan you though, unable to hide your distress. That something had happened with Soonyoung, and something deadly started to stir.

He could’ve easily leave, find Soonyoung and put a knife to his throat for upsetting you, for making you feel like you needed to lie to him, but he didn’t. Wonwoo was the quick tempered type, and he had no problem punching or stabbing someone instead of talking it out or walk away, especially when it came to you. But Wonwoo also knew that there was some things that he couldn’t resolve with violence.

Soonyoung, unfortunately, was one of those some things. You were too protective over him, no matter how much the fiend hurt you, but he knew that there was more to it. And whatever that fiend had over you, it kept you from cutting him off. It kept you from telling him.

“Earth to Wonwoo,” Vernon spoke up, pulling the older man from his thoughts and turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. The younger man was sitting on a filing cabinet that was in the corner of Jihoon’s office, one arm resting on his knee while his head leaned back against the wall. “I know it sucks down here, but we are talking business.”

“Sorry.” Wonwoo answered with a sigh, his eyes moved toward the other two men in the room. Jihoon was sitting at his desk chair, his attention on the tablet in his hands and not on the rest on the room. Mingyu was leaning against the wall next to the door, and his attention on his best friend, sensing something was up the moment he saw him. “What was the question again?”

“What did you see in the boxes from the dock yesterday?” Jihoon repeated, and a scoff left Vernon when he did. “Mingyu said you saw something in some of the boxes.”

“It wasn’t what I saw, it was what I didn’t see.” Wonwoo could hear Mingyu murmuring an apology for getting it wrong and leaned forward to rest his chin on his hand. This made Jihoon finally look at him. “That and where they were going.”

“What you mean you couldn’t see?” It was Vernon who spoke, another scoff leaving him as he looked for a pack of cigarettes in the pockets of his jumpsuit, not caring that he received a dark look. “Thought that hacked ass eye of yours could see through shit. You know through thermal scans or some shit.”

“I am not above putting a knife through your own fucking eye. Make you just like me.” Wonwoo warned, which only earned another cocky laugh. The cybernetic-free punk ass knew that he wasn’t joking or bluffing, but they just didn’t give a shit, making his hand twitch toward the knife that he kept hidden away.

“Just get to it.” Jihoon snapped, shooting his own dark look toward both of them. “Why couldn’t you see?”

“Most the boxes, easy to scan and act like I am verifying cargo, but there was about three or four large ones. Couldn’t get a reading at all.” Adjusting in his seat, Wonwoo continued to speak. “Boxes came up empty, but they were definitely not.”

“Took ten of us just to move one onto the truck.” Mingyu grumbled, sounding annoyed that he had to be reminded of the labor he had to do. “No way we were going to be able to move those with the forklift.”

“Well, where are they taking them?” Vernon asked, while Jihoon looked between the two men before them.

“The Factory.” Mingyu answered. The Factory was a warehouse on the dock, typically a storage unit for parts until they are shipped to facilities to build or specialize in installing them on people.  

“Why is that so weird? Everything goes there.” Jihoon sat the tablet down onto his desk to stand, a low grimace sketched over his face, his hand reaching down to massage his leg only to be met with metal. The rest of the group watched in silence as Jihoon schooled his expression and cautiously took steps away from his desk.

“That’s their first stop. The next stop is an address on Holiday. Skyfall Cybernetics Shop, but the address is a set of apartments right now.” This brought an uncomfortable silence over them, one that even Vernon was part of. This was too close to home, and none of them wanted to actually say what it could mean. After a heartbeat of silence, Wonwoo was the one to say it, “This is becoming more than stealing parts.”

“You’re right.” Jihoon nodded, not looking toward anyone as he tried to pace but only manage an awkward limp. Without thinking, Wonwoo’s left eye flickered behind his glasses, scanning his friend and boss to analyze him. Checked for anything different in his vitals.

Jihoon may have been good at keeping himself levelheaded in front of his crew, he never liked showing his worry nor when he was in pain, but he couldn’t hide it away from Wonwoo. And it wasn’t like it was something he typically did, he wouldn’t just scan his friends unless he felt like he needed to, but something told him to do it, and he was right to. Not only was his friend in pain, but he could tell by the increased vitals that there was more than that.

This was more than a simple heist job, this was more than stealing a few parts for a few thousand credits to split. They could easily still go on with the job, focus on the parts on the list and ignore the large boxes since they weren’t what they were looking for. But if Skyfall Industries took the steps to make it where not even scanners could penetrate the boxes, then that possibly meant more security so their usual ways weren’t going to cut it.

It caused the unspoken question hang heavy among the four of them. Was taking this job a good idea after all?

A familiar rhythmic knock broke through the silence that had followed Jihoon’s words, causing the four of them to look toward the opening door. It was Soonyoung, practically skipping into the room with wide eyes, pupils completely blown out, and his skin had a glow to it. His blond hair spiked up, and it was a surprise that the corner of his lips weren’t splitting from the size of his shit eating grin he wore.

The fucking fiend was on a high, and it was obvious to the rest of the people in the room. No scan was needed for this.

“Why hello there gentlemen. Lovely day isn’t it?” He said with a chirpy voice, shooting a smug look toward Wonwoo as he went to close the door. Like he was rubbing something into his face without saying what it was, and that deadly feeling started to stir inside again.

His thoughts went back to when he had come home to you, your hand wrapped in gauze and a few droplets of blood that you missed on the floor. He thought back to how you wouldn’t look at him when you told him that you did it while cutting fruit, the fruit that you ‘bought’ off Soonyoung, and the way your voice was raspy but still full of tears. You made him promise to not go and off the fiend, that he had nothing to do with your hand or your state.

And Wonwoo tried to keep his promise to you, even though he didn’t believe you, because you were so protective over Soonyoung. But that smug look on that mother fucker’s face, while your teary and sad look was burned into his brain, snapped something in him. He was out of his seat before he could stop himself.

A hiss of pain left Soonyoung when Wonwoo slammed him against the door, the doorknob jabbing into his back while a knife was pressed to his throat. Pinning him to the office door and made the three other men yell in surprise.

“You got some fucking nerve showing your face around me right now.” Wonwoo hissed, pressing his sharp knife to Soonyoung’s jugular, more than willing to slice his neck open. “Not after how you left my girl yesterday.”

“Oh that…” Soonyoung sighed dramatically, his cybernetic hand resting on Wonwoo’s arm with the tips of the metal fingers lengthened to sharp claws. A warning from the fiend, but Wonwoo didn’t care. He was seeing so much red that it triggered his fake eye to turn the bright color behind his glasses, and Soonyoung’s smug look turned sadistic. Wonwoo wanted to end him right then and there, ready to watch him bleed out on Jihoon’s office floor. “You’re being so dramatic, all I did was sell her some fruit.”

“You drugged up mother fucker.” The words came out like venom which switched something in Soonyoung, because his blown out eyes flashed and the claws of his hand started to rip the sleeves of his coat. His unserious warning now turning deadly in its own right. Either of them could kill the other right then and there easily.

Neither man would do it though. Wonwoo wouldn’t because he would lose you for good if he did, while there was still shards of the old Soonyoung inside the fiend somewhere that stopped him. Except it didn’t stop them from wanting to, and that was enough to have the other men on them quickly.

Mingyu’s tight grip on Soonyoung’s metal wrist, attempting to loosen his hold on him while Vernon and Jihoon attempted to pull Wonwoo away. Especially the hand that held the knife to the fiend’s throat.

“Let go of him.” Jihoon commanded, while the three men struggled to pull them apart. “Do you think she would be happy with you if you killed him?”

“Yeah, Wonwoo baby.” That smug look was back, but this time there was something sinister and wild to it. He was getting off on this, and it only made Wonwoo’s grip tighten on his knife. “Be a good boy and listen to Jihoonie. Don’t want your princess unhappy with you, do you?”

“Soonyoung shut up, or we will let him kill you and help him lie about what happened to you.” Jihoon scowled, then leaned closer toward Wonwoo. His voice softer in hopes that will help defuse the situation. “Come on, he’s trying to get you to do something stupid. He’s not worth it.”

“Wonwoo…” Mingyu also tried to reason with him, his dark eyes on the older man and were filled with concern.

After a moment, Wonwoo finally pulled the knife away and stepping back while Soonyoung released his grip. The metal claws retracting back to fingers, while his human hand went to his neck to run over the skin where the knife was pressed into him, checking to see if blood was drawn. Only to be disappointed to find that Wonwoo didn’t leave any nicks on him, unable to find a reason to villainize him.

“You should thank her.” Wonwoo told the fiend flatly, more distance created as the two youngest of the group stepped between them. Vernon’s eyes on Soonyoung and Mingyu’s on Wonwoo, both wearing unsure looks on their faces. Neither trusted the fiend or Wonwoo to go back after each other. “If it wasn’t for her, I would have killed you long ago.”

“How generous of you.” Soonyoung was dry with his words, smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt. The claws were completely put away, but his sharp eyes were still wild and shining with dare. Daring Wonwoo to come at him again.

“Enough.” Jihoon demanded, a hiss of pain followed when he took unsteady steps back from the situation. With a hand planted on the desk, the shorter man shifted on his feet to take pressure of his cybernetic leg. “What are you doing here, Soonyoung? We’re not interested in your bullshit today.”

“Jihoonie. My baby, the love of my life, the sparkle to my eye…”

“I am none of those things to you.” Jihoon sneered while Soonyoung clutched his chest as he changed the sweet talk to hurt.

“…You wound my heart. You wound my soul.” Soonyoung let out an over exaggerated wail, and the rest of the men in the room rolled their eyes. When he wasn’t going to get any other reaction out of them, Soonyoung just sighed and crossed his arms. “I came by just to see my favorite boytoy…”

“Not your boytoy.”

“…But I couldn’t help but overhear when opening the door that you guys were talking about Holiday.” The way the fiend’s lip twitched into a smirk, and it was clear that he found a way to take advantage for his own gain. “I think I may have some information that may benefit you.”

“I’m not paying you shit for whatever you have.” Jihoon saw right through him, just like the rest did. Wonwoo found his place back in his chair, more slouched as he glared at the fiend while the two younger went back to their places in the office. Though Mingyu was standing closer toward Soonyoung, ready to grab him if needed. “I don’t have some promise to not kill you going, so you can either tell me, or I’ll shoot you in the shin.”

“That’s one way to get me on my knees for you baby, but for a few credits, I’ll do it without the bullet.” He went to take a step further into the office, but with a sharp nod from Jihoon, he was stopped by Mingyu. Keeping him by the door and acted as the line in the sand.

“Just get with it.” It was Vernon who spoke, perched back on the filing cabinet, and sounding just as fed up the rest of them. “You’re not going to extort us like you do others. With us, aside from wiped boy over here,” He smirked when he earned a dirty look and a finger from Wonwoo, “you’ll either tell us, you keep your mouth shut, or the next parts you get will not be cosmetic.”

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.” Soonyoung scoffed, crossing his arms and rolled his eyes. “Fine…I’ll tell you…”

Growing up, you’d always heard about the Shadow District from the people around you. To the adults in your life, it was seen as a cesspool of filth and crime. They viewed the people who resided there as criminals and low life individuals with no hope or place in their future society. The area was supposedly so bad that not even your mother or the rest of the elites at Skyfall wanted to set foot in or even want to touch.

They viewed it as a lost cause and ordered others around your age to stay away.

To your peers, they had shared the same view as the adults, that only criminals and low lives lived there but that didn’t stop many of them from venturing over. Mostly to buy the drugs that were offer, addicting and fun party favors to take to the parties they would throw in their empty penthouse apartments, try to sneak into the roughest bars and clubs, or whatever else teens did to cause problems. They saw going into the district as a challenge, when really all it was were cries of attention that their parents would never give.

To Soonyoung, the boy whose mom raised you more than your own mother did, it was home. He was the only person you knew that would talk about the Shadow District in a positive light, making sure you knew that was still beauty beyond the stories that others would tell you. That deep past the crime and poverty, it had a community stronger than anywhere else in the city.

People weren’t fake as the ones in West Hills Parkway where you grew up, or any other rich area in Huimang. Good but guarded people, even if many lost their way in their fight to survive because of the elites running the rest of the city. They were all more than just stolen cybernetics, drugs that would numb them enough to live another day or had to break laws to make ends meet.

He would always talk about taking you there, so he could show you that beauty behind the ugly. Even joking that he was sure you would find a sense of belonging there instead of the world you grew up in and was expected to assimilate to what everyone else expected you to be.

Because in the Shadow District, no one expected you to behave a certain way, no one expected you to be perfect there. No one cared enough, because they all had their own shit to worry about. There you could be anyone you wanted, disappear and become a completely different person than who you were. It was a reality you dreamt to be in, no matter how dark it was, and at one point those jokes stopped being just jokes.

So, the first time Soonyoung took you there, you had finally ran away from your old life and a version of you that wasn’t real. You ran away from the expectations that were laid before you, the evils that were behind the closed doors of Skyfall, left behind a last name that never felt was yours, and changing yourself to someone different.

You became someone else, just another soul trying to survive like everyone else around you.

It hadn’t been easy by any means. You weren’t proud of some of the things that you did along the way, having to adapt and change to survive, but you were happier. Eventually you met Wonwoo, someone who wasn’t meant to be anything more than a dick to ride and a bed to sleep in for the night and fell in love. It was still hard, but together you made it work with him giving you love and shelter while you returned that love and made that shelter a place you both could call home.

You lost a lot over the years for your choices, family and friends, but you also gained just as many. You were free to be who you were and free from your mother’s control, her demands. You were struggling, but you were happy.

But that all came crashing down after Soonyoung’s recent visit, pulling out that flicker of fear you hid away by everything else. The fear that Skyfall would decide that the Shadow District and its real estate was worth their attention. Now, you had to face the reality.

The reality that your past is catching up to you, the reality that Wonwoo will learn of the who you used to be and ran from. Find out that you’ve lied to him for so long. It distracted you, it clouded your thoughts, made you keep looking over your shoulder as you walked to work and was late. The night didn’t get any better either.

Chan snapped his fingers to bring you out of your thoughts, bringing back to Cherries’ busy bar and the full tray of drinks waiting for one of your tables. He raised his brow to you, silently questioning where your head was that night, and all you could do was force a smile at him. It was meant to be your way of telling him you were fine, but your lips felt tight over your teeth. You could only hope that he bought it or didn’t care enough to believe it.

The only response you got from Chan was a shrug, moving away from you to tend to the other customers and servers waiting for their drinks. You picked up the full tray of drinks and carefully balanced them as you made your way through the crowded club. Easily maneuvering through the groups of people standing together, too focused on not bumping into anyone and get to the table with their order, so you weren’t paying attention to the faces of the people around you.

So when a hand reached out and caught you by the hip, it startled you and nearly caused you to drop the tray. Rebalancing yourself, you twisted your head where the hand that held onto you came from, a frown playing over your features. The owner was a smug business type at one of the booths, sleek expensive clothes, hair styled back that people like to see as ‘professional’, and the cybernetics weren’t for because he needed it. They purely for aesthetic and status purposes.

Especially with the type of metal that was used, the highest of qualities that was buffed to shine. It would have looked nice with the flashing lights hitting it, had it been on anyone else and they didn’t touch you like you were a toy to grab. With a jerk of your hips, you pulled yourself away from his touch as a sickening feeling crept up you from where his hand was. Like you just touched poison.

“I will be right back with you.” You yelled over the music, taking a step away from the table to your destination when they spoke your name. You froze on the spot.

It wasn’t because he called you by your first name, most of the patrons here knew it. It was the last name. Your old last name. Your mother’s last name.

“It’s you isn’t it?” He had stood from his seat, you felt him take a step toward you and reach for you again.

“No.” You responded, shooting him a dirty look and pushed forward through the crowd. Blood rushed through your ears, not liking that he still had that smug look on his face, a mixture of anger and panic coursing through you.

You don’t recognize him, it had been so long since you’d seen anyone from your past that they all became nothing but blur of faces and metals, so you couldn’t think of his name or what family he was from. Except he recognized you. You were cybernetic free and looked nearly the same as you did when you ran, just older, more mature, and signs of you learning to survive. He recognized you and called you out by your old name.

As you got closer to the table you were serving, you decided that you were going to circle back to the bar from the other side of the club and get one of the other girls to help him and his table. Maybe even avoid this side for the rest of the night.

It all happened quickly after that. You were so lost in your plans that you missed a girl taking a step back, and you collided right into her. The tray full of drinks flew through the air, splashing the people sitting at the table and everyone standing around them while you landed on the ground with a thud.

The girl who had tripped you was quick to help you up, apologizing to you as you apologized profusely to the people at the table. Your hands moved quickly to grab all the spilled glasses and rush to the bar to get towels from Chan; who was already had a stack of small of them on the bar to help clean up. His expression unreadable, with a new set of glasses already out so he could remake their drinks.

You cleaned up the mess the best you could and was able to get the new drinks to them, while Seungkwan, your manager, tried to placate one of the girls in the group. She was the only one who didn’t get hit with alcohol, but she made a fuss and complained to him about you. Not giving a single damn if she was being truthful or that you were still standing there.

“Go get some air,” Seungkwan spoke to you at one point, cutting off the girl to do so and she looked like she was ready to explode. “I will talk to you when I am done here.”

With a solemn nod, you turned to head to the back of the club. With a glance toward the bar, you saw Chan give you a sympathetic look but was quick to return back to his job, so he wasn’t joining you in getting yelled at. You couldn’t blame him for that, because you didn’t want to be in this position either.

The back of the club was a private alley, one that was fenced off by Cherries’ owner Seungcheol so that not only was there no issues with inventory deliveries, but so his staff had somewhere to hide away. It stopped them from being harassed when they would go smoke or be able to take a breather away from a busy night. It was the only club in the area that did this, and you were grateful that you worked there and not anywhere else.

The cool night air felt like a relief to your hot and sweat covered skin, instantly relaxing you as you breathed in the smell of rain and a permanent smell of oil. It grounded you, giving you the chance to center yourself and remind yourself that you were better than this.

The sound of the back door opening caused you to twist around as Seungkwan walked out with a cigarette in his hand. Leaning against the wall, he took his time lighting the wrapped tobacco and let the heavy door shut before speaking.

“You going to tell me what happened in there?” He asked, blowing a cloud of smoke in the air before his tongue pressed against his cheek, and the brief respite you had was taken away. “I had to comp two rounds of drinks just now, and not to mention, Chan has been saying you been acting strange all night.” He took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes narrowed. “Are you on something?”

“What? No, of course not.” You answered tensely, not liking that he accused you of that. “I just have a lot on my mind. I wasn’t paying attention as well as I should have.” Looking down at your hands, purposely leaving out your encounter with the nameless guy. No one here knew you by that name, and you couldn’t afford it getting out. “I’m sorry. I will do better.”

There was a beat of silence, and you cast your gaze nervously up toward Seungkwan, only to see his eyes were on his cigarette and not you, his expression hard to read. Which made your stomach churn uncomfortably since your manager was an expressive man, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. He made sure that he said what was on his mind, even if it got him in trouble or hurt someone’s feelings.

“Listen…” He finally spoke as he blew out another cloud of smoke then licked his lips. “The first rule at Cherries is plain and simple, whatever shit you have going on in your life is left at the door. You’re here to work, not fucking worry about shit that has nothing to do with this place.”

“I know, Kwan. I am…”

“Sorry. Yeah, I know. You guys always are.” A scoff left him as he said this, taking a final drag of his cigarette then dropped it into a small rain puddle next to him. “You’re paying for all the drinks I had to comp tonight, Chan's tallying it all up now and will be taking it from your tips and earnings tonight.”

Hearing these words made you feel sick, that churning turned sour and felt like bile was already creeping up. After Soonyoung’s blackmail, you couldn’t have this happen since those credits you just lost was needed to recover that loss and for rent. You couldn’t afford to lose another credit, not when you weren’t sure what the payoff was for the job Jihoon had Wonwoo doing.

And you refused to touch that account your mother had for you.

“Understood.” You told him after a long moment of silence on your part, forced to accept this fate of yours. There was no point in arguing with Seungkwan without giving too much away, without giving yourself away. You were in a lose/lose situation here.

“I know that it seems unfair, but you got lucky here since we have fired others for less.” Seungkwan went to grab the door handle to go back inside, before stopping and looking at you with a resigned expression. “Guess is pays that Cheol has a soft spot for Wonwoo, or you wouldn’t just be paying for those drinks, you’d be looking for another job. Take a few minutes to get your head right and then get back in here. We need you tonight, or I would’ve sent your ass home.”

With that, he disappeared through the large metal door. His words echoed through your brain, the contempt he had when he mentioned your boyfriend’s name and his pull with the Cherries’ owner. And by proxy you as well.

You took that few minutes before returning to your job and managed to finish the night with no further mistakes, but you were not able to push your thoughts away. After what happened that night, that nameless guy who knew you by your old name, and Skyfall Industries finally deciding that the Shadow District was worthy for their development, you couldn’t ignore the crushing realization that the two worlds you knew were colliding.

It was early in the morning when you got home and was surprised to see Wonwoo already up and in the kitchen making coffee. With his hair sticking up in different directions, one eye barely open while the other stayed shut, his face still had the indents of his pillow, and sleep still heavy on him. He wasn't in anything more than a pair of dark grey boxers, giving you a perfect view of the rest of his body.

A lean muscular frame with naturally broad shoulders, long legs, and strong arms that was normally hidden away by dark heavy clothes due to the scars that littered on different places on his body. Old wounds from fights he got into over the years, from the accident that caused him to lose his left eye, and from other stupid shit he did. You were seeing one of the barest version of him, a version that only you see, and it was your favorite.

When he looked at you, it made your heart squeeze when a sleepy smile broke across his lips, and a hand reach out to you. One that you reached for without hesitation, your body moving without needing to think too much about it, just ready to be in his presence.

"Hey baby." His voice was rough, his fingers interlocking with yours to pull you into him, before his lips found the top of your head. Pressing them against your hair, before breathing you in. "You smell good."

"I smell gross." You giggle softly, tilting your head so that his lips could find yours. The soft press of his lips helped loosen some of the tension that was clinging to you, but not enough to help you forget. You still had to tell him about that you lose money instead of bringing any home.

"I don't think so." He shook his head, before pressed another kiss to your lips. When he pulled away, his brows then furrowed when he saw your face. "What's wrong? Did something happen at work?"

"Just had a shitty night. Spilled a tray of alcohol all over a table full of people, and Seungkwan was not happy because he had to comp two rounds of drinks." You answered with a small voice and attempted to turn away from him but one of his hands grasped your face to stop you. It hurt to see that smile gone, and concern shine through his eye. "I ended up having to pay for the drinks that we lost today and was told I am lucky that I wasn’t fired." You let out a shaky sigh, "We needed those credits."

You earned silence from your boyfriend, the frown deepened and his eye stayed on you. The sleep that was still clinging to him when you walked in gone, with only the physical signs left. The arm that was wrapped possessively around your waist had tightened, pressing you more against his near bare frame, while the hand on your face held you there. His expression was dark, and it made you slightly nervous.

"I'm sorry…" Your voice sounded small, and this earned a dark laugh from Wonwoo, his thumb brushing against your cheek affectionately. "I'll talk to Seungcheol when he's in next and see if I can get an extra shift to make up for what I lost today."

"Don't worry about it. Shit happens." Wonwoo shook his head, though his expression didn’t changed and his tone was sharper. You knew that he was pissed with you, it wasn't hard to read him when he was like this, but he was holding himself back.

A fight wasn’t something either of you needed, and it left a heavy tension between you both. You avoided his gaze that was searching your face, threatening to pull your secrets that now lingered under the surface than buried deep without the help of his eye. With one look, he would know everything you hid from him, and you would lose everything. You couldn’t have that.

“I love you.” You finally said after a long beat of silence, your fingers brushing against the back of the hand that held your face as you pressed yourself against him. Your eyes flicked up toward his, wanting to be sure that he saw the tip of your tongue run over your bottom lip before you leaned forward to kiss the curve of his collarbone.

“I love you too, but what’s going on? You haven’t—fuck.” A soft groan left him when your mouth moved to his neck, kissing the kiss as your free hand moved down between you. Your hand slid over the fabric of his underwear, cupping his hardened cock through the thin material.

You weren't proud of what you were doing, but it was the only way to distract him. You weren't ready for it all to come out. You weren't ready for him to walk away and hate you.

"Everything is fine, don’t worry." You lied, grateful that he didn't have his left eye in, or he would’ve seen right through you, and used it to your advantage, pulling from his hold to move your mouth over his chest. You earned a moan from him when your teeth grazed his skin, massaging the twitching bulge with your hand, and gave the thick member a gentle squeeze.

"Don't… ah… think I don't know what you're doing." Wonwoo managed to get out with effort, his right eye watching as you slipped down onto your knees. Not caring that you were still in the deep red dress that you had worn that night for work, because you were on a mission. You left a reminder of yourself on his hip, fingers hooking the band of his underwear to pull down. Freeing his cock from its confides.

You chose to not respond, your thighs pressed together at the sight of him, so easily ready for you. His fingers brushed against your hairline, and you looked up to him while your own wrapped around his length, catching the way his face contorted in pleasure when you tentatively stroked him. Mouth slightly opened, with breathy moans escaped while he tried to keep his one eye open to take in the way you looked for him.

Wonwoo went to speak you name in a stern voice, but it was lost when your mouth brushed the tip of his cock before planting an open mouth kiss on it. Pulling back, you gathered some spit in your mouth to dribble it onto his length, coating it with your hand so it easier to stroke what you couldn't fit into your mouth.

The hand that had been brushing your hairline now was going to grip at your hair when you finally took him between your lips, taking nearly half of him in one go and ignored the need to gag when it hit the back of your throat. Wonwoo's head dropped back, no longer concerned over anything exchanged between the two of you, already lost in you. Too lost in the wet heat of your mouth and your tongue pressed against his underneath.

Your hand moved in sync of your mouth, at a pace that he liked, and took him as far down your throat as you could go. It left your boyfriend a mess before you, his grip on your hair tightened but wouldn't take control. The sight of him from this angle made you clench around nothing, your already wet underwear stick to your cunt uncomfortably. To relief the feeling, you slipped a free hand between your thighs.

The feeling of your touch over the covered heat caused you do a quick inhale through your nose that was followed by a whimper. The sound made Wonwoo's head to snap forward, prying open his eye to take in the sight of you. Your mouth stretched over his cock, lips red, and eyes glossed over. Your red dress pushed up your hips and giving him view of one of your hands between your legs, touching yourself while you pleasured him.

The sight made him twitch in your mouth, and found himself quickly near the edge, but Wonwoo was a greedy man. He wanted his as well as yours and watching as you touched yourself as you worked to give him his own was not enough. He needed to feel it himself, he felt like a fiend needing their fix.

With a firm tug of your hair, Wonwoo pulled you off his cock, a groan left his lips when he saw a string of spit trail from your mouth to his cock.

"Get up." He commanded, releasing your hair to help you stand. His own hands rough as he moved you how he wanted you, and you let him. Loving the way he would handle you and took control.

The smell of coffee and sex filled the small apartment as you rested your arms onto the kitchen counter while Wonwoo took his place behind you. He pushed the dress up so that it was now at your waist, and your ruined underwear pulled down. The cook air of the apartment had sent shivers through you when it meat your wet head, leaving you to be the one whimpering.

"Wonwoo…" You weren't sure what you were going to say after this, his name felt right on your tongue in that moment. Especially when you felt the thick head of his cock tease your wet slit, catching your opening just right and you attempted to push your hips back. "Please."

"You know, I have to leave soon…" The words were slightly muffled, Wonwoo's mouth pressed against your shoulder. He continued to tease you, knowing that it would make you lose your mind. "I am supposed to meet Vernon out on the dock today." You found it funny that he said this while he took his time, wording it like it's your fault. It was, but you only intended to suck him off. "Good thing that fucking prick is always late."

You went to respond, only for your mouth to drop when he sunk his teeth into your shoulder and filled you completely in one thrust. It made your eyes roll, the stretch was enough to numb your own mind of everything that was playing in it. This may have started to distract him, but the way he filled you and the way his body enveloped you, maybe you needed this yourself.

Wonwoo didn't stay still too long, pulling back until he was only half out, before snapping his hips forward. The force of the thrust jerked you into the counter, causing your grip to tighten on the counter’s edge to steady yourself. A soft cry left you as you attempted to meet his thrusts but his grip on your hips stopped you. It left you to take what he gave you.

His breath hot against your shoulder as he fucked you in the middle of your shared kitchen, each thrust felt rougher than the last. Filling the apartment with the sounds of skin slapping, the moans that left you both, and the slick sounds of his cock plunging into your cunt. Every time you squeezed around him a string of curses left him, loosening his grip on your hips enough to adjust and pulled you to an upright position.

Your back pressed against his chest, while his mouth was on your neck, running his tongue over the sweat that was starting to collect from your activities. His hands roamed your body as one of your own reached back to grab his hair, trying to find an anchor at the new angle of his thrusts. No longer was he the only mess in this, you were too.

"Wonwoo." You whimpered out his name, with tears pricking at your eyes at the feeling your release almost within reach. Slipping a hand between your legs, you started to desperately rubbing your clit to help him push you over.

Your release hit you harder than you expected, your knees nearly buckled and was more than grateful that you were being held up in that moment. Wonwoo's release quickly followed with a low groan in your ear, and kept you anchored against him. Your breathing labored as you came down from your highs.

Dropping your head back against his shoulder, your boyfriend pressed a kiss to your temple.

"Don't worry too much about the money right now," He murmured against your skin, pulling out of you after a few moments and turned you to face him. Skin flushed, sweat falling from his brow, breathing came out in slight pants, as he looked at you with one eye. "This job that Jihoon is having us do will bring in a decent amount of credits each and bring more parts to the district." He smiled softly. "It'll be enough to keep us comfortable for a while, and maybe even enough to get you, me, and Doodle out of the city. Start over somewhere new."

It was something he always said when Jihoon had him do a job, it was a promise that he kept trying to speak into fruition. It would bring you hope every time he would say it, but this time, it only brought back that uncomfortable twist in your stomach.

“I don’t see why we’re still trying to do this job.” Vernon muttered, blowing smoke from his cigarette, and looked like he wanted to be anywhere but at the dock with Wonwoo. The two had been tasked to stake out the Factory and report back to Jihoon, “Look at the fucking place. Covered in guards that look more like cyborgs than human. What the fuck do they have that needs that much security?”

“Whatever was in those boxes.” Wonwoo answered, declining the pack of cigarettes the younger had offered him. He was tempted, but he didn’t want to pull his mask down as his eyes stayed trained on the building. His eye flickered every so often as he took photos of the large warehouse and the guards that patrolled it, while making sure to notes any patterns he caught. “Jihoon wants us to get photos and videos of everything.”

“Better be so that he can demand more credits if they really want us to do this.” Vernon scoffed as a set of cars pulled up to the Factory’s entrance. Sleek vehicles that screamed status and money. “Hazard pay or whatever the fuck it’s called.”

“That and he’s brought the Angel in to help. If these guards are more parts than human, then we’ll need his help and insight on this.”

“We’re definitely fucked if he had to bring that asshole in.” Vernon grumbled as he pulled his beanie further onto his head and Wonwoo let out a huff of a laugh. They watched one of the car doors open so a woman could get out.

She was older, dark red suit, hair perfectly styled, and a heavy aura of power that clung to her like a second skin. It was clear she was someone important as she was greeted by one of the guards, something that he made sure to note. Then she briefly looked in their direction, and Wonwoo felt a sudden familiarity to her.

The woman was then joined by two more men from the other car, all talking with the guard before making their way into the building. Not before Wonwoo’s eye was able to zoom in and get some photos of all of them. Included in them was a good shot of the woman’s face, and it was then he started to realize that she looked like you, but an older version. There was subtle differences, but it was like he was seeing you over twenty years in the future.

“That woman looks like Y/N.” Vernon pointed out, not looking in Wonwoo’s direction to see that he was having a moment himself. “But like older, richer, and probably a bigger bitch.” The older man shot him a look that Vernon caught. “What? I ain’t saying she’s a bitch all the time, but the girl bites.”

“Don’t I know it.” Wonwoo answered, the photo of the woman still on the screen of his eye. Analyzing her features and matching them to  you with something unsettling in his stomach. He had known you weren’t a native to the Shadow District when he met you, but he remembered you  telling him that you had no family and the closest to family you had was Soonyoung.

He didn’t have a reason to not believe you, it was just sex. It wasn’t important at the time, and the subject of your family had been a sore spot for you. Now looking at this woman, her likeness to you, it made him wonder if you had lied to him.

“How much longer do we have to be here?” Vernon’s bored tone tore Wonwoo from his thoughts, as well as his attention from the building to look in his direction to see he had lit another cigarette.

“I’m sorry, but do you have some other plans that you need to get to?” The words came out harsher than he intended, which earned a sneer from Vernon. “You haven’t shut the fuck up since we got here.”

“Well seeing as this shit keeps getting more complicated, not to mention the looming reality that Skyfall is kicking people out of their homes for whatever ‘redevelopment’ bullshit they have going on. I would say that my bitching and lack of wanting to be on a fucking suicide mission is reasonable.” Vernon waved his hand toward Wonwoo. “I honestly don’t see what this is supposed to accomplish having us fucking sit here? This place fucking stinks of fish and oil, and all that’s going on is you’re taking pictures with that fuck ass eye of yours.” The laugh that left him was bitter. “This surveillance we are doing isn’t going to do shit for us when those fucking things are guarding this shit.”

“Jihoon isn’t holding a gun to your head to do this, you know that right? You don’t have to be part of this.”

“Nah, I rather get the credits.” This answer made Wonwoo roll his eyes, before shaking his head. “I am going to take off though. This shit doesn’t need both of us.” Vernon then pushed off the set of boxes they’d been perched on since early that morning and gave him a nod. “I’d say it was a pleasure, but you annoy the shit out of me, so bye.”

“Yeah, go fuck yourself.” Despite the harsh words, the two did a weird handshake before Vernon was gone. Leaving Wonwoo to finish getting a few more shots and videos, and when he looked back to the building, he caught the woman had excited to go back to her car. As if she was able to feel his eyes on her, she looked in his direction and made eye contact with him.

Wonwoo had his face hidden pretty well, with a mask covering most of his face and his glasses covering the other half. His beanie and thick hood covered his hair, so she had no idea what he looked like, but it didn’t feel that way with the way she looked at him. Like she knew exactly who he was.

He didn’t look away either, taking several more photos of her with his eyes; ones of her head on. No longer caring what he was there for as the realization that she was someone to you, and from the similarities, family, hit him hard.

She then smirked at him before she slipped into the back of the car, letting the driver close the door behind her. Wonwoo didn’t move, catching images of the plates of as the vehicle left the docks.

 Several blocks from the docks, you couldn’t sleep no matter how hard you tried. After sex with Wonwoo didn’t work, you tried to take a hot shower, drank some tea that you were saving, read, laid in silence, laid with a window open so you could hear the street below, but sleep still didn’t happen. You ended up giving up and found yourself on the sofa, wrapped up in your boyfriend’s clothes that smelled like him, and Doodle laid on your lap purring softly.

The comforting feeling of his Wonwoo’s clothes, his smell, and the soft purrs of your pet grounded you, but it didn’t settle anything. You weren’t sure if you wanted to scream and cry in despair and worry or throw and punch things in anger and rage. Nor were you sure where to direct it all.

At life. At your mother and Skyfall Industries. Or at yourself for making this worse by keeping this secret from Wonwoo as long as you did.

The knock at the door and Doodle rushing off the sofa in a panic startled you. The feline stopped once one the floor to look at the door, her eyes wide and pupils dilated in fear before disappearing when another knock came. Her reaction was unusual and didn’t sit right with you as you slipped off the sofa.

When you reached the door, you cautiously looked through the peephole to see who was there, and your mouth went dry. Standing there was a woman with an annoyed and mildly disgusted look on her face and looked like she would rather be anywhere else. The sight of her stirred emotions that you remembered feeling every day growing up.

“I would recommend opening up.” She sighed as she adjusted her expensive designer bag onto her other arm. “I know you are there, and this is no way to treat your mother after all these years.” You didn’t move, or say anything in response, that earned another sigh from her as she spoke your name. “I think it would be wise to open this door, or I will have my men pick up that boyfriend of yours for sniffing around the Factory.”

She knew that would get what she wanted when you ripped open the door with a snarl to your lips.

“You touch him, and I will kill you without a second though.” You seethed to your uncaring mother, who just laughed and shook her head. “What do you want?”

“I wasn’t going to be in the area and pass up a chance to see my daughter.” She pushed past you, her shoulder bumping against yours while she took in the sight of the small apartment. Her eyes moved from the old furniture to the run down cat tree in one corner of the living room, then to the small kitchen that had a few dishes in the sink before they landed on you. The look on her face the same judgmental one that you knew all too well. “I can see that you are putting your monthly allowance to good use.”

“We both know I don’t touch those credits. I don’t need them.”

“Oh, I am aware and sure you don’t.” She waved you off, stopping herself from setting her bag down at the sight of Doodle’s cat hair. “This place screams it.”

“You’re not welcomed here.” You crossed your arms as you said this to her, trying to not visibly flinch when her sharp gaze turned on you. A look that reduced you back to that child she never thought was good enough. “Not in the Shadow District, and sure as hell not in my apartment.”

“Skyfall Industries owns the entire city, foolish girl. And as a member of the board of directors, I am welcome wherever I so please. And that includes…” Your mother then gestured toward the apartment, gold cybernetic metal shining in the low light of your apartment. “…your apartment.”

“Get the fuck out.” You snapped right before her hand connected with your cheek and your head jerked to the side. The metal on her hand sliced your cheek deep, drawing blood and a bruise was quick to follow.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that.” The older woman hissed, her anger turning palatable when you didn’t move for a moment. Your eyes closed as you slowly breathed through your nose, trying to control the familiar shake that would come with this. That anger and fear toward this woman mixing inside you.

Fear tried to reduce you back to that girl that she once controlled near perfectly, and the anger reminded you of the person you had to become because of that control.

“Why are you even here?” You asked coldly. The question was simple as you turned to look at her again, your hand slow to pull the hair that was stuck to the blood on your face. “Thought no one wanted to touch the Shadow District. It didn’t fit your project model for a perfect city. Needing a place to house the lower classes that would bring you your precious cybernetics.”

“You are such a stupid child.” She didn’t seem to care that your expression was dark and cold, or that you refused to wipe away the blood from your cut cheek. A dark bruise quickly formed around it from the force of the slap. Your fists clenched, with your anger started to take over and you had to fight to contain it. “It was always in the plan, it was always going to be redeveloped, but considering that I’m a generous mother…”

“To who?” You asked, your words venom, but she ignored you.

“I managed to keep the project at bay so you could have your little rebellious phase, let you playhouse with this one eye criminal before you finally came home and this place is bulldozed to the ground.” It was then that she reached out and cupped the cheek that she didn’t strike, a soft smile playing over her lips. It was meant to be loving, and if you were still that little girl, you’d be tricked by it like always. “I held it off as long as I could but not only is this disgusting stain on the city getting the makeover it desperately needs. I finally can bring you back home.”

“Had it ever occurred to you that I don’t want to go back? That my real phase was trying to be that perfect model child for you all those years, willing to do anything to earn your love, or your approval.” Your words caused that fake smile to crack, her hand dropping when you recoiled from her touch. “I am home, mom. This is my home, and that one eyed criminal is my family and have been for years. We actually love each other.”

“He loves the lie that you fed him.” She responded, making you look at her in shock and confusion. “You think I don’t know? You don’t think that I don’t know that you been lying to him about who you are and where you came from? Buried me with your father.”

“Don’t you dare bring Dad into this.”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, or act like this life is so much better when it’s built on a lie.” Your mother smile then turned dangerous, and that left you rooted to the spot. “I thought I taught you better than this and actually feel bad for the pathetic fool.”

You watched as she opened a purse and pulled out an envelope. You knew what was inside it, an eviction notice.

“It’s time to end this foolishness and come back home. Your position is still waiting for you at Skyfall, and I have a lovely gentleman who is willing to look passed the… things you did while out here.” Her voice was smug as you took the envelope from her and she gestured to the apartment then to your appearance. Wonwoo’s clothes, hair a mess, dark circles under your eyes, and the bruise she gave you. Your hand was still wrapped from when you cut it and trembled holding the envelope. “I mean, it’ll be the only place you will have to go in thirty days. Which is more than what the rest of these people are being given.”

“You’re not getting the Shadow District.” You told her with confidence. The laugh that left her would have left you terrified years ago, but now it only fueled the anger inside you. “We won’t let you.”

“Who is this we? You? Your boyfriend and that little gang he’s part of? That fiend that fed your head with all that nonsense?” Smoothing out her suit, your mother regarded you. “You don’t have a choice in this matter. It’s time to wake up and face reality, stupid girl. Your time for fun is up.”

“We aren’t going down without a fight.”

“Of course you will.” Her shoulder hit yours as she passed and made her way toward the apartment door. “It’s evitable. Just like your place at Skyfall with me.”

“I rather die than go back to any kind of life with you.” You yelled as your turned toward her and the door, only for your whole body to freeze. Because standing at the doorway was Wonwoo. His face was still covered so you could not see his expression, but by his posture, he had heard it all.

“Looks like I should be expecting you back sooner.” Her satisfactory tone in her voice made you feel sick and that anger building turned to deep rage.

You lunged toward her, a high pitch angry cry ripping through you, but Wonwoo was already there to pull you back. Holding you to him as you thrashed in his arms, wanting to wrap your hands around your mother’s throat.

With a final look of satisfaction, your mother clothes the door behind her. Leaving you to continue to struggle to free yourself from your boyfriend’s arms, the tears that had been burning behind your eyes finally broke through.

Your mother was sorely mistaken if she thought she could snap her fingers and you would fall in line easily. You weren’t the same person as you were all those years ago, and you weren’t going to leave Wonwoo or the life you had.

And you sure as hell won’t let them take the Shadow District.

it has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly’s wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world. - chaos theory

"THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT IS A PRINCIPLE IN CHAOS THEORY THAT STATES THAT SMALL, SEEMINGLY INSIGNIFICANT CHANGES IN INITIAL CONDITIONS CAN TRIGGER MASSIVE, UNPREDICTABLE, AND VASTLY DIFFERENT OUTCOMES IN COMPLEX SYSTEMS-"

Mingyu knows what the butterfly effect is. In fact, the exact audio recording playing on loop throughout the penthouse apartment is the same audio that's been haunting his dreams and the moments of almost sleep he's been having at his desk while filling out piles and piles of paperwork at the station.

Now, the audio is playing again at the third crime scene in as many months, and he's had it.

"Turn that shit off," he barks, walking through the flickering holograph of the caution barrier. His legs disrupt the light only for a second, shadows bounding off the walls as he enters the main living area. "I'm tired of hearing about the fucking butterfly effect."

He was tired of researching it, too. Researching why a serial killer would leave the same recording playing at each crime scene over and over again, researching what the murders could possibly have to do with one another. So far, the first five victims have no connection to one another, nothing that clues Mingyu into what's going on beyond the same audio on loop. He doesn't expect this sixth victim will have any connection to their predecessors, but he has to try.

A grisly scene paints the penthouse. It's a nicer home than anything Mingyu will ever afford with floor-to-cieling windows that overlook the neon smear of the city. Rain blurs against the glass, turning the glow beyond to a muted opaque color that clashes with the bright caution banners and the lights of the investigative unit called to the scene.

The penthouse reeks of the metallic tang of blood and the faint tang of the chemicals the collection team uses to take samples all around the apartment. The victim lies splayed across the massive obsidian coffee table in the main entertainment area, arms and legs extended at unnatural angles. It's a male body, the torso filleted open from sternum to pelvis with surgical precision, the ribs cracked outward like grotesque wings.

Mingyu has seen five of these now. Each one has been more elaborate than the last. Each one leaves him with the same hollow frustrating gnawing at his gut.

"Lee," he barks at the lead forensic tech hovering nearby. "Anything different this time? Prints? Core signature? A confession, perhaps?"

Chan shakes his head, his rain-slicked jacket shedding beads of water onto the floor. "Same as the others. No prints, and the audio rig is the same ghost job as the last. The victim owns the building, his name is Harlan Voss. He got a new Skin a few weeks ago at Sync Corp. Nice model, nothing too extreme."

Mingyu crouches beside the table, his boots squelching in the thin layer of blood that has spread across the marble. Through the windows, the city pulses below, bright signs for body rental shops and upgrade clinics flashing in the downpour. Towering buildings disappear into the clouds, connected by old elevated trains that rattle in the distance.

Mingyu looks at the body. Chan had said the Skin upgrade was nothing too extreme, but in a world where people swap bodies regularly, the word extreme has lost most of its value, especially for people like Harlan Voss who are wealthy enough to transfer the Core implanted in their brain stem to a new body anytime they want.

It makes permanent death uncommon for people of this caliber. Mingyu tilts his head to the side, examining the back of Harlan's neck where his Core is. Like the others, it's damaged, which means Harlan is dead dead. No transferring his Core to a new body after the death of this one, no regeneration.

It unsettles something deep in Mingyu like satisfaction, and he pushes it down. He has no time to be disgusted by the Skin jumping of the wealthy while the people below scrap together money to upgrade their Skins to something new or broken just for the prestige of doing it.

Mingyu pushes up to his feet, joints popping and back aching. He groans - unlike the dead victim in front of him, he can't pay to have the tiny device buried in his neck to be transferred to some upgraded flashy skin. One would assume that as law enforcement, he'd get some kind of special discount or offers to enhance his speed, strength or something, but Mingyu has quickly learned that only the wealthy benefit from anything in this city.

He looks around the room slowly, eyes scanning for anything out of place. A broken glass on the bar counter. A half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey tipped over, mixing with the blood into a pink mess. Framed pictures on the walls show vacation spots in brighter cities, the kind most people only see in ads. One frame lies smashed on the floor, exposing basic wiring behind the fancy cover. Typical rich place that looks expensive on top but cheap underneath.

"Why butterflies?" Mingyu mutters to himself. "Chaos theory. One small change leads to big results. Like a butterfly flapping its wings and starting a storm somewhere else."

The killer isn't hiding the message. Each killing has happened once a month - not on a perfect timing, but approximate. Each scene is bigger - more wing shapes, more lights, the same audio. But the victims are never the same and thus far, there's no link between them. No shared friends, no common jobs, nothing on the basic records. A nobody found in a cheap rental unit. An escort pulled from a job. Nothing ties them together except this ritual.

But Mingyu doesn't know what this ritual is.

Frustration burns in his chest. Five months of this, nights bleeding into days at the station, staring at paper files and holoscreens while rain water leaks onto his desk. His own body feels worn out - aches deep in his joints, eyes burning constantly from lack of sleep. Unlike the dead man in front of him, Mingyu can't afford a new Skin on a detective's pay.

"Detective Kim?" Chan calls, voice unsure. Mingyu spins on his heel to find Chan crouched by the body, holding a small device in his hand near the core in the victim's neck. "I think the core is damaged but not dead."

"What?"

Mingyu strides over, his long legs making it easy. Chan crouches lower, the glasses on his face sliding down his sweaty nose. Mingyu leans over, tilting his head as Chan gently nudges the victim's head to turn it more. The Core is exposed to the elements and cut, like the attacker had been cutting it out to kill it, but as it catches the light, there's a small blip of cyan along the side, flickering as it tries to regain connectivity.

"Holy shit," Mingyu whispers. "If it's still alive, can you re-gen this guy?"

"Maybe, but it's potentially damaged enough that he would come back with high-level personality disorders or other cognitive issues. We might be able to repair enough to access memory or information, though." Chan hesitates. "Legal might get involved. If he's got family or others left behind, they might demand the Core be delivered to them to figure out what to do with it or refuse access to us."

Mingyu's hums, thoughtful. The possibility of interference is higher than he'd like to admit. In the few cases that Mingyu has dealt with the elite, their spouses or family left behind have always been nearly impossible in active investigations. He's since learned that those who sit in gilded glass towers have more to hide than the criminals crawling on the ground, and they'd rather a case go cold than unearth their secrets.

"Are we required to notify them?" Mingyu asks, glancing at Chan.

"Yes?"

"What if we only found it was discovered functional later in a proper autopsy."

Chan looks uncomfortable for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. That would make sense."

"Autopsies get delayed, right?" Chan sighs and Mingyu grins, slapping him on the back as he stands again. "Glad we understand each other, Lee. Take care of this while I walk around the area, yeah?"

"Yes, Detective."

Mingyu leaves the apartment and takes the stairs instead of the elevator, his knees protesting with each step. The exercise feels good though, so he jogs down the winding stairs, mind racing. By the time he reaches the ground level, he's sore and his heart is pounding, both reminders that he's human and that he's in his natural body, two things he's grown to be proud of.

The lobby is sleek, made up of polished obsidian and soft blue recessed lighting. Mingyu strolls through the automatic doors, the air locks hissing as he lets himself out into the rain, shoes tapping wetly on the pavement.

Reaching into his pocket, he fishes out a cigarette - an ancient, old world habit in comparison to the sleek vapes most people use - and sticks it between his lips, digging around his pocket for a lighter. He finds it and flicks it, the orange flame licking upward as he lights the cigarette, taking a brief drag. The flame catches and he flicks it shut, taking a heavy drag and lets the smoke settle in his lungs before he exhales into the neon smear of rain.

The street level is quieter this time of night, most of the storefronts closed, their holographic signs still flickering anyway. The street is full of advertising and marketing for Skin modification services, Core implant repairs, temporary Skin rentals for people too poor to own one permanently but desperate enough to spend a night as someone else.

Neon bleeds across the wet pavement in streaks of magenta and cyan, reflecting off the rain to create a blurry kaleidoscope of light that makes Mingyu's eyes water as he takes another drag, flicking ash into a puddle where it melts.

He walks, letting his feet guide him around the perimeter of the building, cool raing tapping down on his head and neck like soft fingers. He doesn't bother with an umbrella, the rain sliding off his jacket as he examines the exterior, cigarette wedged between his lips.

The neighborhood is a mix of high-rises towering over strip malls, luxury boutiques selling pricey mods next to hole-in-the-wall clinics offering illegal and questionable upgrades. It's one of common liminal spaces in the city where the almost wealthy clash with the lower glass, each fighting for dominance on the ground while the megaliths of the city exist in their towers far above.

Mingyu wonders what the rest of them look like from on high. He imagines that they can't even see people like him, rotting beneath the clouds and scurrying around like ants beneath a boot that's constantly waiting to step on them. Mingyu has been stepped on plenty of times, but he hasn't died yet and he doesn't plan on it now, heading to the back alleyway behind the building.

Dumpsters filled with broken tech litter the alleyway, but Mingyu pauses when he sees a bunch of old, rotted Skins. He lifts his arm, covering his face with it to ward off the smell. Skins are still bodies - they're still organic material like any other living organism, and they break down the same way. Seeing tossed Skins isn't uncommon, especially near body-mod shops, but Mingyu is unsettled to see them just tossed, flies buzzing around them.

Pulling out his phone, he dials Chan up stairs. "Send a team down to the back alley, there's discarded Skins. None of them look fresh or functional, but maybe our killer tosses theirs."

"On it."

"Also have someone dispose of these before someone wanders around and tries to take them. They're rotted beyond use, the last thing we need is some kind of infection going around because people are re-genning bad Skins."

"Understood."

Mingyu hangs up the phone and takes the final drag of his cigarette before flicking it toward the dumpster. He continues on his way, searching - for what he doesn't know. Something. Anything. He just wants to find something to help him unravel the mystery upstairs, something he's missed previously.

As always, he finds nothing except the smell of wet concrete and biological decay, the distant hum of an elevated train line cutting through the noise somewhere. He circles back to the front of the building and finds himself looking upward. The building is a vertical monument to wealth that juts up into the rain-soaked sky, but it's got nothing on the monstrosities the corporation owners and mega-rich of the city live in.

The rain grows heavier, coming down in sheets. Mingyu slips under the overhang in front of the building, watching as the world vanishes to a blur of light behind the rain. From here, he knows the city by heart - it spreads out in layers, the commercial district with aggressive neon signage, the old industrial zones still smoking from plants that are ready to collapse any minute, and beyond, the entertainment and wealthy districts.

Trains arc across the space between buildings while autonomous vehicles move through the streets in perfect formation, headlights occasionally cutting through the dark toward him as they pass by the building.

They city pulses on despite the death upstairs, the desperation and money and excess and filth all tangled together, and somewhere in it, is the person Mingyu is hunting, the butterfly that haunts his dreams and all of the hours in between.

Mingyu sighs, jaw clenched as he watches the rain, the same words on loop in his head: The butterfly effect is a principle chaos theory that states that small, seemingly insignificant changes in initial conditions can trigger massive, unpredictable, and vastly different outcomes in complex systems.

-

 Mingyu stares at the six projected faces in front of him, the cyan of the holoscreen only broken up by the flicker as he switches from viewing all six of them at once to one at a time. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzes, glitching for a moment as it threatens to go out. It's been dying for three weeks now, humming like an insect trapped in a glass. No one has bothered to fix it, of course. The maintenance budget at the precinct is nonexistent, most of the funding funnelling into the new autonomous patrol units they send to patrol through the wealthy districts.

Down here in the bowels of the city, everything is falling apart. Water drips from a crack in the ceiling two desks over, landing in the metal track can with a constant metal drip that drives Mingyu nuts. The air smells like mildew and stale air undercut by the burnt coffee that tastes like battery acid every time he takes a sip. He drinks it out of a chipped mug anyway, needing the extra jolt of energy and unwilling to take any of the stimulants or quick fixes the young deputies prefer.

Mingyu's fingers drum on his mug to the rhythm of the dripping. He cannot unstick his thoughts from the six victims over six months, struggling to find the connection. He drags his finger across the holoscreen to pull up the first victim's file again, despite having read it a million times. The first victim is a male nobody, found in a cheap Skin rental unit in the lower districts, his body laid out with the same surgical precision and same butterfly effect audio playing on loop. The victim had no family, no friends, and the damaged Core had said unclaimed in evidence for two weeks unclaimed and uncared for before being incinerated per protocol.

Sighing, he swipes to the second victim, a female escort pulled from a job in the entertainment district. She'd been with a wealthy client a few hours prior, but the client had a clean alibi and had no problem letting them scan his Core for memories of the entire night. The escorts Core, like the first victim, had been damaged beyond recovery, just like the first, though the job had been done a little cleaner, a little better.

The third victim comes up as Mingyu stares. Mid-level corporate suit who worked in data analysis and had an entirely boring and normal life. No enemies, no debts, no reason for anyone to want him dead. His family had come to claim his Core two days after they'd been notified, and Mingyu was surprised to discover that in a world full of abnormal, the man had been even keel and plain with enough money to provide for himself and his family but not enough to do much else than that.

The fourth and fifth victims' only similarities were their involvement in the black market, though neither had crossed paths. The fourth had been a street vendor selling neural mods, but the fifth had been a retired surgeon who'd started performing illegal Core augmentations that had landed him with a fine and warning - not jail. Never jail.

And now Harlan Voss, the owner of an apartment complex. All of the victims had been from different parts of the city, the only thing linking them together was the ritual by which they had been left for him. Though Mingyu can't prove it, he feels like there's a joking edge to it now, like each death is meant to tease him and his inability to figure it out.

He leans back in his chair, the springs groaning under his weight. His eyes burn. He hasn't slept more than three hours in the past two days, and even that was broken up by the fragmented dreams of the butterfly effect audio bleeding into his fucking subconscious until he woke up gasping, the words echoing in his skull.

There's something he's missing. Mingyu knows he's on a timeline to figure it out now that Voss has been killed. Before, his superiors hadn't thought much of a serial killer stringing together some useless skins - people who didn't matter in the system. Though Harlan Voss doesn't matter, exactly, he's a step closer to the people up top that the city is obsessed with protecting, the people worth protecting.

Mingyu had learned a long time ago that people have become disposable. Bodies are just shells now, things you can rent or buy or discard when they stop serving you. Cores get pulled, transferred, reinstalled into something younger and prettier, and the person moves on. Humanity has been reduced to data, consciousness stripped down to the electrical impulses that can be copied, moved, and erased.

Death is so common to those at the top that it barely registers. But when real death happens - Core death - it turns heads, especially when it's a little too close to the gilded.

Mingyu's jaw tightens. His body aches, knees stiff, lower back throbbing from too many hours in this shitty chair, too many hours in the field in his original Skin. He feels every year of it, and though it makes him feel human, he can't help but be bothered how the wealthy don't age like this. They just buy new bodies by the dozen. Transfer over. Keep going. It's immortality for anyone who can afford it, cheating death over and over again.

Cracking his neck, Mingyu refocuses on the work at hand and pulls up the financial records again, cross-referencing bank accounts, transaction histories, anything that might link the victims. There's nothing, of course. Everyone has different banks and different spending patterns, different lives and different histories. The only thing they have in common is the way they died.

The butterfly effect is a principle in chaos theory…

Mingyu's phone buzzes on the desk. He picks it up to see Chan's name flash across the screen and he answers right away. "Lee, what have you got?"

"Core is ready," Chan says on the other side. "I've stabilized it enough for a read of the memory logs. You should come down."

"How long do we have?"

"Hard to say. It's pretty damaged. Could be an hour, could be less. If we're going to pull anything, it needs to be now."

"Heard. On my way."

Mingyu ends the call and stands. The holoscreen glows faintly in front of him, the six faces of the dead he can't seem to bring justice too staring back at him until he swipes again and they vanish. He grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and heads for the door, shrugging the leather over his shoulders.

The forensic lab is two floors down, a section of the station most detectives like to avoid. Mingyu takes the stairwell, refusing to get stuck in the elevator for a sixth time, leaping down the steps as he takes two at a time.

Bright, sterile light greets him as he pushes into the lab, making him squint. Banks of equipment link the walls, shelves full of neural readers, Core analysis stations, data extraction devices and a section for biopsy and medical analysis. The air smells faintly chemical, kind of like the inside of a machine. He prefers the smell of the burnt coffee and damp upstairs than whatever it is that permeates the forensic floor.

Chan is standing at the far end of the room, hunched over a workstation where a cylindrical containment unit glows with a faint, sickly cyan light. Voss's Core floats suspended in the translucent gel, its surface marred with dark fractures that spiderweb across the neural casing, damaged from the attack. Mingyu watches as the light flickers, pulsing in irregular intervals while Chan tinkers with it.

"Lee," Mingyu greets, crossing the room in a few long strides.

"We've got maybe thirty minutes before this thing goes dark," Chan says without looking up, his fingers tapping on a tablet next to him. A holographic interface appears over the desk, cyan numbers and date reflected in Chan's glasses. "Give me a sec."

"Can we reanimate him?" Mingyu asks, crossing his arms over his chest as Chan works.

The lab technician shakes his head. "No. The damage is too extensive. A system reboot would require full neural integration, and the Core can't support that kind of load. It would collapse the moment we tried to initialize consciousness."

He taps a section of the holographic display, pulling up a three-dimensional model of the Core's internal structure. Half of it is shaded black, dead zones where the neural pathways have been damaged beyond repair. Mingyu sighs, nodding. They're lucky they have anything at all - a damaged Core is better than no Core at all.

"We can access the memory storage," Chan says, tapping something. "It's fragmented and corrupted in places, but there's enough intact data that we can pull maybe a few minutes worth of his life from it. Maybe more if we're lucky."

"How much is a few minutes?"

"Hard to say until we're in. Could be five, could be ten. Depends on how much the Core was actively recording before it got damaged." Chan glances at Mingyu, his expression cautious. "This isn't like interrogating a living witness, Detective. We're pulling raw sensory data that will be from Voss's perception. It'll be disjointed - memory isn't linear."

Mingyu nods. "Do it."

Chan's fingers move across the interface, initiating the connection sequence. The containment unit hums, a low vibration that Mingyu feels in his chest, and the cyan light intensifies, brightening until it casts sharp shadows across the lab.

The holoscreen shifts and for a moment, there's nothing but static and a wash of grey noise that flickers and shifts. Then an image resolves, making both Mingyu and Chan lean forward as Chan tampers with the interface, sharpening the image.

A penthouse. Floor-to-cieling windows. Rain. The perspective shifts as Voss moves, walking across the floor of his apartment to his kitchen and grabs a bottle of whiskey and pours two fingers worth into a glass. Voss takes a swig and then walks back to the living room where Mingyu recognizes the space and the coffee table where Voss's body had been cracked open.

"This is from earlier in the evening," Chan says, his voice quiet. "Before the murder."

Mingyu doesn't respond. He's too focused on the screen, watching as Voss sits down on the couch, picks up a tablet and scrolls. Nothing else seems to happen, nothing that screams he's about to be murdered. Mingyu is about to complain when the perspective shifts again to show a new scene.

Marble floors reflect overhead lights. The sound of Voss's footsteps echo across his memory as he passes a doorman in a crisp uniform and a name tag that reads Martinez.

Rain hits the screen, rippling across the holo in temporary distortion as Voss gets into a car. The driver takes off and Minguy watches as the city blurs past in a mess of lights and umbrellas, the sensory feed blurring and glitching as it tries to accommodate for the sights and sounds and thoughts and feelings of Voss in that moment.

Suddenly the image blurs and shifts so that Voss is standing in front of a strip club. The entrance is unmarked except for a single neon sign that flickers in shades of magenta and violet, hearts climbing up the side as holograms of girls beckon him in. He passes through the door and strobing lights cut through the feed, blinding both Chan and Mingyu like they're seeing it in the flesh.

Heavy base pulses through the feed as Voss moves deeper into the club. A stage dominates the center of the space, and on it, multiple dancers move with practiced precision, their bodies catching the strobing lights in fragmented movements. Here, the feed breaks off into fractal images as the Core flashes - a leg extended, an arch of the back, a turn that sends hair flying.

Mingyu tries to catalogue the faces as he sees them - a woman with pink eyes, someone with a swirling tattoo, another with sharp eyes that seem to track the crowd even as her body ripples across the stage like water. It's your eyes that makes Mingyu pause, cutting him down to the bone, your gaze more present than that of the far-off look of the others.

But then you're gone as the perspective shifts and the image bleeds into Voss in the bathroom, drunk and leaning heavily against the urinal as he relieves himself. Chan makes a disgusted sound as the memory jumps again to a small ramen cart somewhere in an unknown district.

"This is jumping around," Chan says, his voice cutting through the feed. "The Core is pulling fragments non-sequentially. We're seeing his evening out of order."

Another jump. More faces. A man in a leather jacket, arguing with someone Mingyu can't see. A couple pressed against the wall, kissing. A group of young people clustered around a table, their faces illuminated by the glow of their handheld screens.

And then, for just a moment, another face that belongs to a woman standing near the back of the bar, watching the crowd.

Mingyu's breath catches. He knows that face.

"Wait," he says, his hand shooting up. "Stop. Go back."

Chan's fingers freeze over the interface. "What?"

"That woman. The one in the back." Mingyu leans closer to the holoscreen, his exhaustion momentarily burned away by a spike of adrenaline. "I've seen her before. In the club footage. She was on stage."

Chan rewinds the feed, pulling up the earlier memory from the strip club. The perspective shifts back to the moment on stage. A woman with pink eyes, one with a swirling tattoo, one with sharp eyes. Mingyu points.

"Her," he murmurs. "She's in two of his memories."

"Could be coincidence," Chan says, but his tone suggests he doesn't believe it. "She could work multiple venues. Dancers do that sometimes."

"Or she was following him," Mingyu says. The implications settle over the lab like a weight. "Or she was part of it."

The perspective lingers on you for a fraction of a second longer than the others, just long enough for Mingyu to register your face clearly, and then Voss turns away and you're gone, swallowed back into the crowd.

The memory jumps again. Voss is back in his car, then in the lobby of his building, then in the elevator ascending to his floor. The doorman from earlier is talking to someone Mingyu can't see. Security personnel stand near the entrance, their faces blank and professional. A woman in a business suit walks past, her heels clicking against the marble, her face turned toward her phone.

Then Voss is in his penthouse. The perspective shifts as Voss moves, walking across the floor of his apartment to his kitchen and grabs a bottle of whiskey and pours two fingers worth into a glass. Voss takes a swig and then walks back to the living room where Mingyu recognizes the space and the coffee table where Voss's body had been cracked open.

"We're back at the beginning," Chan notes."

In the memory, the doorbell chimes. Mingyu leans forward, his pulse quickening when he realizes this must be it - this has to be the moment the killer entered the apartment. The image flickers and static washes across the holoscreen, distorting the feed. When it clears, the perspective has put Voss back in the living room again as the sound of the doorbell loops.

"It's corrupting," Chan notes, hitting a few buttons on his tablet. "Fuck, it's going to fry."

"Push it anyway. We're right there."

Chan obeys but the containment unit's hum rises to a high-pitched whine as warnings flash across the screen about the Core overheating. The holoscreen sharpens but Mingyu lets out an angry sound when he sees the memory loop back to Voss walking into the apartment building again, ignoring Martinez at the door as he heads for the elevator. The feed glitches, harsh reds and blues blooming across the screen before Voss is back at the club again, with you leaning forward, your eyes piercing even in the corrupted feed.

"No, go back to the apartment!"

"I'm trying," Chan shoots back. "I told you, this thing is damaged and we've got way more out of it than expected."

Audio fragments layer over each other, the pounding bass of the club's music mixing with the ding of the elevator, and the doorman's greeting. It's a mess of sound, too much information compressed into too little time, the Core's final desperate attempt to dump everything before it dies.

"Come on," Chan mutters to himself, trying to sharpen the feed as the containment unit whines. "Fucking come on!"

The doorbell rings again and Voss walks toward the door as Mingyu leans closer, his heart beating in his throat. Voss reaches out with one hand toward the door and the holoscreen goes dark, the containment unit's light dying as the hum cuts off sharply. An acrid smell comes from the Core where it smokes, the electrical wiring fried, filling the air with a metallic, burnt smell.

"Dammit!" Mingyu swears, punching a fist down on the lab table. The containment unit rattles and Mingyu leans on his hands, head hanging between his shoulders as Chan tries to pry the dead, smoking Core out of the unit. "Fuck. Fuck."

"Well," Chan sighs. "At least I recorded it all."

Mingy lifts his head. "What?"

"The data. I recorded it while extracting." He raises his brows. "Do you think I'm an idiot? I put it on a backup file so at least what we have - even if it's fuck all - is on a drive. I can run some facial recognition on everyone who passed through the memory."

Mingyu straightens, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "How long?"

"Couple hours, maybe more. Go home, Detective. Get some rest. There's nothing more we can do for a few hours and you look like shit, man."

Mingyu wants to argue, wants to stay and watch the facial recognition run in real time, but he knows Chan is right. He's been awake for thirty-six hours straight, his body running on caffeine and adrenaline, and his mind is starting to blur at the edges. He nods once, sharp, and turns toward the door.

"I'll call you when I have something," Chan says.

Mingyu doesn't respond. He walks out of the lab, through the sterile white corridor, and back up the stairwell to his floor of the precinct. It's quieter upstairs now, most of the day shift gone with only a few officers still lingering at their desks as they pour themselves over paperwork and their own cases. Mingyu grabs his jacket from the back of his chair, hits the power button on his computer, and heads for the garage.

Fluorescent lights flicker above his head as he jogs down the concrete stairwell, footsteps loud and echoing. The air gets cold and damp as he descends, the rain seeping in through the shitty insulation and clinging to the walls. By the time he reaches the garage level, he feels the moisture in his shirt and hair, clinging to him like a heavy second skin.

The garage is mostly empty, making it easy to spot his bike near the back. It's sleek and shining in the reflection of the light fixture above it, black surface gleaming. It's the single most expensive thing that Mingyu owns and his most prized possession, hours of learning how to take care of it and fix it because tune ups are out of his pay range poured into the machine.

He swings a leg over it and removes the helmet from where it hangs on the handle bars, popping it over his head where a cyan heads up display appears across the face shield. He presses the start button and the bike roars to life under him, vibrating as he nudges the footstand and rolls forward, twisting the throttle until he's coasting through the garage.

Rain hits him as soon as he hits the street level, cold and rushing off his helmet in neon rivulets. The streets are slick as glass beneath him, reflecting the towers of the city on either side of the road, ripping as he gasses it and his bike tears through the street.

He cuts through the lower districts and side streets, avoiding the elevated highways where there's always traffic and road closures because some rich asshole has paid a heavy fee for an expedited drive somewhere. Down here, the world is just like Mingyu likes it, all cracked pavement and burnt out street lights, the flickering holographic advertisements advertising very illegal clinics that he ignores because so long as they're not murdering anyone, he doesn't have time to care.

Mingyu doesn't go straight home, too wired to do anything but pace the walls of his tiny apartment in silence. Instead, he cuts into a mixed commercial district a few blocks from his apartment, heading for a stretch of storefronts and vendors that stay open late.

Above, the rain has softened to a drizzle, misting the air as he kills the engine and walks the bike forward to the curb before setting it on the kickstand. He pops the helmet off and takes it with him this time, not stupid enough to leave it unguarded downtown like he might in the garage of a police precinct.

He walks past a pawn shop with bars on the windows, the display cluttered with outdated neutral interfaces, cracked holoscreen displays and retro computers. The shop is closed, but he can see the security bot inside, patrolling as it tips back and forth while driving over uneven flooring.

Next to the pawn shop is a laundromat he's intimately familiar with from the apartment he lived in just two blocks away. In his earlier days on the job, he'd sit here on Sundays and listen to the machines hum, thankful for the warmth in the winter from the exhaust vents while he poured over cases and bitch work given to him until he could earn his keep.

Mingyu keeps walking, passing a convenience store with flickering signs and people that move with hunched shoulders against the drizzle. No one pays him much mind, everyone too preoccupied with their own lives as they scuttle along like beetles.

The automatic door of the 24-hour market hisses when Mingyu ducks in. Bright lights make him squint as he walks the aisle filled with bright neon prices and advertisements calling to him, products ranging from everything to instant meals, cigarettes and cheap liquor to disposable razors and batteries. A clerk sits behind the counter, scrolling through a tablet, ignoring Mingyu entirely.

Mingyu doesn't mind. He picks up a pack of ramen, a bottle of cold coffee from the refrigerated section, a pack of cigarettes, and a pack of caffeine gum in cherry flavor that he likes to chew late at night on the job for an extra kick of energy. The clerk rings him up without comment and Mingyu pays with his phone before scooping his things and heading back outside into the drizzle.

Pausing, he tears open the new pack of cigarettes with his teeth, rolling the plastic and tossing it into the trash. Fishing one out, he sticks it between his lips and searches for a lighter for a few seconds before lighting it and taking a deep drag, feeling his lungs expand as they feel with acrid smoke.

Mingyu can't help but think about you in Voss's memory, the dancer with the sharp gaze who appeared twice. It isn't much, but it can't be a coincidence - coincidences don't exist in Mingyu's line of work. He knows the city is full of people moving through the same spaces and crossing paths without meaning, but seeing you multiple times in Voss's memory is something.

The butterfly effect is a principle chaos theory that states that small, seemingly insignificant changes in initial conditions can trigger massive, unpredictable, and vastly different outcomes in complex systems.

Mingyu sucks in another drag and blows the smoke out in a sigh. As much as he hates for his killer to be right about anything, Mingyu feels instinctually that you are, that something about you has caused a ripple effect. He just needs to figure out how and why.

He finishes the cigarette and drops it, grinding it out under his heel while the smoke lingers in his lungs for a minute. Shuffling the bag in his arms, he heads back toward where he parked his bike, passing by a noddle stand on the corner with steam rising and the smell of frying garlic and chili oil cutting through the damp air. Mingyu considers stopping, but he's not hungry. He just needed to be somewhere that wasn't the station or his apartment.

Back at the bike, he opens the seat and dumps his belongings in the compartment before swinging back on and pulling his helmet on. The drive to his apartment is slow and winding, cutting through back alleys and misting rain until he's parking in the cracked-concrete garage and taking the stairs up to the fourth floor.

Mingyu shoulders into the apartment after unlocking the door, immediately toeing off his boots while he locks the door behind him. It's not much - just one room, a kitchenette, a bathroom with a shower that barely works and has no hot water, and one large window that overlooks the street, the view mostly obscured by the constant rain.

He sets the bag on the counter and pulls out the ramen before going through the motions, boiling water and tearing into the sauce packet with his teeth, mind far away from his little corner of the world while he thinks about you again, a thread among the chaos - a beat of a butterfly's wings, maybe.

- Mingyu jolts awake in the dim glow of his apartment, his heart hammering against his ribs. The ringing that cuts through the haze is distorted and confusing until he realizes there's a small green hologram lighting up over his phone. He fumbles for it, hand knocking over his reading glasses, his pistol, and the tablet he'd been using to research the stupid butterfly effect again.

Chan's name displays as the phone continues ringing, lighting up the world as Mingyu fumbles to answer. "Hello?

"You sound like hell," Chan replies, the sound of a keyboard in the background. "Facial rec pulled a hit on that woman from Voss's memory. Cross-referenced with club surveillance feeds from the entertainment district, looks like she's a performer at the club Wings. High end joint."

Mingyu leans against his headboard, running a hand over his face. The single window in his unit lets in the never-ending neon glow from outside, casting dull patterns across his bedroom. He hears the rain tapping against the glass, a constant companion.

"Wings. Got it. Send me the address."

"On it. It's in the mid-tier entertainment strip near the old elevated line. I recommend caution. It's on the mid-tier strip but it leans high end - the entertainment there aren't standard rentals."

"Name?"

"Looks like the stage name might be Psyche."

Mingyu frowns as he gets out of bed and grabs a dirty pair of jeans off the floor to shove one leg in, jamming the phone between his face and his shoulder.

"Like the wife of Cupid?"

"Seems that way."

"Anything else?

"Clean on the surface. No priors, no traffic tickets. Nothing."

"Well his memory showed her twice. Can't be random."

Chan sighs. "I'm inclined to agree. Like I said, be careful. Security at these places crack skulls first and ask questions later. You don't have money for a new Skin."

"Heard. Talk later."

Mingyu finishes getting dressed, his heart hammering the entire time. This is the thread - the butterfly's wingbeat. He can feel it in his gut, something sharpening into something purposeful, an instinct that has led him on every hunt for a killer he's been on.

He moves quickly, pulling on a long-sleeved shirt that smells like sweat and cologne, pulling on boots with loose laces, and tucking his gun in the back of his pants before hiding it with the hem of his shirt. He tucks a badge in his pocket, and heads out of the room, knocking his shin against the corner of the bed and cursing loudly.

At the door, he grabs his helmet and heads out into the hall, nearly jogging as he takes the steps down to street level two at a time. Rain greets him outside, making his shirt cling to his frame as he straddles his bike. The engine roars to life, HUD on his helmet flickering alive with the address overlay. He twists the throttle and tears into the night, tires slicing through puddles.

The ride blurs into a streak of neon and the lower streets give way to the mid-level sprawl, where wealth brushes against grit. Autonomous cabs hum past, their passengers hidden behind tinted fields. Elevated tracks arc overhead, sparks occasionally flying from aging mag-rails. Mingyu leans into turns, the bike's vibration thrumming through his bones, chasing away the last dregs of fatigue.

By the time he pulls up to the curb outside Wings, the rain eases to a misty veil, but the air hangs heavy with the smell of gas and rusting metal, a permanent smell that never really seems to leave.

He parks the bike on a side street and heads toward the front door of the club, uncaring that he's a bit damp and messy. The club is impossible to miss, the facade bright with iridescent panels that shift colors under a massive holographic marque that reads: WELCOME TO WINGS, WHERE FANTASIES TAKE FLIGHT.

Security drones hover discreetly at the entrance, red scanner lights sweeping patrons as they stand in line. The line is mostly men who look better dressed than Mingyu, umbrellas in hand to keep the rain off their backs as a security guard stands at the door checking IDs and taking money.

Mingyu gets in line and ignores the way the others look at him, tucking his helmet under his arm. He's bouncing with energy now, craning his neck to look up at the holograms above, dancers in all manner of fantasy writhing and twisting in shades of fuchsia and red and lavender.

It takes about ten minutes to reach the door where a security guard with one augmented eye looks at him, his lens turning cyan as he scans Mingyu. He holds out his hand for an ID, which Mingyu hands over immediately.

"Cover is two hundred creds. If you want a private room, see the bar. Private rooms start at five hundred."

"Two hundred?" He asks, feeling himself stall out. "Fucking hell."

"Pay or get out."

Grumbling, Mingyu takes out his phone and transfers over the credits, swallowing thickly when he sees how close it brings him to the negatives. He's not sure this qualifies for reimbursement at the station, but he's going to file it anyway.

"Head in. Any trouble and you're out."

Mingyu steps by as the door hisses open. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of engineered pheromones being pumped in through the vents with the smell of liquor. Bass pumps through the room, vibrating through the floor and up his spine. The main floor sprawls under a vaulted ceiling alive with projected constellations that shift in real-time, stars turning as though the club is spinning in time with the world's real rotation.

Dancers move with unnatural grace, and it takes Mingyu a moment to realize that all of them have wings. He spots one with dragonfly wings that glitter as she spends, refracting light. Another has raven wings, inky black even as she twists around a pole under cyan light.

He hadn't expected the theme to be so literal, but he's glad that the wings are wearables and not uncanny body mods. He slinks through the room between patrons, noting the privacy feels that shimmer in the distance to hide the VIP booths from prying eyes. The private rooms are further back, a neon sign above a shadow hall with fly away above it.

Mingyu's eyes scan methodically, cutting through the sensory overload. He clocks exits, security nodes embedded in the walls, the faint hum of surveillance drones disguised as decorative moths fluttering near the ceiling. No sign of you yet, though, so he drifts toward the bar, ordering a cheap synth-whiskey to blend in, the glass cool against his callused fingers. The liquid burns familiarly as he sips, eyes never still.

Then he sees you and the world slows down a little.

You emerge from a side alcove onto one of the elevated platforms framed by gossamer curtains that part around you, moved by some sort of air effect. You're wearing delicate butterfly wings, spans of translucent fabric that looks like real membrane catching the light. You're dressed in minimal strips of iridescent material, accentuating each one of your curves while leaving the wings unobstructed.

Just like in Voss's memories, it's your eyes that make Mingyu freeze. It carries the same piercing quality as you dance, cutting through the room. It's not the same hazy allure of the other dancers, but something more focused like a predator among pretty things.

Butterfly wings. It makes him go cold, the butterfly effect audio recycling through his head over and over as he watches you dance, your wings fluttering. Despite being fake, they look real, catching the light as you shimmer, more beautiful than anything else he's ever seen.

Mingyu finishes his drink and sets it down harshly as he turns to the bar and hails down a bartender to ask for a private room. The bartender slides over a tablet and Mingyu scrolls until he finds your stage name - Psyche - and nearly vomits the whiskey back up when he sees the price.

"Eight hundred credits for thirty minutes?" He growls. He curses under his breath and charges it to his credit card, knowing he's never going to pay it off before it gains sixty percent interest. "Better be fucking worth it."

A room number flashes on the screen and he memorizes it before stalking off toward the hallway of private rooms, glancing at your platform as he does. You tilt your head, hand going briefly to your ear before turning to get off the platform. It's then that he realizes you have an ear piece in. He files that piece of information away.

The private room is small and blessedly clean, the seats plush with a low table in front of them. He throws himself down and shivers, the room unnaturally cold. He glances around but sees no clock or anything else in the room except a private bar which he knows will cost extra, so he doesn't dare, instead staring at the door until it opens.

Mingyu's heart starts to hammer as you slide into the room, sitting up straighter. It doesn't occur to him that up until this morning, he's never done this before. The realization makes him nervous, palms sweaty as you slink toward him, smiling and tilting your head.

"New face," you greet, sliding onto the seat next to him. You lean against the seat, facing him as you cross one leg over the other. "Pretty face."

Up close, the details on your face come into sharp focus: faint iridescence on your skin like starlight, the scent of jasmine and amber, pretty eyes that swallow him whole.

"Looking to forget the rain outside?" You ask him, voice sweet and soft. "I can fix that."

Mingyu leans back, forcing a lazy smirk that does not reach his eyes. He plays the part - client with creds to burn, interest piqued by the exotic. "Something like that."

A small smile tugs your lips. "What do you want tonight? Escape? Or just a pretty distraction?"

"Distraction sounds good. Start with a dance, yeah?"

If you sense his confidence is feigned, you don't show it. You stand, the wings spreading wide behind you, catching the low light and refracting it into soft gradients of color. The music shifts to something slower and heavier, the bass making Mingyu's skin itch. You move with practiced precision, hips swaying as you step closer, one hand trailing along the back of the couch.

Mingyu's breath catches. He reminds himself it's the job and that he's here for information, not this. But his body doesn't listen as he becomes hyper aware of you, his fingers twitching as he fights not to jump out of the booth and away from you. It's not that he's bad with women - he's not - but this is new to him, never having paid for a moment of attention this intimate and sensual.

You turn your back to him now, the wings folding slightly as you lower yourself onto his lap. The weight of you is real and solid, warm through the thin fabric of his clothes. You roll your hips slowly and Mingyu's hands grip the edge of the couch to keep from reaching for you or pushing you off - he's not entirely sure which.

Your hair brushes his jaw as you lean back, your head tilting to rest near his shoulder, and he feels the heat of your breath against his neck. He can't help but shiver, the smell of your jasmine and amber so overwhelming he feels his lashes flutter.

"You're tense," you murmur. "Relax."

He can't. His mind is racing, cataloging details like the way you move, the control in every gesture, the sharpness in your eyes when you glanced at him earlier. This isn't just a performance. There's something calculated about it, something that doesn't match the soft, breathy voice you're using now.

You turn again, straddling him now, your knees pressing into the couch on either side of his hips. Your hands rest on his shoulders, fingers light, and you lean in close enough that he can see the faint shimmer of makeup on your eyelids, the way your pupils dilate in the low light.

"Better?" you ask, smiling.

Mingyu swallows. "Yeah."

You laugh, soft and knowing, and shift your weight, grinding down just enough to make his pulse spike. The wings flutter behind you, a distraction, a spectacle, and he realizes that's the point. You're good at this and he doesn't know why but he hates that it works on him, even if it's your job to do this, to pull focus, to keep the client's attention where you want it.

He clears his throat, forcing himself to focus. "You're good at what you do."

"I know," you whisper, tilting your head so that your breath fans against his ear. "Don't you want to touch me?

"Actually, I uh - want to ask you something."

You pull away from him and though your smile doesn't falter, your eyes shift. "That's expensive."

"No," Mingyu protests quickly, grabbing you and pushing you back a little. You flinch when he touches you and he lets go immediately. "Sorry, I don't want to like - that."

"Okay. Then what do you want?"

"You know Harlan Voss?"

It's the wrong question to ask. Your entire body goes rigid and your eyes lock onto his as your delicate persona shatters immediately. What's left is sharp, cold, and predatory. Mingyu's pulse spikes as you get off of him and put space between you, your eyes icy.

"Who the fuck are you?" you ask. Your real voice is a little deeper than the breathy rasp you'd used moments ago. "And what the fuck do you want?"

Mingyu holds up his hands. "I just need to ask you a few questions-"

"Get the fuck out."

"Listen, I'm not here to cause trouble-"

You hit a button he didn't see near the door and the door opens immediately. Mingyu makes a sound of protest when he sees a security guard appear at the door, his eyes glancing between the two of you.

"Problem?" He asks.

"He needs to leave. Now."

Mingyu stands slowly, adrenaline cutting through the tension in his body. His pulse is still elevated from the dance, from the heat of your body on his lap. He pulls the badge from his pocket and the security guard stiffens further. So do you, taking a step away from him again.

"You need a warrant, buddy."

"Detective Kim. Homicide. I'm investigating a murder, and I need to ask her some questions."

"I don't give a fuck who you are," you seethe. "Get out."

He sighs. "Can we just-"

"Get a warrant," you snarl, barring your teeth at him like something feral.

Mingyu realizes you're afraid of him. Not like someone caught in a lie or someone caught with their hand on the gun, but like someone who is cowering, like he might strike. He thinks it's odd, watching as you shake, eyes wide and trembling.

He could push. He could insist, make this official, drag you down to the station for questioning. But something in him softens, and he pockets the badge, raising his hands. "I'll leave. No trouble."

The security guard steps aside and Mingyu walks toward the door as he looks at you one last time. Your wings are still spread wide, trembling slightly, and your eyes are locked on him. There's fear there, yes, but something else too. Recognition. Guilt. Something. Before he can decide what, the security guard steps between you and cuts off Mngyu's line of sight, ushering him into the hallway.

With a loud shout that's lost to the pound of music, you slam the door. Mingyu sighs, staring at the door for a few minutes before he turns and walks back through the club, the music vibrating through the walls as he winds past the stages and the strobing lights. His mind is stuck on you, of course. The terror. The gaze. The butterfly wings.

The butterfly effect is a principle chaos theory that states that small, seemingly insignificant changes in initial conditions can trigger massive, unpredictable, and vastly different outcomes in complex systems.

He pushes through the front door and into the rain, the cold hitting him sharply. Mingyu shivers but stands outside the door, letting the rain cut through him, washing away the smell of jasmine and amber, clearing his mind a little.

However, to you, the idea of having to marry a stranger for the sake of alliance and not out of love felt like a death sentence. The idea of surrendering your virtue and your body to some foreign prince who saw you as nothing but a bargaining chip made your stomach churn uncomfortably. 

So instead of sleeping, you find yourself at the archery range behind the eastern stables, long after the castle has fallen into slumber. 

The moon stands proud and high in the sky, washing over the training grounds and the dew-kissed grass with pale light. You’d dismissed the guards earlier with sharp words about needing fresh air, which was both a lie and a truth. Now, you’re standing in your nightgown, nocking another arrow onto your bowstring with shaking fingers. You’ve been here long enough that you could feel the painful creases in your hands from wielding the bow for so long. Out of frustration, perhaps. 

As you prepare your stance and aim, you let the arrow fly, but it runs wide and embeds itself into the outer ring of the target with a dull thud. 

You let out an irritated groan, already reaching for another arrow from your quiver. But as you prepare to fit the arrow onto your bowstring, a pair of heavy footsteps from behind makes you freeze for a moment, before your shoulders relax. Only one man moved with that quiet, confident stride.

“Princess.”

The deep voice sends a shivering thrill down your spine that has nothing to do with the chilly air.

When you finally turn around, that’s when you see him𑁋Sir Kim Mingyu emerging from the shadows, wearing a dark tunic and breeches instead of his usual armour, with his sword still strapped to his hip. His broad frame casts long shadows across the grass, dark hair slightly disheveled from the breeze, his eyes flickering between your trembling hands, to the poorly shot arrow, then back to your face. Even in the nightfall, you can see the concern etched in his perfectly sculpted features.

He has always been one of the most successful knights in the kingdom𑁋strong, loyal, and overwhelmingly skilled with both blade and blow. Ever since he had been assigned to protect you personally three years ago, he had always been in your shadow; although at some point in time, he started feeling less like a shadow and more like a presence you silently yearned for.

Mingyu pauses a few paces away from you.  

“You should not be here at this hour,” he says, though his tone is more sincere than scolding. “It is not safe. Even with the castle asleep, there are eyes everywhere.” 

You lower the bow in guilt, fingers aching from the string. “I am aware.”

“Would you like me to escort you back to your𑁋”

“No!” You cut in sharply, before wincing at your tone and softening it. “I… I cannot go back. Not at this moment.”

Mingyu studies you for a long minute, the moonlight catching the sharp line of his jaw almost makes him appear ethereal. He doesn’t move closer𑁋not yet𑁋but he doesn’t retreat either. He can sense the anger surrounding you, clearly expressed by the way you seem to be striking the target, not aiming. 

And from years of watching over you, he knows when not to put more pressure on a wound that’s been hurting from the inside. He knows this perhaps more better than anyone. 

But he also knows it’s not his duty to assist you in that way. His duty is to protect you physically and nothing more. Not to soothe whatever ache may be plaguing your heart, or cross that invisible line that’s stood tauntingly right in front of him for years, just like now. Emotion has never been part of the oath he took. 

Yet… he still takes a step forward, then another, and another, until he stops directly ahead of you. 

“Let me assist you then,” Mingyu assures softly.

You scoff at that, rolling your eyes. “You are not on duty.”

His lips curve up into a faint, almost bittersweet smile. “When have I ever been off-duty where you are concerned, princess?” 

That sends a lump to form in your throat and your heart thundering against your ribs. You almost want to push him away and order him to leave you alone, but his presence alone in front of you wraps around you like a comforting hug that you’ve always longed for. It’s almost enough to stop the restlessness coursing through your veins, if only for a single moment.

You hand him the bow and quiver. He takes it without hesitation, his large, calloused hand brushing over yours and sending warmth racing up your arm. Then he places himself directly behind you, close enough you can feel the heating radiating from his broad chest even through his tunic. 

“Show me your stance,” he orders. 

Biting at your bottom lip, you spin on your heel to face the target, bringing your arms up and positioning them as if you’re wielding an invisible bow. 

Mingyu’s eyes slowly trace over you𑁋over the line of your shoulder and the delicate curve of your spine beneath your nightgown. For a split second, his breath catches and his jaw clenches. He forces himself to focus back on your posture instead of allowing it to run lower. Gods, it feels debauched to think of you in that way. 

He steps closer until his chest is nearly flushed with your back, the warmth of his body chasing away the chill of the night. 

“May I, my lady?” he asks, letting his hands hover over your waist.

My lady. You’ve been referred by that term many times𑁋from the maids, servants, and the townspeople whenever you visited the villages. But it strikes you like an arrow whenever it comes out of his mouth. 

You swallow hard. “Yes.”

The second Mingyu’s hands settle on your waist, a spark races through your body. His large palms span over the thin silk of your nightgown. He smells faintly of earthy cedarwood, a scent you’ve come to associate with safety and comfort whenever he draws close to you. The roughness of his calloused skin drags across yours as he gently adjusts your posture, guiding your hips into a more steady alignment. 

You sense him step away briefly before caging his arms around you once more, his hands enveloping yours as he brings the bow back into your grasp. It feels more steadier in your hold with his strength supporting you, though you’re certain he can hear the way your pulse is racing against the wall of his chest.

His fingers press lightly over yours as he helps you fit the arrow into place, his thumbs innocently grazing the back of your hand. 

“Easy now,” Mingyu murmurs lowly, his voice devastatingly close to your ear. “You are trembling like a leaf in my arms, princess.”

Your breath catches. “I am not.”

“You are.” 

“The night is cold, that is why.”

“Then I shall keep Your Highness warm, yes?” Mingyu quips amusedly, chuckling lightly at the small pout that crosses your face when he peers down at you with that familiar soft charm. The sound vibrates against your back. You hate how easily he’s able to unravel you. “Now, breathe in with me, princess.”

You do𑁋you try to, at least𑁋drawing back a singular breath in rhythm with him. Your eyes falter to a fleeting close as you bask in his warmth and presence. Mingyu then guides both of your grasps together in pulling back the string of the bow.

“That’s it, good girl,” he mutters softly, the praise landing in that deep timbre before you have time to brace it; it almost makes you break your stance. “Focus.”

Mingyu notices it as well, a quiet yet sharp inhale leaving him and ghosting over the sensitive caress of your neck. He presses his body more against you, his large arms wrapping more securely, almost possessively, around you. How can you possibly focus when he’s tangled around you like this? 

Together, you slowly pull the bowstring taut. The world suddenly narrows to the whisper of his voice and the strength of his arms caging you in. 

“Release,” he commands. 

The arrow flies. 

And hits the centre of the clay target with a satisfying swipe. 

What possesses you in the next moment is beyond proper, maybe even beyond reckless. A wide grin splits your face in half, and before you can even process it, you’re turning around and enveloping your arms around Mingyu without a second thought. The bow and quiver clatters forgotten to the ground. 

You end up shifting your weight on him a little too eagerly from the buzz of excitement coursing through your limbs. Mingyu tries to steady you, but𑁋even in his tall and strong form𑁋it throws him helplessly off balance at the same time. He twists instinctively around you, hugging an arm around your waist while the other braces against the grass. 

The two of you end up falling in a heap on the ground, a startled yelp escaping your lips when the world tilts all too suddenly. But Mingyu absorbs most of the impact himself while shielding you from the worst of it. 

The air leaves his lungs in a soft grunt. 

It takes you an entire minute to realise what just happened. Now you find your fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic, with your nightgown pooled over his thighs. Mingyu lies directly beneath you, his dark hair fanned across the ground, staring up at you with equally surprised eyes that quickly soften into something… fond. You swear that you feel all the anxious thoughts that had been consuming your mind as of late disappear just from the comfort of his presence alone. 

You can’t help but gaze down at him for a long moment, taking in the way the moonlight paints his features in a silver glow, how it highlights his nose to the point you’re able to detect the small mole on the tip of it. When the corners of his mouth begin to lift up, that’s when you push yourself off him.

“I𑁋my apologies,” You sputter out of panic as you roll off of him, your face burning with embarrassment. “I did not mean to𑁋I just got excited because we𑁋Gods above, I cannot believe I practically tackled you.”

A deep chuckle rumbles out of Mingyu’s chest. He turns on his side instead of getting up, propping his head up on one hand. “You have nothing to apologise for, princess.”

You shake your head, brushing away some dirt clinging to the ends of your nightgown. “It was very much undignified.”

Mingyu’s grin only widens. “Undignified?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve survived worse battles, my lady,” he retorts playfully. “Trust me. If I can handle a sword tournament, then I am certain I can handle being attacked by an overzealous princess.” 

You blink down at him, processing his ridiculous words, when a laugh tumbles out of you before you could stop it. A real laugh. Not one of those polished ones out of courtesy that you were taught during etiquette lessons𑁋it’s the kind of laugh that causes your nose to wrinkle and your shoulders to uncontrollably shake off whatever decorum you have left. 

You don’t even notice the enchanted expression on Mingyu’s face until reality sinks back in again and the silence returns. A distant owl from somewhere calls beyond the stables. You feel your throat tighten. 

“I… I must return back to my chambers,” You say as you stand up, smoothing down the creases in your nightgown. “I do not want to be scolded about my rebellious behaviour again, neither do I want the maids to be reprimanded.”

Mingyu watches you with a thoughtful expression, the moonlight threading through his lashes. He’s always secretly adored the rebellious side of you𑁋perhaps it gave him a sliver of hope at times. Then with a reluctant exhale, he rises up from the ground, retrieves your fallen bow and quiver, and falls into step behind you like a shadow. 

“As you wish, princess,” he states, returning back to his composed demeanour. “I shall escort you back to your chambers safely.”

You think you’ve tried on over fifty dresses at this point.

Maybe even more, to be honest. You had been standing so long that the sun had almost shifted across the entire sky. Your limbs ache from being continuously prodded at by the seamstresses and your spine feels as if it’s going to crack with every gown that you try on, each one different than the last. There was crimson for passion and power, ivory for purity and virtue. 

The small comments the servants had been making throughout the session have left a permanent sour taste on your tongue. 

“The lower neckline ought to certainly entice Prince Moon of Wolhae…” 

“And the embroidery here on the train matches perfectly with Prince Lee of Seongguk…”

“Her Highness has lovely shoulders. They should be emphasised…”

You stare blankly at yourself in the full-length mirror that stood in front of you mockingly. Gods, you appear almost unrecognisable. Your lips are stained rose, your hair twisted into an elaborate hairstyle it feels as if your scalp is screaming for mercy, and this latest gown cinches your waist so tightly you’re basically buried in silk and feel almost lightheaded. 

Then, you find your eyes instinctively drifting to the figure stationed at the corner of the room.

Mingyu is standing motionless like a statue, yet you can sense that familiar commanding presence of his even when he isn’t doing anything. He’s wearing his silver knight armour, the polished plates gleaming underneath the natural rays of sunlight pouring into the room. His gaze seems to have travelled elsewhere in the room out of respect.

But for the briefest second, his eyes meet with yours in the mirror.

Your cheeks burn instantly.

“Your Highness?” a voice suddenly strips you out of your thoughts.

You blink at one of the seamstresses holding out a pair of necklace options to you, looking at you expectantly. 

“Would you prefer sapphire or emerald?” she asks. “In my opinion, I believe the emerald would compliment your skin beautifully… although sapphire would draw attention from Prince Kang of Wangbi. His house colours are blue, after all.” 

Her words stab you straight through the heart.

Your eyes dauntingly flicker between the two options. They’re both extravagantly beautiful, without a doubt meaning to mark you as available, desirable, ready for whichever prince offered the best fit for the kingdom, not for you. Only the kingdom. Love was perhaps an unattainable concept of fiction in the world you’ve been raised in since birth. 

The truth of it makes you bite the inside of your cheek hard. 

“Neither of them,” You deadpan quietly at first, before your voice raises more sharply, “I cannot bear anymore of this nonsense.”

The room freezes and collectively falls into a hushed silence. You see all the seamstresses exchange nervous glances with each other, all of them hesitating together. 

“But Your Highness, we must perfect any altercations for the𑁋”

“I do not care!” You snap back harshly, heat brimming in your eyelids. “I am exhausted from all the fittings and the expectations of the upcoming ball. So, please… leave me at peace. That is an order.”

For a moment, no one dares to speak, before the head seamstress bows deeply and begins to gather all the fabrics, pins, jewelry, and ribbons scattered around the room, not wanting to worsen the situation more than it already is. The other seamstresses follow in swift panic, and you watch them slip out of the door one at a time. 

Until you’re alone in the room.

Well, not entirely alone. 

Mingyu still remains. 

A trembling breath leaves you all at once. The slightest movement makes your knees wobble as you’re still wearing this awful gown. It feels too tight, too suffocating, and you want nothing more than to rip out every sewn pearl out of its wedge. 

You start with that by tearing off the pins in your hair and letting it clatter onto the floor. Strands of your hair finally tumble out of its confinement, making your scalp sigh in relief. Then you try to wipe the stain off your lips with the back of your hand, but it relents and only leaves a faint smear across your skin. 

Frustration boils even harder, and before you can stop yourself, you reach behind your back to tug viciously at the laces of the gown. 

“Traitorous dress,” You murmur under your breath self-depracatingly. “How dare they taint my body with their expectations…”

When your attempts to loosen the bodice comes to no avail, your shoulders sag to the floor in defeat. But as you lift your eyes back to the mirror, that’s when you spot Mingyu again. He’s shifted in your direction slightly, still rigidly standing in the corner in silence. You clench and unclench your fists at your side. 

“Sir Mingyu?” You call out to him.

Mingyu immediately shifts his attention to you. “You called, princess?”

“May…” You bite your lip shyly, glancing at him over your shoulder. “May you grant me some assistance?”

“Of course, my lady,” he responds solemnly, his eyes flitting down to where you’re weakly tugging at the strings of your gown. “Would you like for me to call in the maids?”

“I… no, I do not wish for the maids or anyone, for that matter.” You shake your head. “I… I am seeking your help.”

A stunned pause from him. “My help?”

“Yes,” You say, voice hammering in your chest as you spin on your heel to face him with an exhausted, pleading look. “Please… I feel as if I cannot breathe in this.”

Mingyu sucks in a sharp breath. He hesitates once again, conflict flickering in his dark brown eyes, before he inclines his head in a shallow bow. 

“As you command, princess.”

He crosses the room in three measured strides, the soft clink of his armour bouncing off the walls. You turn your back to him once more. In the mirror, you watch him approach you from behind. 

Mingyu slides his gauntlets off and sets them down on a nearby table before returning back to you. His nostrils flare visibly at the sight of your back offered to him, the beautiful line of your spine exposed willingly for him where the gown had already begun to slip. He’s standing way too close, close enough he can smell the lingering scent of jasmine on your skin.

“Sir Mingyu?” Your voice snaps him out of your thoughts.

He clears his throat soundly. “Yes?”

“Relieve me,” You croak out brokenly. “Please, I beg.” 

The soft plea strikes him in the chest like a blade. He mutters something under his breath that you can’t hear, despite the close proximity. With a shuddering inhale, his bare, trembling hands find their way to the laces, slowly beginning to pull them apart one by one. 

With each one loosened, you feel the suffocating weight of the dress slowly but surely dissipating away and giving you more room to breathe.

Mingyu keeps his eyes fixed on the laces𑁋tries to keep them fixed on the laces and nowhere else. His hands that are trained to wield swords and bows are surprisingly gentle with each one he undoes. Unbridled relief fills your ribs by the time he reaches the middle of your back, and you can’t help the little involuntary moan that leaves your mouth. 

His hands falter for a second from the sound. 

Gods above, help me.

The thoughts that swim around him are completely unbecoming of a knight. He has no right to notice how the silk of the gown parts beautifully like water, no right to think that if he leaned in a little more, he could brush his lips against the nape of your neck and breathe you in like a man begging to worship his lover. How it would be so easy for him to ruin his honour by ruining you instead. 

He would be gentle with you𑁋you are far too precious to be handled roughly. He would drop to his knees and worship you right there until the sun set and rose again if you requested, because the thought of some unworthy prince treating you like nothing but a prize at an auction angers him more than anything else. 

His armour suddenly feels too tight around his body. 

“Almost done, princess,” he mutters hoarsely. “Only a few more remain.” 

You nod nimbly at his words. You keep your eyes trained on the mirror as his hands continue the rest of their descent down your back, untying the rest of the lace. At one point, his knuckles accidentally graze the warm skin above your spine, causing you to flinch. Mingyu notices it right away. 

“My apologies,” he says and lets his hands hover above your skin, too afraid to continue. “I did not mean𑁋”

“It is alright,” You tell him. “I… I do not mind your touch.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw at that as he resumes the rest of the journey. By the time the last one is undone, he takes an immediate step back to give you more space to breathe, but the absence of his warmth hits you right away when the cool air caresses your skin. 

Slowly, you allow the gown to slip to the floor, leaving you in nothing but a thin and translucent chemise you had been wearing underneath. Mingyu redirects his eyes instinctively to give you whatever privacy he could𑁋always the honourable knight he is𑁋but his ears picks up the sounds of you shifting around the room for a few moments. 

You reach for a light robe draped on a nearby chair and slip it around your body, tying the sash around your waist. Then you turn back to Mingyu who is still facing away from you. A chuckle leaves you.

“You can look now, Sir Mingyu,” You assure him playfully.

Mingyu does not move right away. For a man who could read a battlefield like the lines on the back of his hand, he seems suddenly unsure how to interpret a simple room. But when he finally turns his head, he’s met with the sight of a faint smile across your face. 

You appear so vulnerable now. The gown from earlier had been extravagant, sure, but none could compare to this version of you standing in front of him𑁋the one who had stripped herself from all the frustrations the day placed on her. Gods above, Mingyu can stare at you all night and never tire if it means seeing you happy and comfortable in your own skin.

“You seem relieved,” he says, folding his arms over his chest.

A soft laugh escapes you. “That obvious?”

“Very much so,” Mingyu replies knowingly. “How are you faring?” 

A mixture of happiness and relief washes over your features simultaneously. You step up to the grand window and bask in the late afternoon sunlight spilling through the glass, letting out the deepest breath you never realised you’d been holding in this entire time. 

“Like I can breathe again,” You say, closing your eyes for a singular precious moment to allow the peace to wash over you. “Both physically and… metaphorically as well.”

Mingyu observes you for a few, long moments. Without hesitation, he steps up to the glass right beside you, his armour gleaming under the sunbeams. The window catches a perfect view of the rolling green hills up ahead and the royal gardens down below. 

The two of you stand in front of the window for a long while. Outside, the kingdom stretches out endlessly beneath the afternoon sky. The gardens bloom with a beautiful colour palette of serenity and rose quartz flowers and the rolling hills melt into distant mountain peaks that you’ve always dreamed of exploring if you ever got the chance to.

But you know you would never get that opportunity. You have always been confined to your duties as a princess since the very day you were brought into this world. The only world you’ve always known was within the walls of the castle and the expectations that came with it. 

As you were growing up, you’ve only ever yearned for something… more. Something real. Something where you can allow your heart to travel to wherever it desires without fear or consequence. To experience a love that wasn’t manufactured out of duty or arranged into existence. You’ve always wondered what real love feels like. 

You glance up at Mingyu ponderingly. 

“May I… ask you a question, Sir Mingyu?” You ask unsurely. 

Mingyu lifts a brow. “Of course, my lady.”

“Have you ever… courted a woman when you were younger?”

A flicker of surprise graces his features. He appears almost stunned to speak at first, his dark eyes widening slightly, before nostalgia softens his face. There’s a shadow of reluctance tucked behind his gaze as he ducks his head down briefly for a moment. Not to avoid, but to think.

“I… Yes, I have courted women back when I lived in the village, before knighthood,” he answers. “Most were fleeting though, and I have learned a lot from those experiences.”

You nod solemnly, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the next question you’re about to ask.

“Were you in love with any of them?”

Mingyu hums pensively. 

“There was one, yes. She was the baker’s daughter, while I was the blacksmith’s son,” Mingyu continues with a faint smile. “She always had the brightest laugh, and flour dusted her cheeks no matter how many times she wiped them.”

A knot in your stomach tightens from his words, the jealousy flashing through so irrationally. You hate how desperately you want to ask the name of who he speaks to fondly about; about whether or not she still occupies his heart to this day.

Mingyu notices the way you shift your feet uncomfortably.  

“But her father wanted her to marry another man, one with prospects and a bag full of coin.” He exhales slowly, letting his fingertips trace over the dust on the edge of the windowsill. “I had nothing to offer her, so… we parted ways ultimately. From what I hear, she is happily married with two children now.” 

That’s when you finally lift your eyes up at him, catching how the sunlight captures the warm brown of his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” You mutter out quietly.

Mingyu just chuckles. “Do not be sorry, princess. It is all in the past.”

“Still,” You add in, shaking your head. “I have always thought of love as something… eternal. Lovers who stay together through thick and thin until the end of their days.”

Mingyu tilts his head curiously at you. “Has the topic of love been consuming your mind as of late, Your Highness?”

Heat rises through your cheeks at his question. For a heartbeat, you allow yourself to look at him. With Mingyu, you have always felt allowed to express yourself without the pretense of propriety. It’s always been easy with him, it seems. 

“Yes,” You confess bashfully. “It has.”

A heavy silence follows after your voice fades. A silence of contemplation and, oddly, comfort. You know if you speak such words to your parents or any other soul in the castle, they would look at you with nothing but disapproval and claim that your rebellious behaviour causes a negative look on the kingdom. 

Mingyu watches you carefully.

“Have you ever fallen in love, princess?” he asks simply.

The question steals the breath from your lungs. A simple question that requires a simple answer of yes or no. Yet… it is not so easy. 

You’ve read about love in the stories that fill the grand library’s walls. You’ve seen love in the way the palace gardeners tend to their blooms preciously through pricked fingers. You’ve heard about love when you overhear the stories told by the kitchen maids about the stable boys. Love has always surrounded you in every crevice in life, but it’s always felt so distant.

Until now. For the first time in your life, someone has asked you about your heart, not your duty. 

“I…” You hesitate, forcing your gaze back out the window. “I believe that I𑁋”

Before you could finish, a loud knock pounds at the door, startling you and Mingyu at the same time. Mingyu’s hand instinctively reaches out to his sword when a second more persistent knock arrives when the first one is left unanswered, already ready to shield you from any kind of danger. 

A muffled voice speaks through the wood, “Your Highness? The Queen requests your presence in the solar. She wishes to review the guest list for the upcoming ball.”

Dread slivers down your spine at the request. Your eyes flicker between the door and Mingyu𑁋when did he stand so close to you?𑁋who is already back to wearing that disciplined mask on his face, the warmth of his softened features that were there a minute ago now tucked away carefully. Yet his eyes… they still seem to betray him. 

The sight makes your heart stutter painfully in your chest. 

“Tell Mother I shall be there shortly,” You call back to the door. 

When you hear the servant’s footsteps fade away down the corridor, you release a shaky breath, grabbing the ends of your delicate robe and drawing it over yourself to hide how your chest is rising and falling erratically. You don’t catch the way Mingyu’s fingers tighten at his side, fighting the urge to reach out to you even if you are just an arm’s length away. 

“I do not want to go,” You admit unsteadily.

“I know,” Mingyu murmurs back. “But you must.”

You peer up at him with guilty eyes.

“I… I apologise for my question earlier,” You say weakly, bowing your head down apologetically even if you have more authority than him. “I did not mean to intrude on your past.”

Mingyu’s facade cracks at your words. He shakes his head. 

“You could never intrude, princess.” He hesitates momentarily, before adding on, “You may ask me anything and I will always answer truthfully. I… I feel honoured that you trust me with such vulnerable questions.”

Your heart squeezes as a grateful smile of your own graces your lips. 

You nudge him playfully with your shoulder. “May you escort me to the solar, Sir Mingyu?” 

Mingyu lets out a quiet sound that almost sounds like a laugh and offers his armoured arm for you to hold. He doesn’t bring up that you still have yet to answer his question from before. You’re the princess at the end of the day𑁋you don’t owe him an answer as much as he owes you one. 

“It would be my honour, my lady.”

Mingyu know it’s his duty to stand here𑁋to watch over the ball and ensure the safety of the guests, and especially you𑁋but he swears that he cannot breathe in his armour with every man that stands way too close to you. With every lowly prince that settles a hand on your hip, whispering sultry words in your ears that will attempt to sway you in their direction. 

No matter how far he stands away from you, he can still spot how visibly uncomfortable you are. He catches the stiffness in your shoulders, the polite smile on your face that never quite reached your beautiful eyes, and the brief, desperate glances you stole in his direction when no one else was looking.

Say the word, princess… and I’ll end this for you, he thinks. 

A low, bitter sound escapes his throat. He should not have the right to feel this jealousy when you’re only fulfilling your duties. He knows where your heart stands when it comes to the arranged marriages you’ve grown to despise. 

The only question is… if your heart did not lie with any of the princes, then where did it lie?

“Your Highness, it is an honour to share this dance with you,” Prince Moon of Wolhae whispers in your ear with a coy smirk. His hand is pressed firmly into the small of your back, pulling you closer than necessary as he leads you in a slow dance while the orchestra plays an intimate melody in the background. 

You force a courteous smile, even if every thought in your mind is begging you to pull away. Prince Moon stands too close to you, close enough his breath is too warm on your skin and his compliments come off intentionally calculated. You’ve already shared a dance with two other princes before him, and the activity of the day has begun to take its toll on you.

There was Prince Lee of Seongguk from earlier, who you swear had hands that trembled more than yours, but he was friendlier than the others. While Prince Kang of Wangbi spoke mostly more about his future heirs and himself than asking about you. And then there was Prince Moon, whose comments became more crude and entitled by the minute. 

“You dance beautifully as well,” he continues, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Together, we could build something unstoppable, should I say. Your kingdom’s ports… my army… and you in my bed every night, hm?”

You swallow down the bile rising in your throat, a grimace forming at your painted lips. “You are very forward, Prince Moon.”

He merely chuckles, seemingly dismissing your discomfort. “Because I know what I want, princess. And what I want is you.” 

Although Mingyu can’t hear your conversations, his blood boils and his fists clench so tightly it makes his gloves creak regardless. Get your filthy hands off her, bastard. You do not own her. 

Prince Moon keeps mumbling sweet poisons to you as the dance continues and the music begins to swell. The large chandelier hanging from the high ceilings casts shards of glittering gold on the floor, shimmering off your dainty circlet crown and the elegant jewelry that decorate your body.

“I admire your ambitions, Prince Moon.”

“Ambition is what wins kingdoms, my lady,” the man retorts easily, spinning you around with practiced ease. His eyes rake over your neckline as he dips you briefly, before bringing you back up with him face-to-face. His hand drops lower on your back. “Tell me, princess𑁋how do you prefer your maidenhood to be claimed? Sweet and gentle or… rough and delicious? I bet you have imagined it, yes?” 

Your stomach churns with disgust at his inquiry, but a traitorous flush creeps up your neck like a snake. Yes, you can’t deny that you have thought of it before, more often than a princess should, but never with a man with greedy hands, cold ambition, and who speaks to you as if you were some common tavern wench in front of the entire Royal Court.

You’ve imagined it with someone else entirely. A man with hands that are not plagued with conquest and rings of greed. But a man with hands as gentle as a feather on your skin. A man whose touch makes you feel wanted rather than hunted, who makes your heart ache out of longing and not out of fear. 

A man that you love. 

When Prince Moon spins you around again, your gaze frantically searches through the vast ballroom for Mingyu. You desperately try to decipher through all the smiling faces of the guests and nobles, through the goblets of wine being passed around, through the sea of glittering jewels and shiny silk.

Until they finally find him.

Mingyu is staring at you𑁋has been staring at you this entire time𑁋standing frozen in the corner with his dark eyes icy cold, unreadable, and almost… sad. Because a knight is not allowed to interfere with royal courtship or diplomacy. A knight is certainly forbidden from challenging a crowned prince over a woman who can never belong to him. 

But consequences be damned. He made a promise to the oath he took three years ago: to protect you for the rest of his life. If he receives punishment for fulfilling his oath, then he would gladly trade his knighthood to keep you safe from these perverted vultures. 

A smirk spreads across Prince Moon’s face when he notices the flush on your cheeks. 

“The idea certainly appeals to you, doesn’t it, princess?” he continues to pry.

Gods, you want to slap this man senseless across the face. 

“I believe you are forgetting yourself, Prince Moon,” You claim through gritted teeth. “I am not some conquest of yours to be spoken of so vulgarly.” 

Prince Moon’s nostrils flare in amusement. “Why are you pretending you do not crave the same things every woman does, princess?” 

For a spell, you simply stare at him. Then, you pull your hand away from his shoulder. The movement seems to break the rhythm of the dance instantly.

“I do,” You answer quietly.

The man’s smile widens.

“But not with a man who mistakes vulgarity for charm.”

His smile falters.

Around you, the orchestra continues to play, the sounds of the violins soaring to their crescendo as other couples drift across the polished dance floor, blissfully unaware that one dance has come to a standstill. 

You lift your chin to look at him, a cunning look to your face.

“You speak of kingdoms and armies as trophies, and of women as though they are no different.” Your gaze drops to the hand still resting on your lower back, and you reach down to pry it away as if it’s a leech. “I have met merchants at the market with more grace than you, Prince Moon.”

Irritation flashes across his face. “You wound me, princess. You would reject an alliance between our kingdoms over a few words?”

“I would reject any man who believes his merit is the gold upon his brow,” You deadpan sharply. “Or any man who believes a crown excuses the absence of decency.”

Several nobles glance curiously in your direction, but you don’t let their eyes tug at your determination.

“You may find that beggars cannot be choosers, Your Highness,” Prince Moon remarks stiffly, eyes narrowing down at you. 

You scoff lightly at that, rolling your eyes to his indifference. When the crescendo of the orchestra fades away, that’s when you take your chances to fully separate from him. With a cold smile and a searing glare, you rip his touch fully away from your skin, and it feels as if you can breathe out a long breath at last. 

After that, you offer Prince Moon a shallow curtsey𑁋more out of simple etiquette than respect𑁋as the violins fade into an awkward silence until there’s only the sounds of your thundering heart and the murmurs rippling through the surrounding nobles. 

“Thank you for your time, Prince Moon,” You begin evenly, smoothing down the fabric of your dress as if they had been stained. “I appreciate your… candor. It highlights your character vibrantly. I wish you a pleasant evening and safe travels on your return to Wolhae.”

Prince Moon’s jaw tightens. Your eyes sparkle victoriously under the chandelier. 

“A pity,” the man chides in disbelief. “I had hoped that the stories of your grace were true. You do recall that your parents invited me here for a reason, is that not right, princess?”

You hold his gaze with a steely look.

“You are correct,” You answer. “But I am disappointed that a prince does not know the difference between an invitation and a promise.” 

Your words land hard enough for a hushed silence to fall across the room. Prince Moon has the audacity to open his damned mouth to argue, but it falls back to a quick close when he realises that everyone is watching this happen right before their eyes. Everyone is witnessing royalty reject another in the middle of the grand ballroom. Your hands at your side start to tremble, but you hide them carefully within the folds of your dress. 

Gods, you definitely know that your parents are likely going to place your head atop a spike in the morning for this. You can already hear in your head the lecture that awaits you after sunrise. But the strength you’ve been holding on for the past weeks all crumbled the second you shared a dance with the first prince. 

The adrenaline and anger that had been keeping your spine straight is now entirely drained from your body. Before your knees could buckle, a warm yet commanding presence appears by your side instantly. 

“Prince Moon,” a voice deadpans𑁋Mingyu’s voice. He bows his head low enough to satisfy simple etiquette. “Her Highness has made her wishes clear.”

Prince Moon flits his eyes to him, dragging a condescending look up and down his stance.

“And who are you to involve yourself in royal affairs?”

“Sir Kim Mingyu of the Royal Guard.”

“So you are a servant, then?”

“I am whomever the royals of this kingdom prescribe me to be,” Mingyu states without flinching. “In this case, I serve the princess of this nation, who has clearly expressed her displeasure.”  

The tension between the two of men only thickens that even seems the ballroom itself is holding its breath. Prince Moon’s face contorts with humiliated rage. For a second, you think he might consider snapping back again, but Mingyu shifts imperceptibly closer to you, his gauntleted hand hovering near your lower back.

The prince’s eyes flicker calculatingly between the two of you. Whatever he sees in Mingyu’s dead stare makes him think better of it. 

He offers a stiff, quite literally mocking bow to you. 

“Very well,” Prince Moon spits out. “Until we meet again, princess.” 

You watch as the man stalks his way back into the crowd. Murmurs ripple throughout the ballroom𑁋most appear to be siding with the prince, because of course𑁋but you don’t let it get to you, can’t let it show that it’s getting to you. 

“Your Highness.”

When you look back up at Mingyu, everything else seems to fade. Worry and the tiniest hint of anger𑁋not at you, but for you𑁋crosses his face when he catches you the hazy exhaustion on your features. 

“Shall I escort you somewhere quieter, my lady?”  he asks quietly so only you can hear, already offering his arm to you. 

You nod, slipping your hand into the crook of his arm. You keep your gaze to the floor as he escorts you through the crowd of guests, who part like water for you and Mingyu, their scandalised eyes following every step.

“Did you see how she dismissed Prince Moon?”

“Bold… or foolish.”

“The King and Queen will not be pleased with this, certainly.”

You clench your jaw, trying to fight off the burn threatening to rise in your cheeks from their remarks. Mingyu doesn’t say anything yet, but the protective way he keeps you close to him is louder than any of their words. 

He leads out the grand side doors, down the torchlit corridor where you walk past the watchful eyes of your painted ancestors on the walls. The farther you travel away from the ballroom, the fainter the music becomes, and the more you feel like you can breathe again. 

Mingyu shuts the door behind you when you enter the grand library. The entire room had been cleared because of the ball taking place. Towering shelves of books stretch out endlessly before you, the smell of old ink and parchment lingering through the air. You always come here whenever you wanted to escape𑁋you forget at times that it’s still part of the palace. A quieter and vulnerable part of your world.

The books you’ve read here never judged you. 

Your shoulders drop to the floor before you realise how long you’ve been holding them up.

“I think I may have ruined everything,” You admit quietly after a long while of silence. “I feel as if I may have jeopardised my title, my status, and yet… I do not feel sad about it, but𑁋”

“𑁋relieved?”

You blink back at Mingyu in surprise. 

“Yes,” You finish. “Relieved, strangely.”

Mingyu tilts his head skeptically. He steps up into the space right next to you, where your eyes are roaming over the books on the walls.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he begins, clearing his throat soundly. “I believe that you were the most radiant one up there.” 

A choked laugh bubbles out of you despite everything. “Even if I humiliated myself in front of the entire court?”

“Especially then, princess.”

“You are just saying that to make me feel better, you liar,” You accuse teasingly. 

“Lying would be against my oath,” he remarks, the corners of his mouth twitching up in amusement. “I have been nothing but truthful during our times together, my lady.”

The banter has always been easy between the two of you, you realise. The burdens and scrutiny waiting on the other side of the door feel less frightening to face when you know Mingyu is right by your side. You know that at any moment, this temporary peace could be ruined and you’d be exiled back to your duties𑁋or worse, exiled from the kingdom because of the scrutiny. 

Mingyu’s eyes roam over the quiet reflection on your face, and he feels his heart ache in his chest. 

“Come here, princess.”

You lift a puzzled brow. “What𑁋”

Before you can finish, he’s wrapping his armoured arm your waist and drawing you into his hold. The cool metal of his gauntlet presses gently on your lower back, and before you know it, you find yourself swaying together in the middle of the dead-silent library.

“No music,” he points out with a fond smile. “Just us.”

There’s no grand chandelier above your heads, no judging nobles or entitled princes. There’s only the soft glow of lanterns, moonlight filtering in through tall windows, and Mingyu’s presence wrapped around you. It feels more intimate than anything else. 

“You are terrible at this,” You say playfully, even while resting your cheek on his breastplate. “The armour makes you clunky.”

A huff of amusement leaves him. “Forgive me. I am a knight, not a dancer.” 

“It is alright,” You reassure him calmly. “Follow my lead.”

He does𑁋well, he tries to𑁋and there’s something so endearing seeing a man so formidable fumble a little when attempting to move with you. But after a few more turns, his movements become surprisingly graceful when he allows himself to stop overthinking about it. 

You lead him in slow, sweeping circles across the grand library, your shared giggles ringing out into the room when his armour accidentally clips one of the shelves a little too harshly. At one point, he spins you smoothly and dips you down, one arm secured at your waist while the other supports your back. Your circlet glints under the moonlight as your head tilts back.

He holds you there for a heartbeat longer than necessary, gazing down at you with such open adoration that you almost forget that no one else is watching you now. But when he pulls you back upright again, your faces are only a breath away from each other. Your breaths hitch at the same time from the closeness.

The world suddenly narrows. His scent fills all of your senses, and the way his dark eyes drop down to your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by you, as if it was only ever meant for you. 

You rise on your toes instinctively, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. If you lean in a fraction closer, your mouths would meet in a soft yet long overdue𑁋

The heavy doors of the library slam open with a force enough to make the surrounding bookshelves tremble. Mingyu reacts faster than thought, spinning you around so that his body is a protective wall between you and the intruders. His hand flies down to the handle of his sword even as recognition hits him. 

Three elite guards step into the room with their expressions hardened. The captain strides forward, eyes narrowing between the two of you.

“By royal decree of the King and Queen,” he announces authoritatively. “Her Highness is to return to her chambers at once.”

Mingyu’s face turns molten. “She is under my protec𑁋”

“Stand down, knight. Consider this a warning for your actions tonight,” the captain spits back harshly. “There will be far worse consequences than a reprimand if you overstep your duties.”

Mingyu’s body visibly tenses, but he offers a stiff, obedient bow of his head. “Understood, Captain.”

The captain nods curtly, then gestures to his men. The two other guards step forward and take hold of your arms, already urging you to the door. 

“Mingyu𑁋” Your voice cracks as you twist your head back to look at him.

He takes one unconscious step forward, his hand twitching at his sword, but the captain’s warning glares stop him cold. 

The heavy doors slam shut behind you, cutting him off from view. The corridor feels colder without him. 

Your chambers is quiet, almost too quiet.

The heavy velvet curtains had been drawn tight that not even moonlight can spill inside to grant you peace, and only a few candles flickered on your bedside table, casting long, almost taunting shadows across the cold stone walls of your bedroom. You find yourself sitting on the edge of your bed in your nightgown, with your knees up to your chest and your arms wrapped loosely around them.

No matter what, sleep refuses to come. After the ball had ended, you were banished immediately to your chambers by your mother’s icy command, her parting voice still ringing in your ears about how you had embarrassed the entire kingdom in one single night. 

Yet it’s not your mother’s voice that disturbs your sleep, not entirely at least. Rather it’s Prince Moon’s vile words. His words about your title, your autonomy, your maidenhood. You know that you shouldn’t allow his words to affect you as much as it does, but your mind can’t help but wander. All your life, your maidenhood has been treated like nothing but a transaction. A part of you that you always owed for alliances and bloodlines, not out of love. Never has anyone asked what you wanted. 

Your thighs press together underneath your nightgown, a restless kind of heat blooming low in your stomach. For years, you resigned yourself to this untimely fate; but tonight, after rejecting all the princes so publicly, you decide that this is the night where you would finally choose yourself. 

Anxiety throbs beneath your ribs as you rise from the bed and cross the room with bare feet. You pause right before the heavy oak door, fingers hovering over the latch. This is lunacy that you’re about to commit, but the fire in your veins refuses to be quelled by reason tonight. Opening the latch, you crack the door open enough to catch one of the maids passing by in the corridor.

“Hyejin!” You whisper-yell into the dark hallway.

The girl startles from your voice, her lantern swinging around when she turns to the sound. She glances both ways before rushing to your side with a silent bow. She has always been loyal and discreet, and knew better than to question odd requests at odd hours.

“Yes, Your Highness?” she asks hushedly.

“Find Sir Mingyu at once,” You instruct her urgently. “Tell him that I require his immediate presence. And do not notify a soul, please.”

Hyejin’s eyes widen fractionally, but she merely nods. “Of course, my lady. I shall return with him swiftly.” She spins on her heel and vanishes into the shadows of the hallway like a ghost. 

You shut the door and lean back against it, pressing a hand to your racing heart. The minute that drag feels like an eternity. Your legs pace around the room in anticipation, straighten your already-flawless blush-colour coverlet on your bed, adjust the candles, then you sit again only to stand once more.

Doubts swarm your head like storm clouds. What if he refuses? What if we are discovered? What if I am𑁋what if we are both𑁋ruined forever? But beneath all your worries burned a defiant need. You wanted this. You wanted him.

When three measured knocks land at your door minutes later, your breath catches in your throat. Pursing your lips tightly, you approach the door and unlatch it carefully. The door creeps open slowly, before a pair of heavy footsteps slips inside. 

The world suddenly fades into complete silence when Mingyu closes to the door behind him with a soft click and slides the bolt into place. He’s still in his ceremonial armour from the ball, the intricately engraved steel shimmering like stars under the candlelight and the red cape behind him flowing down to the floor like a waterfall. 

Mingyu’s ready eyes sweeps across your chambers naturally as he strides in your direction𑁋from the high curtains that drape down to the ground, to your heavy wardrobe, to even beneath your four poster bed𑁋to spot any kind of danger that might be lurking. It’s only when he finds nothing does he allow his gaze to settle back on you.

“Princess,” he calls worriedly, catching the distraught expression on your tired features. “What is the matter? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head diffidently. 

“No.”

“Did Her Majesty𑁋”

“No.”

Mingyu falls silent.

“Then why have you summoned me at this hour, my lady?” he asks, more softer this time. 

You hesitate, fingertips digging carelessly into the thin fabric of your nightgown. The words you rehearsed in your head suddenly feel too bold and dangerous.

This is it. There is no going back now.

“I… I want you to teach me,” You admit shakily. 

Mingyu blinks, arching up a thick brow. “Teach you?”

“About… pleasure.” 

The colour drains from his face almost instantly, before a deep flush creeps up his neck that you see hidden in the shadows of his gorget. He takes an instinctive step back, the metal of his greaves scraping against the floor. 

“I-I beg your pardon, princess?” he coughs out flusteredly, his voice coming out rougher than expected. 

The weight of your words hit you, but you refuse to let your courage crack anymore. You step up toward him until the tips of your feet barely graze his boots, closing the distance he tries to create. Even through his breastplate, you feel the heat radiating off him. It helps to ease your nerves only slightly.

“I want you to teach me…” You begin nervously. “...how to have sex.” 

Mingyu’s breath hitches audibly, his composed mask shattering entirely. His gaze turns dark as he fights the battle raging in his head right now: honour clashing with desire, duty against the tug of his heart. A shiver runs through his tall frame. He attempts to force his attention elsewhere, pretending this was nothing but his imagination, yet your request has permanently imprinted itself in his mind and… and he cannot deny that this is reality. 

Gods, the thought alone has him aching already. 

“Princess, I𑁋do you understand what you are asking me right now?” A pensive look washes over his face. “I am your sworn knight. You cannot… say such things to me. If anyone were to find out, we would both be punished before our next breath.” 

But even as those words leave his mouth, he betrays himself regardless. His hands flex at his sides, fighting the urge to reach out to you. 

You reach up to brush a path over his chest, and he sighs in restraint as if your hand burns him. 

“You are my sworn knight, Sir Mingyu,” You repeat, guiding your hand up until it rests on his warm chin. “The only man I trust the most in this world. With my life, with my heart, and now… my body.” A sharp heat prickles beneath your eyelids. “I do not care about the risks because I choose you. I always have. So I… I beg of you to show me what it is like to sully my virtue. Please.” 

Nothing but desire flashes through his thoughts. Mingyu rests his armoured hand over yours that’s on his chest and leans down to rest his forehead on yours. You both breathe each other in for a moment, his warmth breath grazing upon your lips.

That is, until he sinks to his knees, peering up at you with nothing but unyielding devotion, with your hand still in his. The position alone makes heat flood into your core𑁋seeing your powerful knight on his knees before you. 

“I am yours to command tonight, my princess,” he says, pressing a vowing kiss to each knuckle on your hand which sends sparks up your spine. “And I will show you what it is like to be worshipped so sweetly… that you forget every cage duty has tried to force on you.” 

Before you can speak, Mingyu flips your hand over to trace his lips over the pulse point at your wrist, never breaking eye contact with you. Slowly, he trails higher to kiss along the sensitive skin of your forearm, to the crook of your elbow, and one at your shoulder. Then he rises back to his feet, cups your cheek with a gauntleted hand, and begins to lean in. 

Your eyes squeeze shut naturally, your body bracing for the first real kiss. But Mingyu teasingly pauses just short of your mouth, a smile forming at his lips as he relishes the sight of your features up close for the first time. 

He mutters something along the lines of beautiful before claiming your lips. 

Mingyu kisses you slowly at first, learning the shape of your mouth, then it grows needier as you part your lips for him. His tongue brushes against yours tentatively, never demanding more unless he knows you want it. Your fingers curl desperately on the edges of his armour while the world tilts around the two of you. 

“I have yearned for the taste of your lips for years, my lady,” he whispers against your mouth, gripping your waist a little tighter. “To have you now is truly… a privilege I will never take for granted.” 

He begins to shed his armour with his mouth never leaving yours once, stripping his gauntlets and the heavy pauldrons on his shoulders until they fall uselessly to the floor. Piece by piece, the barriers between your bodies disappear𑁋the breastplate, the vanbraces around his forearms, the gorget on his neck𑁋leaving him in only his linen undershirt and breeches. 

Your impatient hands roam underneath his shirt, caressing over the strong planes of his chest. Mingyu chuckles at your eagerness and pulls off his shirt entirely, letting it join the pile of steel on the floor. You pull away from him to just admire in awe. 

Moonlight may have been kinder to the sight of him, but the candlelight illuminates him even more. His broad shoulders hold strength and the faint scars across his defined chest and abdomen make him appear more real. More yours. 

You trace over the line of an old battle scar beneath his collarbone. His body tenses from your touch.

“You are staring, princess,” Mingyu murmurs amusedly, though his cheeks are flushed. He strokes your lower lip with a fingertip. “Do I please you?”

“More than I can say,” You say with a soft smile. “My knight is… quite ravishing to the eyes.”

A boyish grin tugs at his mouth. He nuzzles his face into your neck. 

“Ravishing, am I?” he muses playfully, lips brushing against the skin there. “Then I suppose I must live up to my title, my love.” 

Without a second thought, he lifts you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing. A surprised giggle escapes you before it is swallowed down by another deep kiss. He carries you a few steps toward your grand bed. The velvet coverlet feels cool against your back when he lays you down carefully, his large body hovering over yours. 

His hands slip under your nightgown and chemise, his calloused hands caressing over your thighs. 

“May I take this off, princess?” he asks, dark eyes searching yours for any hesitation. 

“Yes,” You breathe out, clutching weakly at his shoulders.

Mingyu slowly draws the fabric upward. The cool air of the room kisses over the sensitive skin of your legs. You lift your hips up to help him, and he peels the gown over your waist, your breasts, and finally over your head. It flutters to the floor like a discarded flower petal, leaving you in only your thin chemise. The candlelight almost makes it appear translucent.

His fingers toy with the straps of your chemise, glancing back up at you for permission again. When you give him a small nod, his face softens with such tenderness it makes you far too shy to maintain eye contact as he peels the delicate lace down your body. Shivers run up and down your skin, not from the cold but from the weight of his stare. Like you’re the only star in the sky. 

His throat bobs visibly.

“Fuck, princess…” Mingyu curses, letting his hands glide up your sides before resting on the underside of your breasts. He caresses over one gently with his large palms, taking your nipple between his fingertips, causing you to let out a soft moan. “You are an art piece… crafted with perfection by the heavens themselves. Untouched by the world, but allowing her knight to ruin so sweetly.”

He leans down to capture your nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly while his free hand plays with the other. Your body arches needily against his, and the velvety heat of his tongue has you clenching around nothing. He continues his journey downwards, his mouth tracing a path of fire between the valley of your breasts and lower over your stomach, stopping when he reaches your mound. 

Mingyu spreads your legs a little wider, groaning when he notices how wet you already are. 

“Gods above, look at you.” He strokes soothingly along the inside of your thigh, settling between your legs more comfortably. “Your sweet little cunt is weeping for attention. May I taste you, my lady? This will be your first lesson in pleasure.”

You nod urgently, already digging your hands into the silk sheets of your bed.

With a grateful smile, Mingyu leans in and presses an open-mouth kiss to your folds. You jolt at the wet contact, but he grips your hips firmly to hold you in place. “Easy, sweet girl. Stay open for me. Let me devour this innocent pussy…”

He drags the flat of his warm tongue from your entrance and up to the little swollen bud at the top. 

“This pretty pearl right here is your clit.” He teasingly circles his tongue around the sensitive nub, before sealing it in his mouth with a loud suck that echoes off the walls of your chambers. “So sensitive… You taste like the sweetest, most forbidden nectar.”

You cry out a whimpered gasp when he sucks it more firmly, the pleasure striking you hard like lightning. Your hands find their way into his dark hair, burying him into you even more. Mingyu grunts at the sensation and doubles on his efforts, switching between gentle sucks and rapid flicks of his tongue on your pussy, keeping his eyes solely locked on the way your face twists with pleasure. 

When he pulls away for a breath, you look down and the sight nearly destroys you𑁋Mingyu, your loyal knight, between your legs with his lips glistening with your wetness. 

“May I… put a finger inside you, my lady?” he asks breathlessly, hot breath fanning against your slick folds. “Just one for now. Only if you want, princess.”

“Yes,” You sigh out, trembling with need. “I want it, please…”

Mingyu kisses your knee appreciatively and returns to your aching core. At the same time, he teases a thick finger at your entrance and coats it with your arousal, before gently pushing inside. Your body welcomes him instantly. 

The stretch is foreign to you, but he works it through you thoroughly. He curls his finger in an upward motion that has your walls fluttering around him. The simultaneous sensation of his tongue and fingers makes you grip his hair even tighter and your hips to grind against his face. 

“Mingyu, it feels so good…”

“Mmmh, good girl,” he praises sweetly, voice muffled against you. “Let me add a second one, yeah? To stretch you more open for me…” 

He works another thick finger alongside the first. The burn between your legs melts away the brief discomfort of the stretch into pure heat. His fingers thrust in and out of you at a steady rhythm as his mouth continues lapping at your pussy. Your loud, broken moans bounce off the walls of the chambers as the pleasure builds rapidly, your hips practically riding his face.

Mingyu growls when he feels your thighs start to tremble harshly around his head. 

“That’s it, my love,” he murmurs hotly against your dripping cunt. “Give me your pleasure, your first ever orgasm from a man who yearns for you…”

“Fuck, I𑁋Mingyu𑁋!”

Pleasure explodes through you like wildfire. A blissful cry of his name rips out of your throat, your back arching sharply off the bed as your walls clamp down tightly around his fingers. Your hips jerk against his face, riding the waves while he continues licking and sucking, drinking in every drop of your release. 

He slows when your moans turn into soft, overstimulated whimpers and your thighs fall open in exhaustion. With one final kiss to your swollen folds, he withdraws his fingers and hovers back above you. His heart squeezes with pride when looks down at your flushed, trembling body. 

“You are enchanting when you let go, my princess,” he says before kissing you deeply, and you taste yourself on his tongue. “I could spend the rest of my days between your legs and never tire.”

A subtle shift of his body has you feeling the heavy outline of his hardening cock through his breeches. Mingyu inhales sharply when you roll your hips against his once, his ears red with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. 

“I… fuck𑁋we do not have to, sweetheart,” he mutters, though the way he’s involuntarily grinding on you says otherwise. “You have given me so much than I deserve tonight, and I would rather die than cause you pain.”

You cup his cheek tenderly, grazing over his cheekbone. A fresh wave of nerves and desire twists in your belly.

“I want to,” You whisper. “I ache for it, Mingyu. Please… make love to me.” 

Something in him shatters at that, as if his last thread of restraint snaps into two. His eyes fall shut for a moment, nostrils flaring at your plea. When they open, his eyes have darkened with hunger, and he leans in to capture your lips with a kiss so deep it knocks the air out of your lungs. His large body pins you deeper into the bed, the heat of his bare chest searing against your skin. 

Mingyu pulls away just long enough to shove his breeches down his thighs, kicking them away. Your eyes widen when his cock springs free𑁋thick and heavy, curled slightly with a glistening tip already leaking for you. It’s your first time ever seeing a man this undeniably aroused for you. He’s so beautiful and intimidating that you can’t help but just stare. 

He notices your wide-eyed expression and lets out a shy, self-conscious chuckle.

“Have I frightened you?” he questions worriedly.

You shake your head. “No… You’re… big. I did not expect…” The words die on your tongue, but hungry curiosity sparkles in your eyes. 

Tentatively, you reach down to touch his length, and his cock twitches harshly from your touch. He’s impossibly hard, the skin smooth and hot as you wrap your hand around him to stroke him experimentally from the base to the tip. A low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest. 

“Shit…” he moans out, his hips jerking into your touch before realising it. “You do not have to𑁋fuck, your hand feels like magic𑁋”

You watch in awe as another bead of precum leaps from the tip. Emboldened, you swipe your thumb over it, spreading it down his shaft. Mingyu’s head falls forward into your shoulder, his breaths coming out in hot pants. 

“Easy, my love,” he warns, catching your wrist and pinning it to the bed beside your head, your fingers lacing together. “If there is a next time, you may touch me as you please. But for now… I need to be inside you.”

Mingyu uses his other hand to guide his cock to your entrance, rubbing the flushed head along your soaked and sensitive folds. He doesn’t push inside just yet.

“Tell me again, princess,” he commands. “Tell me you want your knight to corrupt you.”

“I want you, please,” You plead longingly. “Make love to me. Fuck me. Claim me as yours.” 

That’s all it takes.

With a groan, he starts pushing inside. His cock is much thicker and hotter than his fingers were. You gasp from the intense stretch, your nails digging crescents into his biceps as your body struggles to take him. He pauses to give you time to adjust before burying himself even more until he’s fully inside of you, whispering soothing praises and peppering your face with kisses to distract you from the discomfort. 

“Gods above, I cannot believe… I am inside of you, my lady,” he mutters hoarsely. “So warm… so tight…”

When the burn eases away, you shift your hips into his and let out a small, needy whimper. That’s all the permission he needs. 

Mingyu thrusts into you with a slow pace, dragging his cock along your sensitive walls. This was a dream that plagued him every night𑁋a dream of finally having you to himself and not those wretched princes, loving you the way you deserve, ruining you for any other man, even if it’s only for a single night. A night that he will cherish to his very grave. 

His jaw clenches tightly as he tries to keep himself from losing control too fast, but it doesn’t help when your moans grace his ears like a symphony and the way your nails are raking red trails down his back spur him on even more. 

“Mingyu𑁋ah𑁋faster, please𑁋”

“Faster?” he repeats breathlessly. “As you command, my princess.”

Bracing his strong arms at your sides, he snaps his hips deeper, harder, into you. The bed creaks under the force of his movements, the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies shamelessly meeting reverberating throughout your chambers that you are sure someone can hear if they passed too close to the door, but the thought only sends a forbidden thrill through you. 

He swallows your moans with a devouring kiss as he continues to fuck you. One hand grips your thigh higher to hit that sensitive spot inside of you, and it sends that familiar pleasure to tighten in your stomach once again. 

You embrace your arms around his neck. “I’m close, Mingyu𑁋”

“Gods𑁋fuck, me too,” he says into your sweat-slicked skin, but his pace starts faltering. “But I have to… shit, I have to slow down, princess𑁋I cannot cum inside of you. I cannot ruin your future…”

Mingyu starts to pull back, but you feel the strain in him, the way his body is refusing to comply with how he slows his thrusts. But you don’t let him stray away; instead, you tighten your arms around like a vice, keeping every thick inch of him sheathed inside your cunt. 

“No, do not pull away,” You pant in his ears, fingers greedily threading into his damp hair. “I need you, Mingyu𑁋I do not care about the consequences. I choose this. I choose you. Fill me up, my loyal knight. I beg you…”

Something raw and possessive bursts out of him at your desperate pleas, his eyes flashing with overwhelming love and hunger. He curses lowly to himself, as if hoping the heavens won’t hear the sin he is about to commit, before driving back into you roughly, giving into everything he’s held back. 

“You will damn us both… and yet I cannot deny you ever,” he pants into your neck. “Your knight obeys… always. Take me, my love𑁋cum for me. Now.” 

Your second orgasm crashes into you harder than the first. Waves of ecstasy whiten your vision, your body arching off the bed as you clench around his cock one final time. The feeling of your release sends Mingyu over the edge completely. He buries himself inside of you, filling you to the brim with thick ropes of his heat. He grinds slow and deep through both of your orgasms, pushing every drop as far in you as possible.

Mingyu doesn’t pull out of you yet for several long moments. He cages your trembling form in his arms as if he’s afraid the world might tear you apart if he lets go. He presses kisses along the column of your throat and up to your jaw, then to your swollen lips, lingering a little longer than usual. Only then does he draw away to peer down at you with glassy, vulnerable eyes. 

“I love you, my princess,” he confesses quietly. “I have loved you silently for years, since the first day I swore my oath to protect you. I have always adored your resilience, your beauty… among many other things.” 

Your blink sleepily up at him, your heart swelling at his words.

“I love you too, Sir Mingyu,” You whisper back, nestling your nose against his. “I always knew that my heart belonged to you, too.”

A soft, boyish smile crosses his lips, the kind that always made your stomach flutter during daylight hours when no one was watching. After some time, he coaxes himself out of you with a grunt, a generous trickle of his release coating your thighs and the sheets beneath you. His gaze darkens at the sight, but he does not push for more.

He rolls himself onto his back and wraps his arms around your middle, letting your head rest on his broad chest. One of his hands soothingly traces shapes on your spine while the other brushes through your disheveled hair. 

“Stay with me tonight,” You mutter into his skin. “Do not leave before dawn. I wish to wake up in your arms just once.”

“I will never abandon you, my love,” Mingyu assures you, tightening his hold on you. “But we must prepare ourselves for what the morning light will bring. If your parents find out𑁋”

“What if we run away together?”

Mingyu freezes at that. A shadow of conflict rises in his features, but there’s something else there too𑁋something dangerously close to hope.

“You cannot mean that, princess,” he tells you. “It is not so easy. You know that.”

“I do mean it,” You say back stubbornly. “I know I will never be forgiven for rejecting every prince at the ball. Gods, they will probably sell me off to the highest bidder by the end of the week. But I do not want a crown if it means being stuck in a loveless marriage. I want a life with you, Mingyu. A life where we can love freely and perhaps… build a family one day.”

He can imagine it so clearly: a life with the two of you in some hidden cottage in the mountains or a village by the sea, where he can wake up to your smile in the mornings and worship you into the depths of the night without fear or duty holding him back. A life with a little one𑁋or more, if you wish𑁋running around. A child who holds your tenacity and wields his softness. 

“You tempt me more than any devil, my love,” he proclaims, nuzzling his face into your hair. “But running away now without a plan would put you in greater danger. If we do this… we must be smart. Find allies and gather belongings. Perhaps… in a few months time, when the storm of tonight has settled.”

You pout lightly. “So we wait?”

“For now,” he says, kissing the tip of your nose. “But know this𑁋I am yours. If you wish to run, I will follow you to the ends of the earth and lay down everything for a chance at a life with you. I promise you that.”

The weight of his promise settles warmly in your chest more than the exhaustion crawling through your bones. You rise in his hold to kiss him deeply and unhurriedly, before allowing him to hold you.

“Rest now,” Mingyu orders softly when you part, tucking you into his side once more. “The world is still asleep. Let me hold you while I can. Tomorrow we face the wolves… but tonight, you are simply mine as I am yours, my angel.”

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"Whatever,” Mingyu rolls his eyes as they come to stand at the front door either side of Wonwoo. 

"Well. Open it then,” 

"Oh noooooow you're not so brave!” 

"I just think it's your penthouse, you should open the door." 

“Mingyu," Jeonghan turns to his friend, “open the door." 

“Why me?!" 

“You've got the straighteners." 

“And you're built like a house." Wonwoo chimes in. 

“And what’ll happen when you give me a complex huh? Who'll be the butt of your jokes then?” 

"Still you.” 

"Just open the door Mingyu!” Jeonghan barks, clearly having had enough of his two best friends come roommates. 

"Alright! There's no need to shout!” 

He wraps his hand around the doorknob, taking a deep breath as his two friends shift awkwardly on their feet, dreading whatever is behind the door. Because nothing good ever comes of unannounced guests at three in the morning. 

Mingyu flings the door open and they all frown, there's nobody there? Had they spent so long arguing that whoever it was walked off in boredom? Or it was just some kids messing about? But this is the penthouse of one of the most exclusive buildings in the city, you can't get up here without a code. 

A babbling shocks them though. 

“Is that?" 

“What the hell?" 

“Is that a……” 

A baby's giggle makes them all jump back. 

"How did it ring the buzzer?” Mingyu whispers to Wonwoo. 

"There's a note idiot.” Jeonghan reaches down but pauses when he sees his name written on the envelope. 

“It knows your name?" Mingyu asks in wonder. 

"Did you go to school?” 

"Hey fuck you Wo…" he stops himself when he realises he's sworn in front of the baby. 

“Are you gonna, y’know, open it?" Wonwoo presses. 

“O-oh, yeah sure," 

His fingers shake as he opens the envelope, a weird feeling of doom hanging over him. 

Jeonghan, 

I don't even know what to write. I guess I should start with I'm sorry? I know we were nothing serious, I know I just stopped picking up your calls but I just didn't know what to do. 

I've tried Jeonghan, I really have but I can't do it. I can't be what she needs, I can't be what I need right now. 

I feel like I'm sinking and I can't take her down with me, she deserves someone, anyone other than me. 

Her name's Areum, she's two months old and she's yours. And don't worry, you have my full permission to do a DNA test. I wouldn't trust me either. I've put her favourite blanket and teddy bear in her bag, there's some formula too and some clean clothes. 

Just know that I tried. Please please know that I really did try my best for her. 

And tell her mommy loves her, I'm just doing what's best for her. My best was just never going to be good enough for her or anyone. 

I hope you'll both forgive me, 

______

“_____!" Jeonghan throws the note at Wonwoo and sprints to the elevator. 

He needs to find you, he needs to get to you. He knew it was weird you stopped picking up the phone but you're a free spirit, always have been ever since you both met at university. 

He should've kept calling, he should've hammered your fucking door down. 

You've had a baby, you've had his baby and you've done it all on your fucking own. Sure, it wasn't planned, you two just fooled around whenever you were drunk and single at the same time. It was reckless and stupid but you both got what you needed and so you didn't see a problem with it. But he'd never desert you, he'd never not step up to be what you and the baby needed. You're his friend and he loves you, he should've shown you that. Maybe then you wouldn't be in this state. 

He slams the button again and again until eventually the doors open and he rushes in. A part of him hoped you'd still be in here but it's just silence, so silent he feels like he can hear his heart beat. 

The doors open in the foyer and he was rushes out onto the street, his head in his hands as he looks up and down over and over again hoping to spot you disappearing into the distance.

But it's no use. 

You've already disappeared. 

You've disappeared and he's got no way of finding out if you're ok. 

What the fuck is he thinking he knows you're not ok but that only makes everything so much worse. He's not bothered you didn't tell him about the baby, he's not bothered you've had the baby at the moment, his concern is you and whatever state of mind you're in. 

But he knows he can't do anything about it at three in the morning. As soon as the hour is a bit more reasonable, he'll call your parents, he'll call your old school friends, fuck he’ll call the police if he has to. But he will make sure you're ok. He owes you that much. 

At some point his feet bring him back to his apartment, the door slams behind him and he finds his two best friends watching a baby he didn't know existed ten minutes, as it bounces in its carrier. 

“Did you find her?" 

“She's gone," 

“We'll find her Jeonghan, I promise." Mingyu squeezes his shoulder. 

“I don't know what to do," Jeonghan whispers, staring down at a baby that has his eyes. 

“We take care of her." Wonwoo mumbles. 

“_____ or the baby?" 

“Both." 

“Yoon Areum if you don’t get down here right now I’ll send Mingyu up there!” Jeonghan booms up the stairs. 

“What’s Mingyu gonna do, paint their nails together?” 

“He’s got a new thing where he pretends to cry because he realised she’ll do as she’s told then,” You tell Wonwoo as you sip your coffee. 

“That’s manipulation.”

“And you reading her the dictionary is child cruelty.” Jeonghan fires back as he pours pancake batter in the pan on the stove. 

“Excuse me? I think you’ll find that our daughter has the reading age of a high schooler.”

“She also has the reading tastes of an old lady,” 

“Jeonghan’s right, I found her reading Agatha Christie the other day.” 

“One of the greatest female writers of all time,” Wonwoo says proudly. 

“It’s about murder Wonwoo.” You deadpan. 

“Murder happens. It’s better she knows.” 

“She’s four!” Jeonghan spins round. 

“This is just another thing that they’re going to use against us,” you groan and rest your head on the kitchen island. 

Wonwoo and Jeonghan share a look. You’d been panicking, they all knew it. For the past almost four years you’ve all been living together at Jeonghan’s penthouse. You’d been friends for years but when you found out you were pregnant you just spiralled. Like massively spiralled. You shut everyone off, ashamed that you’d fucked up so much. Sure you weren’t a complete mess but you were in no way ready for a baby. You’d made an appointment, you were going to go to the clinic and the whole thing would be over. 

But when it came to it. You just couldn’t. You ran away from the clinic and away from everyone in your life. Even at the hospital, when you were giving birth, they pleaded with you to let them contact your parents or the father but you just wouldn’t. You were adamant this was your fuck up and you’d deal with it. 

And then she arrived, the most beautiful baby you’d ever seen in your life. You took her back to your apartment and then things just went from bad to worse. You couldn’t get out of bed, you couldn’t eat, you just couldn’t function and you knew you were letting her down. You weren’t even looking after yourself well enough that she had enough milk, she had to go onto formula and that was just another thing that showed you how shit a mother you were. No matter how many times the medical visitor said it was totally normal for some mothers not to be able to feed as well as others and not to blame yourself, you still did. You were letting her down. 

You brought her into this world and now you were letting her down. It was when she’d been crying for hours and you were sobbing on the floor that you knew you had to do something. It wasn’t loving her right to try and struggle through, it was loving her more to not be around her. You’d just ruin her life. You already were ruining her life. 

Your parents would help. You knew they would. They’re well off, you’d never wanted anything in life, hell they’d even let you live at home for years until your paintings finally started selling and you could sustain yourself. But if anything that made it worse. You came from a good family. You’d made yourself a more than comfortable life, you had enough money to do whatever you wanted which is pretty rare for a 26 year old. 

So if money and family and surroundings weren’t the reason you were struggling so much to give your baby what she needed. The only problem, the only common denominator in how shit life was for you and Areum. Was you. 

Jeonghan was a good man, you’d been friends for years and he had a good family. Better than good. One of the richest families in Korea though they were somehow a close knit loving family in spite of the money and power they had. They’d look after her. And that’s what she needed, people that loved her like you but weren’t fucking terrible at everything. 

It broke you to leave her. It broke you to see Jeonghan running after you. If he’d have just run down the stairwell instead of taking the elevator, he’d have found you. 

You wanted to walk away but you couldn’t. 

Not until you knew she was safe in his hands. 

The next day he sat outside your apartment until you finally answered, telling you that he had all the time in the world because Wonwoo and Mingyu were knee deep in diapers. Eventually you answered and he didn’t shout or scream. He just sat and listened and held you when you cried. By the end of that week you’d seen a doctor, your mom, Jeonghan’s mom and Jeonghan with you, as the doctor told you that none of it was your fault and you weren’t a bad mother. A bad mother would never wait to make sure her daughter was safe. A bad mother wouldn’t have realised how bad the situation was for you or the baby. They diagnosed you with post natal depression and you spent a couple of weeks with your parents.

The guys would bring Areum by every couple of days and between her smiling face and the chaos of the three men who had come to dote on her, you gradually got better. 

After a few weeks Jeonghan suggested you move in with them. He had more than enough room for you to have your own space and they’d even decided to turn the home gym into Areum’s bedroom for when she was old enough to sleep on her own. They’d bought everything they needed for a baby and more besides. And when you said you weren’t sure, all three of them descended on you saying it was what they all wanted. They wanted to be there and surely the more help, the better. 

You agreed and the rest is history. 

It wasn’t always easy but it worked. She had three men who would do anything for her, who you see in her ever flourishing personality and you’d managed to become the mother she deserved. It didn’t stop you doubting yourself or worrying about what people thought but with three of the best cheerleaders in the world on your side, life was good. A bit mad. But good. 

“He’s on the phone to Hyeji anyway, they’re probably going you hang up , no you hang up. There’s more chance of Ari throwing up than doing what she’s told.” 

“I like her! She’s been good for him!”

“I’m not saying she hasn’t, I just wish they didn’t live in two different countries, I’m sick of hearing them having phone sex.” 

You and Jeonghan grimace at that. 

Mingyu and his girlfriend met online. They’re vloggers. Or bloggers. Or….something to do with going to cafes and eating too much food on the internet. He makes decent money off it, even enough to pay Jeonghan all the rent he owed him over the years, but you’ve no idea how he makes money off just wandering around the city when it’s raining and then drinking an overpriced latte. But he’s happy and that’s all that matters. 

“When are you going to introduce us to your new girlfriend?” You turn on your stool to smirk at Jeonghan. 

“I don’t have one.” 

“Oh please, you’re always smiling at your phone.”

“Do you not think it’s weird to try and pimp out your baby daddy?” 

“Not at all, I’m just trying to get you to leave the house.” 

“It’s not my fault I’ve somehow become a maid for you three and our daughter. Talking of her, AREUM YOU HAVE TILL THREE OR I’M COMING UP THERE,” He marches off with his hands on his hips. 

“It’ll all be fine you know,” 

“I know it will you,” you sigh as you turn back to Wonwoo, “it’s just I know people will think it’s weird and I don’t really care about them, I just don’t want them to take it out on Ari.”

“Ari can handle herself.” Wonwoo nods, smiling. 

“I know but this is the first time she’s going to be around normal families,” 

“Hey, there is nothing normal. And she’s one of the most well adjusted, intelligent, beautiful little girls I’ve ever met. And I’m a doctor so I should know.” 

“You’re a heart surgeon,” you narrow your eyes at him, “how many kids have heart attacks?”

“It happens,” he shrugs, “but I see them in the hospital, roaming around the place like feral animals. She’s way better than other kids.” 

“I’m not sure you can say that,” 

“Well I did,” he takes a slice of toast as a flustered Jeonghan stomps back into the kitchen. 

“She wants Wonwoo to do her hair, apparently the way I do plaits is wrong.” 

“I am good with my hands,” Wonwoo beams, throwing his toast down as he rushes off to do your daughter's hair. 

He’s no idea what he’s just said or the road your mind is currently travelling down but Jeonghan smiles knowingly at you watching Wonwoo disappear up the stairs and goes back to making pancakes. 

“Why don’t you just tell him?” 

“Tell who what?” 

“Tell Wonwoo how you feel.” 

“He’s already asked me how I’m feeling today, it’s a big day, you’ve all asked me.” 

“Don’t get smart with me _____, I know you better than anyone.”

It’s true. He does. You’d realised pretty early on, probably before you even had Areum, that you and Jeonghan worked really well together. But it’s very much just as friends. It was just letting off steam whenever you had sex, like a weird situationship where you were best friends until you were both horny and then you were both just means to an end. 

It worked. There was no jealousy or arguing about other people because you knew you didn’t love each other like that. You did love each other but like he’s a family member. You loved that you both brought Areum into the world. And that’s lucky. Because couples break up all the time and ruin their kid’s lives. But you two are best friends raising your child with your two other friends and if anything, you feel more secure than you would in a relationship and raising a child. 

“What do you want me to say?” You whine quietly. 

“Tell Wonwoo….”

“Tell Wonwoo what?” The man himself jumps down the bottom step of the stairs whilst a very excited Areum runs at you. 

“Mommy! Can you please tell him that I wasn’t late. I’m right on time, we only start at 9am.” 

“I thought it was 8:30?” 

“That’s what mommy told you but it’s because you’re always late.” 

“Are you serious?!” Jeonghan spins round, almost knocking the pancakes off the counter. 

“You are always late.” You dismiss him. 

“You,” he points at his daughter with the spatula, “come here and eat these pancakes. I demand it.” 

“Is there syrup?” Ari asks, her hands on her hips, the complete double of her father.  

“Obviously. I’m not a monster.” 

“Ok then,” she giggles and Jeonghan scoops her up into his arms as they flip the last pancake. 

“What did you need to tell me?” Wonwoo asks softly as he sits back down. 

“O-oh!” Fuck you need to think of something convincing, “I er, I have an appointment at the hospital and it’s around lunch time.”

“Ok?” His eyebrows knit together, “It’s nothing serious is it? Anything I can do?” 

“No! No, it’s just a dermatologist appointment. Not that I have a rash or something! It’s just a follow up about some dry skin.” Fuck, shut the hell up ______. 

“Thanks for letting me know? I guess?” 

“I was going to ask if you wanted to grab lunch? What with me being there and you being there and us living together, y’know as friends.”

He sits in silence until you finish whatever bullshit is coming out of your mouth. 

“Sorry _____, I have plans for lunch.” 

Of course he fucking does. You weren’t even going to tell him you were going to the hospital, you’d be happily eating your breakfast if it wasn’t for fucking Jeonghan. 

“No problem!” You smile fakely and grab the jam. 

“We could…..” 

But you don’t hear Wonwoo’s gentle voice because Jeonghan launches a pancake so high into the air that it sticks to his ten foot ceilings and chaos ensues. 

The rest of the morning passes in a whirlwind of a messy kitchen, photos with all of you and Areum before her first day at school and then Jeonghan and Wonwoo trying to calm you and Mingyu down as you both bawl in the back of the car about how your baby is all grown up.

Why do they insist on putting the pharmacy in hospitals so far away from literally everything? You swear you've been round this hospital five times and it's not like you've not been following the signs, you have. 

You thought you'd finally found it. There seemed to be a gaggle of people huddled around and you presumed they were waiting for meds but instead you stumbled on the cafeteria.  

It is lunch time. And you have walked thirty four miles in search of the pharmacy so you don't suppose it'd hurt to get something to eat. You haven't got too long until you'll need to pick Ari up from school. You and Mingyu had said you'd go mainly because you've both been checking your phones every ten minutes in case she'd fallen to the ground in a fit of tears declaring she needed her mommy. But she hadn't, it was you that felt like you needed your mom. 

You settle on just grabbing a drink from the fridges. The place is packed and you won't be the person that takes the spot in the queue for food from an overworked doctor because you're bored and in a mood about pharmacies. 

Grabbing a soda and closing the door, you're ready to head to pay when you hear a name you know better than most. You don't know the voice speaking it, but you definitely know the name. 

You search through the tables, hoping to spot him. You know he said he was busy but surely he wouldn't object to you saying hello, you do raise a child together after all. 

Just how many tables are in this fucking cafeteria?! You can't spot him for shit, maybe you were wrong, maybe it wasn't his name. But then you spot him and you feel like throwing your bottle of soda at the man at the table in front of you. 

He's smiling, the same smile you love so much, at a woman. Yes, not the most damning of situations to find him in, but he's still laughing. And if anything they're sitting pretty close to each other. Too close in your opinion, they should be at least two metres away from each other to make it decent. It's just those two at the table and they're chatting and laughing and probably falling in love and forgetting you or Ari exist completely. 

You’re not sure why you're so pissed off but why hadn't he just said he had a date. They've all been on dates since you've lived there. You have one firm rule. They don't bring anyone into Areum’s life until they know they're serious about them. She doesn't need hundreds of people in her life and it confuses her.

It was a good rule. It worked. Not that you've ever used it, you haven't been on a single date since you had her. But it worked in general for you all as a family but right now? You'd quite like it if the rule was that none of them go out of the house except for work and even then they can't speak to anyone else that isn't you. 

Well. 

You're not so bothered about the rule for Mingyu and Jeonghan but for Wonwoo? No. He needs to be chained to his desk or something so this woman can't get near him. 

You need to get out of here, you can't risk him seeing you, fuck knows what you'd end up saying. It'd either be sobbing that you loved him or you'd aim the soda you've just put back in the fridge at his little girlfriend's head. 

You rush back to the car, you'll get your cream the doctor prescribed another time, and slam the door behind you. 

Why did you think he'd ever think of you as anything more than Areum’s mom? 

Thank fuck you didn't listen to Jeonghan. If you'd have told Wonwoo exactly how you feel and he turned round and said “Cool. Here's my girlfriend." You'd never be able to step foot out of your bedroom again. Ari would need to tell her friends that her mom was like a modern day Mrs Haversham and you'd just get little updates from Jeonghan through the door. 

You've no idea what takes over you. But you do something you swore you'd never do. You'd always claimed it was like wading through the depths of hell. 

But you do it anyway. 

You take out your phone. And you download tinder. 

"Does every breakfast need to be so dramatic?” Wonwoo groans, looking at you. But frowns a little when he realises you're not really paying attention to him. He likes your little chats whilst all the chaos unfolds around you both. 

"Ari, come here let me do your hair.” 

"Woowoo does my hair." 

“Just," you sigh, scratching your brow, “come here. He's eating his breakfast," 

“I don't mind……” 

"It's fine,” you don’t look at him and just turn Ari around when she comes over so you can do her hair. 

"I was thinking we could have burgers for dinner. I got some steak and I want to try the new mincer thing I bought.” 

"Yeeees!!!” Mingyu and Ari shout together. 

"I can't, I've got plans.” 

The three men stop eating their breakfasts and stare at you, the cereal from Mingyu’s spoon falling from his spoon. 

"With who?” 

"A friend.” You finish plaiting Areum’s hair and pat her bum to send her back to her chair. 

"I thought we were your friends.” 

“Yeah! What she said!" Jeonghan points at Ari, frowning at you. 

“I do have a life, Jeonghan." 

“Is it a new friend?" Mingyu asks bluntly. 

“I met them on that thing." You mumble, not really wanting to have this conversation in front of Ari. 

“What thing?" Wonwoo demands next to you, his face like thunder. 

“The thing where people meet new friends." 

They all share blank stares as Areum happily eats her cereal, her little legs swinging. 

"What?” 

"I met someone on tinder.” You say loudly and the silence that follows is palpable. 

"What's a tinder?” 

"It's, er, well,” shit you didn't want to just blurt that out, this is the first time you're using the dating rule and it's already going wrong, "it's….." 

“It's something you use to start a fire." 

“Why would mommy be starting fires?" 

“I won't be," you glare at Mingyu, why the hell would he mention fires to a four year old?! 

“You're going to start a fire with your new friend?" 

“I'm just going to dinner with my new friend honey, there's no fire." 

“Is she nice?" 

“Yeah," Wonwoo glares, Mingyu and Jeonghan lowering themselves slightly in their seats, “is she nice?" 

"Seems to be,” you shrug, not being drawn into admitting it's very much a man that you're going to dinner with. 

"I think it's nice you have a friend mommy. I made some friends at school and I really like them. I think your friends will make you happy like my friends make me happy.” 

"Hopefully,” 

"Can I come?” 

"Not this time honey, it's a fancy restaurant anyway, you won't like the food,” you tickle her tummy and make her giggle. 

"Does that mean you'll get to dress like a princess?” 

"I don't know, I haven't decided what to wear yet.” 

"I think,” she puts her spoon down and kneels up on her chair so she can lean over to you, her little hands on your cheeks, "you always look like a princess. And," she puts her head close to yours so she can whisper to you, “don't forget that I'm your best friend mommy." 

"I won't honey,” you take her little hands and place a kiss on each palm, "c’mon let's get you to school, if we hurry we can leave these three with all this mess.” 

"Good plan mommy,” she whispers back and runs off to get her stuff. 

"Soooooo,” Jeonghan says once Areum is out of earshot, "you're going on a date?” 

"Is that not allowed?” 

"I-it is!” Mingyu rushes to add in but throws a tentative glance at Wonwoo, "I just didn't know you were looking for that right now.” 

"I haven't been on a date since I had Ari. In fact it was probably like two years before that. And you three all see people, no matter how much you hide it. Or think you do.” 

They all frown at each other, Jeonghan rolling his eyes a little because he presumes you're talking about him and whoever you think he's seeing. 

"Just, be careful.” 

"Do you say that to Wonwoo or Mingyu?!” 

"_____,” he groans, "I'm just looking out for you!” 

"Well thanks,” you scrape your chair back and stand up to take your daughter to school, "but I'm 30 years old. I can't just watch everyone live their lives. What happens when you all get married and move out? I'll just be on my own!” 

"Who said anything about getting married?!” Jeonghan shouts after you but you ignore him. 

You're going on this date. Whether they like it or not. 

You're an idiot. If you were to look up the word idiot in the dictionary there'd just be a huge fucking picture of you holding a big sign that reads "here's the world’s biggest idiot.” 

Why did you think a date would be a good idea? Especially with someone who you've spent a grand total of forty hours talking to. But then when you subtract sleeping, panicking over what to reply and washing weird stains out of Ari's clothes, you'd probably spent closer to about two hours speaking to your date. 

And you wish you hadn't. 

Seokmin seemed nice enough when you matched with him. He was hot. He had a good job. He was the right age. But he spent the whole night laughing at everything you said. 

You're hilarious, or you and Areum think you are anyway, but you literally said "do you want some bread?” And he more or less started rolling around on the floor laughing. You've no idea if it was a nervous habit or whether he was just on really hard drugs that made him think the simplest word was the funniest thing he's ever heard. 

Whatever it was, when he dropped you home (around the corner because you didn't want this cackling creep to know where you lived), you vowed to delete tinder off your phone. 

On your short walk home, you've prepared yourself for life. 

You'll live your life painting, something you already do, but now you're a spinster you'll do it much more dramatically. You'll no longer paint landscapes, which is what you specialise in now. You'll become one of those artists that throws paint at things and then says it shows the bleak end that human civilization is heading for. 

And you'll buy a cat. Or a dog. Or maybe a farm. 

Jeonghan would probably take Areum, you've proved you can't look after her on your own. Fuck. You need to stop that, you can't start spiralling down that hole again because of this one set back. 

Areum can come with you to the farm. You can be that weird mother and daughter that live on the edge of a forest and scare people as they go for hikes. She’d like that. 

One thing is for sure, you're done dating. It isn't for you. You'll just have to wait until they've all got married, take the pitying looks from everyone as they see you gradually turn to peak eccentricity and then leave for your farm by the forest. 

You take a deep breath before you open the apartment door and then enter the code. Everyone will be in bed, it's pretty late. But it's just knowing that at some point you're going to have to tell them that it was all pointless, that you'd embarrassingly chosen the weirdest man you could to go on a date with. 

The apartment is dark other than a lamp they've left on for you and you head straight for the kitchen. You need a glass of wine and you didn't dare drink on your date for fear the laughing idiot made a move you weren't ready for. 

The fridge light makes you squint and you grab the wine, wondering whether weird old ladies prefer red or white. It's probably rosé.

The wine glugs as you pour it. And then glugs a bit more as you fill it perilously close to the top. 

“Bad night?" 

“Fuck!" You spill wine on the kitchen counter, “shit." 

“I’ve got it," Wonwoo rushes from his stool and grabs a cloth. 

“I didn't know you were there," you shake the wine off your hand and put the bottle back in the fridge. 

"Needed a glass of water,” 

You just hum and take your glass of wine. 

"Night then.” 

"Wait,” you stop on your way to your bedroom, "do you not want to talk about it?” 

"There's nothing to talk about. It was a date.” You still don't turn to look at him. 

"Have I done something to upset you?” 

"No.” 

"Then why won't you turn around?” 

"I'm going to bed.” 

"Was he cruel or something?” 

"Nope, it was fine." 

You hear him sigh but you can't face him. It's fucking embarrassing knowing they're all moving on in life and you're stuck where you are. 

“Goodnight," you mumble quietly and rush off to your room. 

Wonwoo watches you go. He doesn't understand what's going on or why you've suddenly decided to download tinder. But hopefully, eventually, one of them can figure it out. 

It turns out you were wrong. That photo of you in the dictionary with your big sign declaring yourself the world’s biggest idiot is now wrong. You now need a sign that reads “the universe’s biggest idiot” because as you lie on your daughter’s bed, your head pounding and your whole body cringing in horror, you can’t think of a single thing you’ve done that’s made you feel as horrible or as guilty as you do now. 

Last night: 

“Do you think I need to ring your mom again? 

“No,” Jeonghan sighs. 

“My mom?” 

“_____ seriously she’s only gone for two nights and she’s with all of her grandparents, if anything she won’t even remember we exist.” 

“You don’t think she loves us?”

“Why are you always such a whiney drunk?”

“I used to be a horny drunk but look where that got us.” 

“I don’t think we’ve done too badly,” Jeonghan smiles as he leans against the kitchen counter with you. 

“True,” you knock your beer back and squint into the distance, “do you know any of these people? I swear I only know Wonwoo in that whole crowd.” 

“Nope. But Mingyu’s happy and he’s stopped crying because he’s turning thirty so I’ll happily take the loud music and an apartment full of strangers.” 

You hum and take another sip of your drink. 

“Why didn’t you bring someone?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he smirks at you. 

“I haven’t got anyone to bring.” You turn away from him, your eyes drifting to Wonwoo who's trying to leave the little makeshift dance floor before Mingyu makes him dance with him again. 

“Me neither.” 

“Why do you keep doing that? I know you’re seeing someone, why can’t you just tell me?” 

“I’m…..Fuck…..” He looks at the ceiling with worried eyes. 

“Do I know her or something?”

“It’s…..It’s not a she.” 

If you weren’t four beers in, your brain might not need quite so long to catch up with what he’s just said. But you’ve always been a light weight which means Jeonghan has to wait awkwardly whilst you realise what he’s just said. 

“A he?” You turn to him fully, putting your beer down. 

“Hm-mm,” He looks down. 

“Is he nice to you?” 

“What?” He frowns. 

“Is he kind?” 

“Yes?” 

“Good.” You nod, “That’s all that matters.”

“That’s it?” 

“Jeonghan, I just want you to be happy. If you’ve realised that happiness is with a man, then that’s great.”

“You’re the first one I’ve told. I’ve wanted to tell you for weeks.” He says like he’s had the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“I knew you were up to something,” You narrow your eyes at him and poke his chest, “I love you Jeonghan.”

He pulls you in for a hug mumbling an “I love you too” with a roll of his eyes. It’s clear he’s been worrying about telling you, or even anyone, about who he was seeing but why, you don’t know. 

“Thank you _____,” 

“What for?” You ask into his shoulder. 

“Everything. I’ve got the most beautiful little girl and an amazing life. Just. Thank you. For trusting me all those years ago.”

“And I’m the whiney drunk?” You pull back to look at him. 

“I guess we both lost our drunk horniness.” He chuckles as you both lean back against the counter with your drinks. 

You wait what you hope is an acceptable amount of time before you ask what you really want to know. 

“Is he hot?” 

“So fucking hot.” He high fives you. 

“SHOTS. COME ON YOU TWO!” 

“Do we have to?” 

“He isn’t going to leave us alone if we don’t.” Jeonghan grumbles and drags you over to the party. 

----------------

You’ve had far too much to drink. Everyone has had far too much to drink. Some idiot decided that playing spin the bottle was a great idea and when you, Jeonghan and Wonwoo said absolutely not, you’re not seventeen years old, you got forced into the circle anyway. 

The bottle missed you every time thankfully but when it was your turn to spin the bottle of dread, it landed on the one person you didn’t want. Because of course it did. 

The bottle landed on Wonwoo and even through your drunken haze you could see he wasn’t impressed. Handily. Right at the second you’d tried to make your way over to him, he got a phone call from the hospital he couldn’t miss. 

Because what’s more embarrassing than playing spin the bottle at thirty years old? Playing spin the bottle at thirty years old and the recipient of your impending kiss literally running away from you. 

The game finishes and you’re more than a little drunk and you’re more than a little pissed off. 

You’re going to find that gorgeous ass hole of man and you’re going to defend your own honour. 

You march around the apartment until you finally find him, trying to sort the trash out. 

“Wonw-woo,” you stammer, swaying towards him. 

“Hey! I wondered where you’d got to!” He smiles. 

You want to punch him. How dare he smile at you like he smiled at that woman.

“I’m not the one who ran off!” 

“What do you mmmpf,” 

He doesn’t have a chance to answer you. You throw yourself at him, your lips smacking into his more like you’re attacking him than kissing him. If you were sober you’d see his wide eyes and arms flailing around so he doesn’t fall. But you don’t because you’re more interested in kissing him with so much force that his lips will be too sore to show that smile you love so much to anyone else other than you. Your hands hold his cheeks as you lose yourself for what feels like an hour but is probably more like a few seconds and then finally release him. 

“What the…….”

“I’m gonna be sick,” You manage to get out before you run off to the bathroom. 

So that’s how you find yourself here. The day after Mingyu’s thirtieth birthday party, on your daughter’s bed and avoiding the world outside of these four walls. You’ve no idea why you’d decided to spend the day in her room. You woke up, had a shower and then the flashbacks started and you felt yourself folding in on yourself. You weren’t just embarrassed, you were fucking mortified. 

It’s probably because her room is literally like being in the clouds. You’d spent weeks painting clouds on the walls and ceiling when she was ready for her own room. 

It was relaxing to some extent and it felt like she was near to you, cuddling by your side and telling you about her day. Instead of it just being you in your cave of embarrassment. 

The door creaks open and all you can think is that you hope it’s not Wonwoo. 

It’s obvious why he didn’t want to kiss anyone. It’s obvious why he pretended he had a phone call. Maybe not obvious to everyone who doesn’t know he’s seeing someone but you did. And in your stupid drunken state you kissed him anyway and you feel fucking terrible. You know he would never be the kind to cheat, he must be feeling fucking awful. He probably hates you and he’d have every reason to. 

Such a stupid, selfish thing to do to a man who has only ever shown you and Areum kindness and warmth. 

“Hey,” Jeonghan’s head pokes through the door with Mingyu’s head just above it, “can we come in?” 

“Sure.” You keep staring at the ceiling with your head on your daughter’s pillow. “Do you have to do that!” 

“What?! How else do you want me to lie down?” Mingyu glares down at you as he clambers over you so he’s between you and the wall. 

Is nothing sacred? Now you’ve got Mingyu on one side and Jeonghan on the other, all three of you staring at the ceiling on Areum’s single bed. 

“This bed isn’t built for three. You're barely on it."

“Well if you’d mope in your own room, we’d have more space wouldn’t we.” Jeonghan scolds you.  

“What’s going on?" Mingyu asks softly. 

“Nothing." 

“_____, please. You've been weird for days. Please just talk to us." Jeonghan reaches for your hand, Mingyu taking your other. 

“I'm," you sigh, “I'm scared." 

“Of what?" 

“Life?" 

“Should I call the doctor or something?" Jeonghan rushes to sit up but you make him lie back down.

“It's not that." You think about how to phrase it. “You're all moving on." 

“I've been dating for a month or so!" 

“And Hyeji is already on a plane home! I actually think we work better in other countries." 

“I don't mean like that. I just mean, you're all dating, you're open to dating. And I'm scared of the future. Last time I was on my own with Ari I couldn't be what she needed.” 

"You're a great mom!” Mingyu interrupts. 

"I am now,” 

"You were then.” Jeonghan says bluntly, squeezing your hand.

"I'm just……I'm scared to be on my own when you've all moved on. I'm not saying you won't be there for her," 

“We'll be there for you too. And you can date! You can do whatever you want to!" 

“I don't want to. Well I do……what I want isn’t important. I can't have what I want." 

They both stay silent. They know what you want. They know who you want. 

"I feel like life's moving on and leaving me behind and I don't want to be the reason you all hold yourselves back. I don't want to be the person I was when I left Areum at your door but I don't want you to not be able to move on because I left her at your door." 

“Fuck that's a lot of feelings all at once _____." Mingyu mumbles. 

“Do you want to know something?" 

“Go on," you and Mingyu turn your heads to Jeonghan, him still looking at the ceiling. 

“I worried you'd all move on without me. I was having all these feelings about who I was attracted to……" 

“He's told me about his hot piece of ass," Mingyu whispers in your ear. 

“And I didn't think I'd ever come to terms with being bi." 

You squeeze his hand, knowing that's the first time he's probably said that out loud. 

“But before that I'd already decided, you all wouldn't get rid of me." 

“What do you mean?" 

“My parents are building a new luxury complex. And the top floor has three apartments, even bigger than this one. We'll have one each." He says matter of factly. 

“And you've just decided that?" 

“I mean you can all do what you want but it's there." 

“You planned it out? For us?" 

“I like our little family. I think it's good for Areum." 

“I couldn't face having to tell her that she couldn't see any of you anymore, she has three dads. She proudly tells people she has her daddy, her Wooowoo daddy and Gyugyu daddy. I couldn't bear her not seeing any of you, that's what I've been worrying about. That and how I’d cope." 

“Wait, we're not moving yet are we?" 

"They're still trying to get planning permits. It'll be a couple of years yet.” 

"A couple of years of more of this sounds good.” Mingyu snuggles his head onto your shoulder and you do the same to Jeonghan. 

A gentle silence falls, some of the worries eased about what would happen as you all kept growing. And knowing you'd be able to meet people or date or marry or just do whatever you wanted but still near each other, helps more than Jeonghan probably realises. 

“Did something happen at the party?" Jeonghan asks softly. 

“I think I upset Wonwoo. I think I made him do something that'll hurt someone." 

“Who?" 

“When I was at the hospital I saw him with the woman he's seeing. I don't know why he didn't just tell us he was seeing someone." 

“He is? I don't think he….” 

“Yeah. And I've done something that’ll hurt both of them." 

"He'll understand, whatever it is.” 

"I doubt it.” 

"Go see him,” Jeonghan replies. 

"He's not here is he?” 

"Go see him at work. If it's making you feel this bad, go and say you're sorry. At least then when he gets home from work and Ari comes back from being with her grandparents, there'll be no awkwardness." 

“When did you become so good with these things, Kim Mingyu?” 

"I finally fucked my girlfriend in real life. It changes a man.” 

"Oh my god is that what that noise was?! I thought there was a cat being strangled somewhere!” 

You laugh but smack Jeonghan on the chest for being mean, though even Mingyu snorts. He was pretty fucking loud, taking full advantage of there being no Areum around. 

"Jeonghan?” 

"Yeah?” 

"These apartments, do I……” 

"Yes you have to pay rent Mingyu.” 

The three of you giggle and keep staring at the painted clouds on the ceiling but you know what you've got to do. Just two more minutes of peaceful bliss and you'll do it. You'll man up and take responsibility for your actions. 

If only it was as hard to find cardiology as it was to find the pharmacy. Once Mingyu and Jeonghan had told you it'd all be fine for the four thousandth time, you got in the car and seemed to arrive at the hospital way quicker than you thought was possible. 

Will he be even more pissed at you because you're disturbing him at work? Will he have already told his girlfriend what happened? Fuck if she's also working today she'll probably have security throw you out of the hospital. 

“Can I help you?" 

“Oh!" You spin round to find a woman in scrubs sitting at a desk in the centre of the department. 

“You look a little lost." She says kindly. 

“I'm looking for Won…I-I mean Dr Jeon?" 

“Are you a patient? I think he's in surgery at the moment. I could…..” 

"_____?” 

"Wonwoo?” You look up to find him walking out of some double doors that lead to the operating theatres, pulling his scrub cap off and looking confused. 

Fuck. She's with him. She doesn't look pissed, so maybe he hasn't told her yet. Maybe you should? It might sound better coming from another woman? You could explain everything you're feeling and she might not be as pissed. But that's fucking selfish, to expect her to just understand that you've kissed her boyfriend. 

“Is Ari ok? What's wrong?" He rushes over to you, all of his colleagues trying to not look interested in who this woman is that clearly knows the hot heart surgeon. 

"She's fine. I just needed to talk to you,” 

He gestures for you to move a little further away from where his colleagues have congregated. 

"Why? What's wrong?" 

What's wrong?! He can't be serious. 

“Do you think she'd talk to me?" 

“Who?" 

“Your girlfriend," you mutter under your breath, looking over at the woman who doesn't seem bothered that you're talking to him. 

So she must not know then. 

"_____ what are you talking about?” He's looking more and more concerned, he must've been stressed all day about it. 

"I know she'll have every right to hate me and I know you probably hate me. Fuck I shouldn't have done it, I'll tell her it was all me. I was just upset, I swear I never meant to cause any trouble,” 

"What? Wait. Er Dr Kim,” he gets the attention of another doctor by the desk, "I just need to sort something out, could you do the post op checks and then we'll run through what you'll need to do tomorrow when I'm off.” 

"No problem boss!” 

"Come with me.” He mumbles, making you follow him down a corridor. 

Surely he's not not going to tell her what happened. That's not Wonwoo. 

He opens a door and gestures for you to walk into what appears to be an on call room and your stomach drops. This is where he tells you he hates you and he wants you to leave the apartment, he'll probably say you're a bad influence on Ari and you shouldn't be around her either. 

"Right.” He closes the door. "What are you talking about?” 

"I've been worrying all day and I swear I didn't mean to cause you any problems! I was just sad you obviously didn't want to kiss me during spin the bottle but my drunk brain didn't comprehend that of course you didn't want to kiss me. You've got a girlfriend that you're clearly more than happy with. And I suppose I should apologise for telling Mingyu and Jeonghan about her, you were obviously trying to keep it private but I saw you when I came for my appointment, I wasn't spying on you," you rush to say, “I just stopped for a drink when I was looking for the pharmacy and saw you. I left straight away, I promise." 

“Why didn't you come over if you saw me while you were here?" 

“You said you had plans, I didn't want to interrupt your date." 

He blinks at you. 

“Is this why you've been weird with me? Because of what you saw." 

Curse him for being so clever. Though it doesn't take a doctor to figure out why you crashed out so much. 

“Fuck I may as well just be honest." You sigh, “I saw you and it was like everything flashed before me, you all moving on now you're all seeing someone and me just stuck where I am now. Or worse back where I was before I moved in with you all. I got back in the car and downloaded that fucking app and ended up on a date with an absolute weirdo. I actually blame Jeonghan more than anything, he was going on about telling you and what would that have even achieved!" 

“I thought you did tell me? You said you had an appointment and asked me for lunch," 

“R-right," you still need to cover up what Jeonghan actually meant, “exactly you said you were busy. You had a date." 

“So why just be weird with me? You've been fine with Mingyu and Jeonghan." 

You stare at him. How the hell do you get around that? 

“Fuuuuckk," you groan with your head in your hands as you take a deep breath. “I like you. I've liked you since about six months after I moved in. I've sat in my bed and cried every time you've been on a date over the years. And last night I took it too far, I saw you clearly fake a call to get out of kissing me during that stupid fucking game and I saw red. I just wanted…. I don't even know what I wanted." You pause, “I wanted you. But you're not mine and now I owe you and her a massive apology. My head's been all over the place and that's no excuse and I've probably ruined your relationship and…." 

“_____," 

“....you probably hate me and….” 

"_____,” 

".....you probably don't even want me near you, I'll move……” 

"_____!!!” 

You jump when he shouts at you. 

“Take a deep breath. Please." 

Why is he being nice to you? He should be telling you to fuck off. But you follow his breathing when he takes a deep breath and you feel a little less anxious. 

“Thank you," you breathe again, “but you shouldn't be being nice, you should….." 

“Will you please shut the fuck up!" 

You slam your mouth shut, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

"That woman,” 

"I'll apologise to her! I promise!” 

"_____.” He grabs your cheeks, "Please. Stop talking. Just shut. Up. And listen to me.” 

You nod dumbly, his hands still on your cheeks.

"I don't have a girlfriend. And I haven't been on a date in fucking ages, in fact I think I've had five since you've been fully in our lives and they've all been shit.” 

"Then who….." 

“Shut up," he whispers, smirking at you like he knows it's physically hurting you to shut your damn mouth, “the woman you saw me with is a student who's been with us for two weeks to learn about a new technique we're trying out. What you saw was an interview for her research paper." 

He must see the relief in your eyes because his smirk turns into a small smile. 

“I wouldn't go on a date with anyone because I like someone else." 

Well fuck. You're certain he must've been able to hear your heart break. Whoever works in the well hidden pharmacy probably heard it. 

“Do you want me to tell you about her?" 

No. You don't want to hear about her. Why would you want to hear about her?! 

And besides. He's told you not to speak and so now he can deal with the consequences of those words. 

"You can speak.” He rolls his eyes. 

Oh fuck. 

"I don't really want to hear it,” 

"No?” He steps even closer to you, his hands still holding your cheeks, his thumbs brushing your skin a little. 

You shake your head. 

"I'll tell you anyway. She's a similar height to you." He smiles softly, “she actually has the same hair colour as you. And really similar eyes. She's funny and kind and so fucking hot." 

You hate her.

“And she makes me excited to get out of bed each morning." 

Fucking bitch. 

“She’s the most talented artist I've ever met." 

She's probably a sculptor. They're all hot. Fucking assholes. 

"She’s actually really good friends with Mingyu. And she knows Jeonghan better than anyone. And she has the most beautiful daughter, who loves to read murder mysteries and does makeovers on me every Friday night. I'm still actually getting the glitter off me from the last one.” 

Well if he wanted all that he could've just….wait. You frown at him. 

“Are you saying?" 

“I literally couldn't make it more obvious _____," he smiles at you, his thumbs still brushing your cheeks. 

"So you're not in love with that woman?!”

"No, I'm in love with someone else.” 

"Me?” You point at yourself. 

"Yes _____, you.” He chuckles. "Surely Jeonghan and Mingyu told you that me dating someone would be bullshit? They've been telling me to tell you for months. If not years." 

“They probably tried," you admit, you did think Mingyu wanted to say something when you were telling them. 

"Why didn't you just tell me? Instead of downloading fucking tinder and making me want to strangle whoever you'd been on a date with.” 

"Is that why you were in the kitchen?” 

"I'd been there two hours.” 

"That's a pretty big glass of water.” 

"Hm,” he hums, pulling you against him, his arms around your waist, "almost as big as your glass of wine. I would’ve made a bigger deal out of you ignoring me but a massive part of me was just pleased it had clearly gone badly." 

“Well thanks!" You scoff. 

"You still should've told me.” 

"I didn't want to ruin things when you said you didn't feel the same, I couldn't bear it if it affected your relationship with Ari or it ruined our little family. And,” you think about it, "you could've told me y’know!” 

"I just have.” 

"After several breakdowns on my part.” 

"Well I didn't know why you were being weird!” 

"At least Jeonghan isn't wasting his time with the apartment complex now I know you don't hate me. Wait.” 

"What?” He mumbles, watching you thinking about something.  

"He said there were three apartments.” 

"Who did?” 

"Jeonghan.” 

"Can you rewind a bit. What apartments and what complex?” 

"Jeonghan’s parents are building a new apartment complex. He said earlier when we were in bed,” 

"When you were what?!” 

"I was spiralling in Ari’s room and then they joined me and we just sort of lay there and figured life out.” 

"I've always wondered what you three do when I'm at actual work.” 

"Hey we work! Well. I do. Well I paint. And Mingyu does whatever he does. And I don't really know…..what would we class Jeonghan as? Our house husband?” 

"I don't know,” he laughs, putting a stray piece of hair behind your ear and making you shiver a little. "Tell me about how you figured life out in the space of a day please.” 

"Oh yeah. Well his parents are building a whole new luxury apartment complex and he's reserved the whole top floor for us. Obviously we'd pay rent," 

“I bet Mingyu was thrilled with that," 

“Oh he's probably still pouting," you dismiss, “but he said there's three apartments. And I didn't think anything of it when he said it but he knew? Not that I'm saying we’re going to live together…” 

"We do live together,” 

"Oh yeah,” you grin, "but yeah, so he said three. That man is so sneaky.” 

“Wait so we're moving?" 

“Oh they're not built yet, it'll be a couple of years.”

“I could do a couple more years of this," He holds you closer. 

“That's what we said." You smile and finally wrap your arms around him too. 

You gaze at him and it feels very like he's about to finally kiss you, his eyes keep flitting down to your lips but that reminds you of something. 

“Hold on. If you like me," 

“Love you." He corrects. 

“Love me,” you roll your eyes, "I love you too by the way. But if you love me, why did you run away and pretend to have a phone call during spin the bottle?” 

"Because, and call me old fashioned, but I'd have quite liked the woman I've been in love with for years to be sober when we had our first kiss. And I didn't want it to be in front of a room full of drunk strangers.” 

"Oh.” Your cheeks heat, "I ruined that then.” 

"Not really. You just very aggressively kissed my chin last night.” 

"Well you could've told me that! I've been worrying about being a homewrecker all day!” 

"How could I tell you when I didn't know what you've been thinking!” 

You narrow your eyes at him. 

"Very clever Dr Jeon.” 

"Don't do that.” He mutters. 

"What?” 

"Call me Dr Jeon." 

“Don't people call you that all the time?" 

“They do," he holds you a little closer again, “but it sounds different when you say it. Makes me feel like I've got all the power." 

“Is that right?" You quirk your brow at him. 

“Mm," 

His lips are so close you can feel his breath, fuck it's actually happening. 

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. 

"Fuck,” he pulls his phone from his pocket and checks it, "I've got to go, the shifts ending and I need to do hand over. I'll be like twenty minutes? I'm off work tomorrow so I need to do handover to the night team and my team who’re in tomorrow.” 

"It's fine,” you smile, but he's still holding you. 

"Did you drive here?”

"Yeah,” 

"I didn't. I got a cab. I know I only had two drinks but I didn't want to take the risk and it was so early when I left for work. Wait for me? And we’ll go home together?” 

"Sounds good.” 

"I really want to kiss you,” he glances at your lips again, "but if I start I won't want to stop.” 

"Then go, the sooner you're done, the sooner we can go. It works quite well actually, I need to find the pharmacy.” 

“Still?" 

“Well I was trying to not cry when I left the other day." 

"It's near the entrance.” 

"What?! I walked around this damn hospital hundreds of times the other day!” 

“They’re probably closed now," he checks his watch. 

“How can a hospital pharmacy close? Do people not need things all the time?" 

“They do," he strokes your cheek again, “but it's separate for inpatients. What is it you need?" 

“Oh," you search your pockets, these are the same jeans from the other day you threw on, “a-ha! This," you hand it to him. 

“Er," he checks the prescription, “I'll get one of the nurses to get it. He owes me a favour for covering for him doing something completely unsanitary in here last week." 

You grimace at the dingy bed in the corner. The horrors that bed must've seen. 

“I'll wait in the car then.” You kiss his cheek and try not to smile at how it flusters him. 

"Ok.” 

But he doesn't move, he just gazes at you, his fingers drawing patterns on your back. 

“Go," you shew him off you, “go be an important doctor and I'll be waiting in the car." 

“Promise?" He opens the door and you follow him out. 

“I promise." You kiss his other cheek but this time he's ready for you and he kisses you back on your cheek straight away. 

“Bye then," he whispers, kissing the other. 

“Bye." You grin and turn to head out, turning left off the corridor. 

“_____? Other way!" 

He smiles as you reappear sheepishly. 

“I'll be in the car,” you point and head in the right direction. 

"I'll be as quick as I can!” He shouts after you and heads back to work. 

You more or less skip to the car, a smile plastered on your face and your stomach full of butterflies. 

You intend to do two things when you get home. One, kiss Wonwoo until your lips are chapped. And two, kill Mingyu and Jeonghan for clearly knowing a lot more than they were letting on. 

"Where are you two going?”

"Hello!” Jeonghan replies looking like him and Mingyu have been caught doing something they absolutely shouldn’t be doing. 

"Fancy seeing you here!" 

“Mingyu. We live here. Where are you going?" You refuse to move out of the way of the elevator, Wonwoo looking pretty sheepish too at the side of you. 

"We've decided we can't go on without seeing our daughter. So we're going to see her.” 

"You're driving two hundred miles to the coast to see Areum when she'll be home tomorrow afternoon?” 

"Y-yes.” They look at each other. 

"You told me I was being ridiculous last night when I said we needed to keep checking on her.” 

"Oh y’know, things change.” Jeonghan shrugs. 

"Jeonghan.” You step closer to him, narrowing your eyes, "You're willingly travelling all that way, to arrive really late at night when Areum will already be asleep to spend a few hours with her and your parents and my parents,” 

"Wonwoo’s are there too! Mine couldn't go because they……" Mingyu's words trail off when you all glare at him. 

"What's the point?” 

He glances at Wonwoo who's still looking more than a little awkward. 

"Oh I can't lie to her Wonwoo, she knows all my tells,” he gives up. "He rang, told us to fuck off for the night.” He points at Wonwoo. "We're going to stay at my parents’ while they're not there.”  

"When did you do that?” You frown at Wonwoo. 

"As I was walking to your car. I just thought we needed some space before Ari comes back,” 

"Space.” Mingyu snickers. 

"Yes Mingyu space. It's been a bit of a mad day." Wonwoo's stern look stops Mingyu's smugness. 

“We'll be going then," Jeonghan barges past you, dragging Mingyu along with him. 

“Don't have too much fun." Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows at you. 

“Idiot." You say under your breath, you and Wonwoo looking at them in the elevator. 

The doors start to close. 

“_____!" Jeonghan says quickly before the door closes, “don't forget to use protection!" You hear them both fall about laughing as they disappear completely. 

Silence. Clearly Wonwoo was hoping they'd already be gone before you got home. 

“I'm sorry," he groans, scratching his neck, “I just thought we needed to talk or just spend some time together? Without having to be quiet or having those two just listening to everything we say." 

“Wonwoo," you sigh, “I'm not annoyed or anything. It's just we've only just confessed and I don't want all our parents asking questions, because I know those two won't be able to keep their mouths shut, and confusing Ari." 

“I've already told them all. Check the group chat. I'm sorry I couldn't keep it in, I've just waited so long and I thought it's one less thing for you to worry about." 

Your eyebrows knit together as you pull your phone out. 

Wonwoo: Just so we're all on the same page. Me and _____ are in a relationship. I'll be taking no questions and please don't tell Areum yet. Enjoy your break, see you when you're back. 

Well. Putting that in the group chat you have with all your parents and Mingyu and Jeonghan is certainly one way to tell them all. 

“Very efficient." You chuckle. “Wait. Your mom says it's about time? Mine says it's only taken us four years? Even Jeonghan's mom is saying she knew. My dad owes Mingyu's dad money, they had a bet?! They all knew?!" 

“It appears the only two that didn't know, is us." He smiles. 

"Typical.” You scoff. 

"You're not annoyed with me for telling them to fuck off?” 

"A whole night without the troublesome twosome? I'm ecstatic.”

“Did you eat yet?" 

“No. But that's why you sent them away? To eat?" You smirk, stepping closer to him. 

“Don't start something you can't finish _____." 

“Who says I can't finish it?"

“You weren’t lying,” you smile as Wonwoo grabs your t-shirt and pulls your lips back to his. 

The second you uttered those fated words near the elevator, his lips were on yours and you’d barely detached yourselves from each other to breathe let alone check where you were going. Your bedroom is on the third floor of the penthouse and you’re certain both of you will have shins covered in bruises from how many times you bumped into shit on your way up here. Yes, you could've just stopped kissing. But that’s not an option. Not now you know how fucking good he is at it. 

“Wait what? You think I’m lying about loving you?” 

“No,” you giggle, kissing his lips one more time, “I meant you weren’t lying about not being able to stop once you’ve started.” 

He just rolls his eyes and drags you back to his perfect lips, backing you towards your bed but he bangs into your bedside table as he does it. 

“For fucks sake!” he switches your lamp on, ready to give you a stern talking to for laughing at him but he spots something that causes him to do a double take. 

“No!!” You launch forward but it’s too late, he’s already grabbed it. 

“What’s this?” He murmurs, inspecting what’s in his hand. 

“What does it look like?” You mumble, trying to grab it, “give it to me Wonwoo.” 

“Do you always just leave your dildos about the place?” 

“I don’t have dildos, I have a dildo.” 

“So if I open this draw I won’t find like ten more sex toys?” he raises his brow at you. 

“No,” you fold your arms, “I mean sure there’s a clit sucker thing but what do you want me to do?! It’s not illegal! It’s not……” 

He fists your t-shirt and pulls you flush against him. 

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” He smirks as he grips your chin and moves your head to the side, “just thinking of all the things we could do. May as well make you well and truly mine whilst I can, once everyone is back it’ll be sneaking around and trying to be quiet. Something you’re famously not good at.” He hisses in your ear. 

“Are you saying I talk too much?” 

“Oh baby you never shut the fuck up.” He smiles wickedly. “I do have some ideas of how to make you shut up though. Would you be interested in hearing them?” 

You clench your thighs together. You always got the feeling that he was like this in the bedroom. You’d never heard him, he’d never brought anyone home at all. But he’s just too sweet and caring in everyday life to not be a fucking freak in the bedroom. 

“I might be.” You try to say like you’re not ready to let him do whatever the fuck he wants. 

“Is this all ok?”

He makes sure you look at him properly, his kind eyes showing you he doesn’t want to do anything you’re not ready for or comfortable with. 

“Yeah,” You smile, kissing him again, “I’ve thought about this for so long. Do whatever you want.” 

“Whatever I want?” 

You pause. 

“No anal. At least not now.” You think about it for a minute, “Or slapping. And I haven’t got any condoms but I am on birth control so if you’re clean, I’m fine with going raw.”

“Really? I thought you…….”

“You thought I’d be scared of getting pregnant? I got pregnant because we were both fucking idiots. I’m not going to do that again. Not yet anyway.” 

His face softens when he realises that you’re implying you want everything you can with him. Just not right now. 

“I really do love you y’know.” He smiles, kissing your forehead. “But,” he stands back from you. “Kneel down.” 

“What?” 

“Did I stutter? Kneel down.” 

“Should I?” You look down at your clothes. 

“Keep them on, until I’ve moulded your throat to the shape of my dick at least.” 

“Fuck.” You fall to your knees in wonder, Wonwoo trying not to smile at how quickly you’ve submitted to him. 

He places the dildo down on the bed side table, the glint of something wicked in his eyes and slowly undresses in front of you. 

Your eyes follow every moment, every inch of skin being uncovered that you've craved to touch for so long. He's big, he always has been but recently he seems to have grown even bigger, even stronger. You've always got the impression that if you were wrapped in his arms, nothing bad in the world or in your head could get you. 

His boxers are the last to go and the second they're off his dick slaps against his abdomen. 

Well it turns out all of him is big then. Fuck he's going to ruin you and you're going to enjoy every last second of it. 

He crouches down, tucking his finger under your chin and makes you look at him. 

“For someone who talks so much you've really hurt me these past few days _____. Ignoring me, making me feel like I've done something wrong," he sighs. “I think… I think I need some reassurance. That'll you treat me well, that you'll use your pretty little mouth properly in the future. Do you want to show me, baby? Show me just how well your mouth works?" 

You frown in confusion before he reaches just a little behind where you're kneeling and brings the dildo back into view. 

“Show me." 

Jesus. 

He's still crouching down to you, completely naked and dick rock hard whilst you're kneeling on the floor fully clothed and clearly nothing more than a source of entertainment to him. 

He brings the silicone tip closer to you and every part of you melts for the man in front of you. Fully ready to give him whatever he wants. 

Making sure you look him in the eye, yours burning into his, you let a little spit drip from your mouth. Just enough to wet the tip as it slowly falls from your mouth. His eyes falter a little like he didn't think you'd match his freak quite as much. 

But that's where he's wrong. 

You've spent night after night thinking of the most obscene fantasies your brain could conjure. 

You let your tongue trace around where the hole would be, flicking it a little showing him exactly how good you'll be for him. 

Your lips wrap around the tip, imagining it's his and your eyes finally leave his to look at his dick. Your eyebrows knit together, a look of concentration on your face as you focus on how he's already dribbling a little precum. You start to bob your head as he holds it for you, his eyes transfixed by the way you're sucking the dildo but clearly imagining it's him. 

You hum around it, desperate to show him just how much you want him, weirdly even wanting to make him proud of the way you're performing for him. 

“You're doing so well," he murmurs, his free hand coming to hold your cheek as you keep bobbing on the dildo. 

He kneels on the floor in front of you but sitting up on his knees so he's taller than you, giving you an even better view of him and making you moan around the dildo. 

“Awww baby, are you desperate?" 

You nod as best you can, hoping this means he'll let you near him. 

“Yeah?" His smile turns wicked, “prove it for me." 

And he shoves the dildo further into your mouth making you gag on it. Fuck this is more than you could’ve imagined and he's not even touched you. You're not even undressed and you feel like he's wrecked you. 

Wonwoo starts fucking the dildo in and out of your mouth, a smirk on his face as he watches you gag around it, the tears and drool only making the sight even prettier for him. And yet his thumb strokes your cheek like it did when he was telling you he loved you earlier, nothing but gentleness in the loving touch. 

"Good girl _____, you're doing so well. You look so pretty like this, so needy for me,"  

You move your head even quicker, desperately sucking the dildo, him meeting your movements and making your gag occasionally. 

“I'm so sorry _____. If I'd have known you were up here, fucking yourself with this," he shoves it down your throat and your eyes roll back as you choke, "I'd have done something sooner, ruined you so much sooner." 

His gentle voice mixed with him fucking your throat with the dildo has you in a space you've never been in before but fuck you love it. 

It's when he spots you wiggling a little bit, desperately trying to relieve some of the tension between your legs, that he realises just how much he needs to feel you. You've put on a pretty little show for him but he’s dreamt about your lips wrapped around him for so long and you're clearly so ready for him. 

His hand that was on your cheek moves to your hair. He isn't overly harsh with it, he doesn't want to hurt you, but he gets your hair in a half assed ponytail as he stands up. Wonwoo yanks you off the dildo, your lips swollen and chin wet and he was going to check in with you but you lunge forward and he doesn't stop you. He's not even sure if he could.

You don't even ease him into it, just adjust your mouth because he's bigger than your dildo and go to town. Your tongue runs flat along the bottom of him whilst you bob your head frantically, your hands on his thighs steadying you because of how desperately you're fucking your face onto his dick. 

“Fucking hell," he throws his head back, “I told you to show me on your fucking dildo," he groans, his hips twitching when you swirl your tongue around his tip and go back to your bobbing, “you didn't show me shit. Fuck why are you so good at that?" 

Oh he's not seen anything yet, of course you weren't going to really go to town on a fucking dildo. 

You bob a little more, your cheeks hollowed and lips tight around him. Just a couple more bobs and then you fully take him in your mouth. Well your throat. And then swallow around him. 

The whine Wonwoo lets out above you should've been recorded. Then you could listen to it on nights when he's at work and you need him. Because just that one whine could get you off again and again. 

"Right. No. Get off,” he tries to move you back but you send a glare his way and flick his tip defiantly. 

"_____,” he warns, "Get. Off.” 

You roll your eyes and take his dick out of your mouth. 

"What?!” 

He pauses for a second, something clicking in his mind and he finally realises this is actually happening. You're actually kneeling in front of him, you drool on your t-shirt and cheeks damp from your tears. 

“I'm not about to cum in your mouth for our first time having sex." 

“Then cum wherever you want," you say like it's obvious, “but why have you stopped me? Come back here,” you try to crawl forward. 

"No.” He crouches down in front of you again, a weirdly proud smile on his lips. "Get on the bed.” 

You clamber up, not really caring how needy you look. You are needy for him. Just the same way he is for you. 

“Wait," you huff as you flop down on your bed, leaning on your elbows as he watches you fondly, “should I take these off?" You gesture to your clothes. 

“I'll do it," he shrugs, crawling up the bed to you, looking like an overly hot predator. 

"Oh I could get used to this.” You lie back. 

"Good.” He hovers over you, his thumb wiping your lip, "I'm gonna treat you so well _____. We've spent so long avoiding what was clearly so obvious, if you said you wanted the moon I'd try to find a way to get it for you.” 

You smile up at him, the man who you're fairly certain is the love of your life and realise you've never been happier. 

His lips linger on yours one last time before they move slowly down your neck, feather light kisses heating every patch of skin they touch. 

One of his hands rests by your head, the other stroking your waist as his lips travel over your cloth covered breasts, mumbling into your t-shirt the occasional “so pretty" and “I'm so lucky." 

His hand that was on your waist moves to shimmy under your t-shirt and he must feel you tense up. 

You hadn't even been worrying about it. It simply never occurred to you. It didn't need to occur to you. 

"What's wrong?” He asks straight away, a flash of worry on his handsome features, his hand paused. 

"I haven't been,” you swallow, a whole new bunch of worries now fogging your brain, "I haven't been naked in front of anyone since I had Areum. I didn't even realise I was worried about it until you moved your hand.” 

"No one?” 

"Do you think I've been sneaking men up here?” 

"No,” he smiles, "I just wasn't sure….." 

"The last time was when I got pregnant with Areum." 

“I swear it doesn't bother me," he rushes to say, “I know you and Jeonghan were nothing serious. I just wasn't sure." He shrugs, stroking your hair now he's moved his hand. 

"I'm used to my body. And I don't hate my body. It just hit me that it looks different from the last time someone else saw me naked.” 

"I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met,” he smiles when you fluster a little, "but if you want to wait and stop, we can do.” 

"I don't want to stop.” You say much too quickly and make him laugh. 

"Then tell me how you want this to go baby.” 

"I've told you, whatever you want.” You move his hair off his forehead, "I just got in my own head for a second. I'm good now.” 

"You're sure?” 

"So sure." You peck his lips. 

He looks at you for a couple more seconds, just to double check and then goes back to his little kisses all over your breasts through your t-shirt. His hand moves slowly back under it so his finger tips can wander over your stomach and along your waist. 

Wonwoo glances up at you one last time and then lifts your t-shirt. You sit up so he can take it off easier and before you can even lay back down properly he kisses you again so you don't have any chance to feel self conscious. His tongue is messy as it explores your mouth and your fingers bury in his hair to hold him closer to you, losing yourself in the taste of him. 

His hand slips under your back, his tongue still dancing with yours, and unclasps your bra. Huh, turns out he is really good with his hands. Your bra is thrown on the floor with your t-shirt and his lips go travelling again. 

You watch as his eyes take you in every time his lips travel lower down your body. Teasing kisses are dotted over your tits and on your nipples, making you squirm when you think he's going to take one into his mouth. But he doesn't, he just shows you with his lips how much he loves you. 

He kisses down your stomach and stops when his lips meet your jeans. 

“You're perfect _____." His eyes run all over your body, marvelling at you beneath him. “I'm so lucky." 

He kneels between your legs and you prop yourself on your elbows. 

“Can I?" He plays with the button on your jeans. 

You don't answer with words, just lift your ass up so he can take them off. 

“Fuck." He stares down when he's thrown your jeans on the floor and spots just how wrecked your panties are. 

“What?" 

“You're fucking dripping." 

His fingers trace over your pantie clad pussy making you shiver. The touch is hardly there and yet drives you crazy. 

“So wet," he says in wonder, “and it's all mine isn't it ____? It's all for me?" He pulls the drenched cloth away from your aching pussy with his finger and lets them snap back, the sting making you startle. 

“Answer me _____," he presses two fingers onto your soaked mound and if you didn't have your underwear on, they'd be between your folds, exactly where you want them.  

“All yours," you nod desperately, “it's just for you." 

“Yeah?" He says darkly, “do you get this wet when you're up here using this?" He holds up the dildo. 

Where the fuck had he hidden that?! 

"I bet you're fucking dripping aren't you?” He presses the tip to you, "fucking yourself with this night after night. What do you think of, baby?” 

The pressure of the tip is exactly on your clit, it would just take the tiniest movement and you'd get some sweet relief. 

“Who," he presses a tiny bit harder, it doesn't hurt but fuck does it make you twitch from the added friction, “do you think of?" 

“You." You whisper. “Always you. Only you." 

“What a waste of fucking time." He turns the dildo so it presses harder onto your clit and you throw your head back in pleasure. “I could've been wrecking this pretty pussy every night." 

“Wonwoo, please just do something!" 

You're all for foreplay. You're all for teasing. But you've not had sex in five fucking years, surely he could show you some reprieve. 

"What's the rush? We've got all night.” He muses as he runs the dildo along your soaked underwear. 

"Wonwoo.” You give him a stern look, "I haven't had sex in fucking years. If you don't do something soon I might actually burst into tears. Just fuck me!” You whine. 

"I have always dreamt of you crying my name.” 

You look at him in horror. What a fucking tease. 

"Give me my dildo.” You demand and hold your hand out. 

"No.” He looks at your hand in disgust.

Right then. You're not above making him do something. 

"What are you doing?” He mumbles as you flail around, him not moving from between your legs making it difficult as you wrestle your panties off. 

"Look,” you lie back, two fingers running through your drenched folds, trying to not moan at the feeling, and hold them up to him, "do something. Or I'll finish myself off.” 

He hasn't heard a single word you've just said to him. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw your pussy and he nearly fainted when you ran your fucking fingers through it. You're moaning at him because you've not had sex in five years. He hasn't had sex since you moved in here. You cannot just tempt him like that. 

"Hey!” But he ignores you, grabs your hand and shoves your fingers in this mouth, licking and sucking your essence, his eyes closing in delight at the taste. 

Something takes over him and before you know it your knees are bent and near your chest and he's holding your ankles, the perfect view of your pussy. 

You expected a lot of things, maybe sloppy romance or tentative touches for your first time. You did not expect him to go with fucking mating press after him making you choke on your own dildo. Not that you're complaining. You once had a dream where you were literally sitting upside down in his lap whilst he ate you out. Luckily, dream you is clearly an acrobat. 

"Is this what you wanted?” He glares at you. 

"Yes,” you whisper, eyes on his dick. 

"So selfish,” he mutters, "hold your legs.” 

You do as he says straight away, your hands holding the backs of your thighs, your pussy dripping in front of him. 

"Didn't even get a chance to play with it a little bit,” 

"I'm not one of your computer games.” You glare between your legs. 

"Shut up,” he flicks your clit, "now,” he lines himself up with you, "ready? You're sure about this?” 

"So sure. Just do something Wonwoo.” You whine. 

He holds one of your ankles, just his tip against your hole makes your breath hitch. He spares you one last glance and then his tip pushes in, stretching you open deliciously and making you both moan at the feeling. 

He’s gentle, his hips rocking, gradually feeding you more and more of his dick and your walls feeling fuller than you probably ever have. The stretch burns just right and finally having him like this feels like you're exactly where you should be. It was always meant to be him, that's the reason it feels so fucking good already and he's not even fucking you yet. 

"Shit.” He hisses when he's fully bottomed out, "you feel incredible baby. So perfect, fuck it's like you were made just for me.” 

You don't answer, you're just basking in how fucking full you feel. 

"Can I move?" 

“Please," you manage to croak out. 

Wonwoo puts his weight on you, allowing you to wrap your arms around his back instead of holding your legs and rests his hands either side of your head.

"I love you.” 

"I love you t…..shit!" 

He doesn’t even let you fucking finish saying it before he pulls out just to the tip and slams back into you, deeper than you're certain anyone has ever gotten and makes you throw your head back on the pillow in pleasure. 

The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping and your drooling cunt being pounded by the man of your dreams. Your finger nails dimple his back with little crescent moons, not that he’ll need anything to remind him of tonight. This is everything he's been waiting for, it'll be etched onto his brain how fucking good it felt to finally feel you and be close to, until his dying breath. 

You feel like you can't breathe. His weight is on top of you, you're more or less folded in half and he’s fucking you so hard it's a wonder you've not smacked your head on the headboard. But you wouldn't have it any other way because if anything, the lack of breath only adds to how insane you feel right now. 

His dick is bullying its way into your warm willing walls, he's so deep you're certain he's crashing into your cervix and all you can do is hold onto him and enjoy the ride. 

“You feel so good," he groans when he hits a squishy spot inside you that drives you both wild. 

“You too," you whisper, trying to hold him even closer to you. 

“You're a fucking goddess baby. And you're mine, all fucking mine,” He moans when you clench around his perfect dick. 

"Y-you’re,” you try to get out but you're already so close to cumming, "m-mine too,” 

“I've always been yours _____, always. Fuck I'm already close, shit." 

“Me too," 

“Yeah? Gonna cum around my dick baby? Let me feel how good I'm making you feel?" 

“Hm-mm," 

He moves one of his hands from beside your head, his dick still slamming but when two fingers drift down to your clit and rubs tight little circles on your bundle of nerves, you completely lose it. 

“Fuckfuckfuck," you cry, your hole clenching repeatedly around him. 

Your whole pussy is quivering, his dick dragging against your walls deliciously and his magic fingers drawing perfect little patterns on your clit. What was it he said? I'm good with my hands? He really wasn't lying, his fingers somehow know exactly how to tease your clit just right. 

Just one more thrust and you cry out, your whole body vibrating beneath him and hole contracting around his dick again and again. You're not sure you've ever cum so hard in your life. The weight of Wonwoo on top of you and the way he looks like he's completely lost in the feeling of you cumming for him only drives you on even more. You can’t move but you don't need to, Wonwoo doesn't stop fucking you, making sure you ride your orgasm out for as long as possible, revelling in the way you feel around him. 

“Wonwoo," you shakily breath out, “cum. Please cum inside me, fill me up, I," you sigh, still shaking from the end of your orgasm, “wanna feel you cum in me." 

He lets out a deep, guttural growl, your words being the tipping point for him as his body stills on top of you for a second before he keeps fucking into you. Fucking his cum into you. 

"Fuck I love you _____,” his hips keep sloppily fucking into you and he moans when you clench a little, "I love you so fucking much.” 

"I love you too,” you say softly, your hands gliding up his back to hold him close to you so you can whisper in his ear, "so, so much Wonwoo.” 

His hips gradually slow, your fingers deciding to draw patterns along his sweaty, marked back, hoping to soothe his heavy breathing and hold him as close to you as possible. 

Wonwoo raises his head to look at you, his cheeks flushed and pupils blown out, but he looks at you with so much fondness and so much love you feel like doing a little happy cry. 

“Are you ok?" He asks quietly, helping you move your legs and smiling as your waggle your feet now they're free. 

“I am," you hold his cheeks, “I love you." 

The kiss on his lips is sweet and filled with promise. 

“I love you too. Can I," he moves back, taking his softening dick out of you. 

His eyes widen as he sits back, watching his cum drip out of you. 

“Fuck," he whispers in awe as his fingers move to pick up a little bit of it and stuff it back in. 

“Don't giggle," you chastise him when he chuckles a little at your thighs twitching, “I'm sensitive." 

“I fucked you that well?" He asks, keeping his eyes on your cum filled hole as he moves to lie next to you. 

“I don't think I've ever felt like that…..don't look so smug!" You tap his chest when he looks more than pleased with himself. 

“What?!" He pulls you into his chest, your leg hooking over his hip, “not everyday you hear that from the woman you love." 

“That makes me feel all tingly," you murmur into his chest, his strong arms wrapped around you. 

“What does? That I luuurve you," he squeezes you and then squeezes you again just to hear the laugh he loves so much. 

"Yes.” You giggle. 

He holds you, kissing your head occasionally, both of you basking in the afterglow of what's just gone down. 

“_____?" 

“Hmm?" 

“Just so you know. I'm all in. I want whatever you want, I just want to be with you." 

“Me too." 

You think for a minute, wondering how to bring up the last thing that's been worrying you. You only thought about it on the drive home but now all your horniness has been satiated, you need to ask him. 

“This doesn't change anything does it? I mean with Ari and the guys? Like you're all still…..I don't know how to put it. Equal? Like you don't think you trump Mingyu because…..” 

"Never.” He cuts you off, "what we have works. She's our daughter, she always will be. I don't feel any different in terms of our family _____. The only thing that changes is my relationship with you. They're my best friends, we all love her the same and you're my girlfriend.” 

"I just wanted to check,” you kiss his chest and he holds you a little closer. 

"I'm a bit worried about whether she'll think differently of me.” He murmurs. 

“Ari?" You prop yourself on your elbow. 

“Hm," he nods, “what if when we finally tell her, she decides she doesn't want me near you? She doesn't want her mommy to have a boyfriend or for that boyfriend to be me." 

“Are you joking?" 

“No! Like what if she hates me for holding your hand or something. That little girl dotes on you, she's never seen you with a man. What if she decides to wage war on me!" 

"You're talking about the same little girl that pretended to operate on her dolls with you when she was three because she said she wants to be a doctor like her daddy woowoo…” 

"But…" 

“The same little girl who doesn't let anyone do her hair other than you. I did it the other day when I was upset with you and she spent the entire drive home after school telling me how she felt like her hair was falling out all day because you hadn't done it." 

“That's not the…." 

“The same little girl," you sit up and cross your legs, him following and holding your hands, “who has spent her whole life being treated like a princess by three of the best men this world has to offer. She could never hate any of you. And we don't need to tell her quickly, we can take our time. Figure out how we work before we do anything else." 

“So you don't think she'll stop reading with me on Sundays?" 

“I think the only time she'll do that is when you both finally run out of books. She loves you Wonwoo," you stroke his cheek, “so do the guys. But none of them love you as much as me.” You smile proudly, kissing him softly. 

"It's gonna feel like we're teenagers sneaking around,” he pulls you to sit between his legs with his back against the headboard. 

"Yeah and there's spies on both floors. Areum's up here and the guys are near you downstairs.” 

"Guess we'll have to get really good at shower sex,” he mumbles into your shoulder, his fingers tracing hearts on your skin. 

"Or maybe,” you look back at him, "car sex.” 

"Absolutely not. Mingyu told me a horror story about a handbrake and rectal bleeding once. That's not happening.” 

"He disgusts me sometimes.” 

"Can I stay in here tonight?” He whispers in your ear before kissing just beneath it. 

"Oh now I've got you, I'm not letting you go.” 

“OH LOOK JEONGHAN WE ARE HOME," 

“YES, IT IS NICE TO BE HOME." 

They have to be the most ridiculous pair of people you've ever met in your life. 

“WE ARE WALKING INTO THE APARTMENT NOW." 

“IF THERE WAS SOMETHING WE SHOULDN'T BE SEEING I HOPE IT IS FINISHED NOW." 

“What the fuck are you two doing?" Wonwoo asks as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, glancing at you on the sofa. 

"Oh.” They both come to a stop. "We thought you'd be doing something disgusting.” 

"No, we've decided to just be friends.” 

"WHAT?!” 

You fall back on the sofa laughing, Wonwoo watching you happily. 

"I hope she's joking.” Mingyu points at you. 

"She definitely wasn't calling me her friend half an hour ago.” 

"Wonwoo!” You scold, sitting up again. 

"Oh my ears!” Jeonghan walks to the kitchen, covering his ears. 

“When’s Areum back?" Mingyu throws himself on the sofa next to you before Wonwoo can sit down, sending him a middle finger. 

“In about twenty minutes. Hey Jeonghan," you holler back to the kitchen, “did you have anything planned for dinner? Because your mom promised Ari pizza if she got dressed when they told her to." 

“Bribing kids," Mingyu shakes his head in disgust. 

“Yeah because pretending to cry to get them to do what you want is so much better. Move.” Wonwoo stands in front of you and Mingyu. 

You glance at Mingyu and then turn back to Wonwoo, pretending to not know what's annoying him. 

"Me?” Mingyu points to himself, pretending to be a little shocked. 

"Obviously.” 

"Why? Do you want to sit with your girlfriend?” 

"I'll sit on you.” 

"Is that a promise?” He smirks at Wonwoo. 

You stand up, shove Wonwoo down onto the sofa and then throw yourself on his lap. Sure he groans at the shock but you'll be damned if Mingyu upsets your boyfriend. 

"Oh for god's sake. There's two other sofas!” 

"Then go sit on one,” you flick Mingyu’s forehead as Wonwoo's arms wrap around you. 

"Wait, hold on!” Jeonghan rushes over to you all and sits on Mingyu. 

"Dude there's other places to sit.” 

"We need a family meeting.” 

"The head of the family isn't here.” You point out. 

This must look ridiculous, you and Jeonghan sitting on Wonwoo and Mingyu's laps facing each other. 

"She's right.” Mingyu picks a rogue thread off Jeonghan's top. 

"I think we need to get this sorted before she's home.” 

Your stomach drops a bit and Wonwoo takes his arms from around you, settling on a gentle hand on the small of your back. 

"Jeonghan…" you try to start but he holds a hand up to stop you. 

“When you trusted us with Areum, we all took care of her. You two," he glances at Mingyu and Wonwoo, “didn't hesitate to help me. To help _____. I know we've asked you a few times over the years whether you still wanted to be in this and you've always shot us down saying it was what you wanted. But I just want you to know, that it meant a lot. It means a lot. You care for Areum like she's your own, she's surrounded by love and not just because of me and _____ but because of you two, even your parents treat her like a family member." 

You all stare at him, the fact he's sitting on Mingyu’s lap not even looking entertaining anymore.

“Our stupidity brought Areum into this world." He smiles a little at you. “But I'm so pleased we were stupid back then. She is the most precious thing to me and I thank the universe everyday that you trusted me enough that day when you needed help. You're the best mom in the world _____,” 

You sniffle, Wonwoo rubbing the small of your back. 

"And I know you. It probably won't be better than anyone soon,” he smiles down at Wonwoo, "but I know you and know you'll be worrying somewhere in there,” he taps the side of your head with his finger and makes you laugh, "that I'll see you differently or I'll be annoyed or angry or something but I want you both to know, I have been waiting for you both to realise you loved each other. And I still feel the same as I did before yesterday. I love that you're part of Ari’s life Wonwoo, I love that there's little quirks in her personality that come from you. That come from all four of us. She's a little mini version of all of us and I love that. It may not be normal to everyone but it's normal to us. So. You didn't need my blessing or anything. But just know that I love you both and I know me and Mingyu will joke around about it but don't feel the need to not be yourselves. Because I can't wait to see what you become." 

“Jeonghan," you sniffle and pull him into a hug, Wonwoo and Mingyu trying to steady you both what with you both still being on their laps. 

“I would threaten you and tell you not to hurt her," he wipes a tear from his cheek when he pulls back, “but I know you won't." 

“I won’t," Wonwoo says softly, his arms finally wrapping around you again. 

“We er," you wipe your eyes, “we said last night that we'd wait a while to tell Areum. Figure how we’re us before we do it." 

“Good plan." Mingyu smiles, squeezing Wonwoo’s shoulder. 

“Right. Enough emotions," Jeonghan slaps his legs and stands up, “the boss’ll be back soon. Mingyu you said you needed to edit something. If you do it now then we can all eat the pizza together." 

“Oh right yeah," he rushes to stand up. “I'm pleased for you," he ruffles Wonwoo’s hair and kisses the side of your head before he jogs up the stairs. 

“I've got really great sister husbands." Wonwoo beams at you as you laugh at him. 

“Would it not be brother husbands?" You ponder, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Whatever it is, they're really great." 

“So great." You smile and place a gentle kiss on his lips. 

“Happy?" 

“More than I've ever been." 

"MOOOOMMMMMY I’M HOOOME!” 

"Shit!” Wonwoo basically throws you off him before Areum and three sets of grandparents appear in the living room. 

“I've been reading a new book." 

“Don't eat with your mouth full of food," Mingyu says and Ari very dramatically stops talking to finish what she's eating, all four of you waiting to hear what she's going to say. 

If this is another Agatha Christie then you're going to really need a stern word with Wonwoo. You're all for them reading together. She won't even need to learn to read at school because Wonwoo’s been reading her full novels since she was a baby. She just sort of knew how to read and started reading full on tomes. But she's going to be reading Great Expectations before she's even in double digits, you're going to run out of books at this rate. 

“Finished.” She shows Mingyu her mouth and he recoils in disgust. 

"What's your book honey?” 

"Cinderalla,” 

"An age appropriate book?” You mumble, smiling sarcastically at Wonwoo’s glare he sends your way. 

"Did you like it?” 

"It’s a bit boring. I don't know why she needed a prince, she could've just locked her step mommy away and stolen all the jewellery.” 

The three of you turn to Wonwoo. 

"What?” He says defensively, taking a bite of his pizza. "That's not an Agatha Christie.” 

"It is,” Areum corrects him happily. “And Gyugyu said you shouldn't talk with your mouth full of food." 

He stops chewing for a second in shock, the three of you trying not to laugh at him being told off by a four year old. 

"What about Cinderalla Ari?” Wonwoo ignores all your very pointed looks.

"Well the prince,” she wriggles in her seat to get comfy and tell you all about her book, "is really nice to Cinderella even though she looks a bit boring at the start  he does all of these nice things for her like finds her shoe and then she's really happy and he keeps being nice to her and then they live happily ever after.”

“Did you enjoy it then?" Hoping this new found interest in fairy tales might draw her away from Poirot. 

“Not really. But I was thinking." 

Oh god.

“What about honeybun?" Jeonghan asks, giving her another slice of pizza. 

“Well Woowoo does really nice things for mommy and he's always finding things she's lost and even when she looks like a scarecrow when she's just woken up and he's grumpy because he's woken up late he still smiles when he sees mommy and you and Gyugyu don't do that and so I think Woowoo probably makes mommy as happy as the prince because he does nice things for her and makes her happy and I think" she takes a deep breath from her rambling, “that they will live happily ever after." 

All four of you gawk at her, not that she cares, she's too busy taking the pepperoni off Mingyu's pizza and adding it to hers. 

“Ari," Jeonghan says softly, deciding to ask this himself because he can see you and Wonwoo are a bit shocked, “would you be ok with that though? If they lived happily ever after like the prince and Cinderella?" 

“Mmmmmmmm," she taps her chin, thinking and leaving a greasy finger mark from the pizza, “I think so. Mommy smiles a lot when Woowoo is here." She whispers to Jeonghan like she's telling him her darkest secrets. "And I like it best when mommy smiles because she's my best friend.” 

Fuck a duck. 

"Why are you crying mommy? Did Gyugyu do something?” She frowns very seriously at Mingyu, her little arms folded. 

"No honey,” you wipe your eyes, "and I'm not sad. I'm just very proud of you.” 

"Because I read Cinderella?” 

"Well yes, but more because you're you.” 

"Who else would I be?” Her brows knit together as she picks her pizza up. 

"No-one honey,” you chuckle, the other three joining in with you as you watch her tuck into her pizza with much too much pepperoni, not caring that she's just taken a massive weight of all your minds. 

"Turns out it was just you two that didn't know.” Mingyu mutters, but soon stops looking so smug when you kick him in the leg. 

"God I wish they wouldn't just roam around,” Wonwoo dodges a six year old dressed as a sheep. 

"I don't see why they need to do this at all. Why not just put on a normal talent show?” Jeonghan glares at some glitter that's landed on his new jacket. 

"Because it's Christmas.” You say through gritted teeth, pulling Wonwoo out of the line of fire of a three foot candy cane who was running past, “and so everyone needed to dress for the festive season." 

“What’s festive about a sheep?" Wonwoo demands. 

“I don't fucking know." You grumble. 

“_____!" 

No. No no no. You cannot deal with the mothers of the parent teacher association. 

“Hi!" You turn around to them, your biggest and yet fakest smile plastered on your face. 

“I see you've all come," the three women nod at the men flanking you. 

“We wouldn't miss it," Mingyu beams proudly. 

“We just wanted to ask, we're putting on a dance for valentine's day." 

“Isn't that months away?" Wonwoo asks. 

“Which one are you?" One of them asks condescendingly. 

“Jeon Wonwoo, senior cardiothoracic surgeon at Asan Medical Centre," he holds his hand out and you try not to smile. 

“O-oh," they all look a little taken aback as they shake his hand. Clearly they weren't banking on that. You swear they think you're in a quadruple or whatever it would be. It really isn't that hard to grasp that four people can bring up a child and it doesn't mean they're in a cult or a weird joint marriage. 

“Mommy," Areum rushes up to you, “I've forgotten my tinsel crown." 

“I've got a spare!" Mingyu pulls some tinsel out from his pocket. 

“Thank you Gyugyu!" And she runs off again. 

“We just wanted to know if you remembered the bake stall for after the talent show," 

You hate how they look at you. They think because your home set up isn't normal that it must mean you're all idiots that don't know what day of the week it is, let alone able to function like a regular family. 

“I've made brownies, cupcakes and a pretty impressive bunt cake, if I do say so myself," Jeonghan cockily high fives Mingyu. 

“Oh. I see." 

Fuck do you feel smug. 

"And we needed a donation for the……..” 

"I made a sizeable donation on behalf of all of us two days ago. The principal actually called me herself saying how grateful she was.” You say in a sickly sweet voice. 

"Really?” They all falter, looking between each other. 

"Moooommmmy,” Areum comes rushing over again, "sorry I just need to speak to my mommy.” She says to wicked witches of the pta, "Mommy. Could you please remind Woowoo that he said we were going to the bookstore on the way home, I'm not talking to him because he ate my last chocolate Santa." 

“I'll tell him." You nod very seriously. 

“Bye!" She waves at the pta mothers and runs off again. 

“I wish mine would read willingly," one of the kinder of the mothers mumbles, much to disgust of her friends. 

“You were saying something about valentine's day?" 

“What?" 

“Isn't that why you came over? I presume you had a reason and it wasn't just because you like to belittle my girlfriend." 

Ooooooh, now he's done it. All three of them bristle at Wonwoo’s comment but you can tell they're still trying to keep that fake polite exterior. You're going to give him such good head when you get home. 

“Not at all, well all love seeing you all!" 

Just as they finish that lie, a loud crash rings around the room and a teacher starts shouting at two boys. 

“Oh," Mingyu frowns, “isn't that two of yours?" He points at two of the pta women. 

“It's not Areum is it?" Jeonghan asks knowing full well it isn't. 

“No, she's sitting with her friend over there, helping her plait her hair.” Wonwoo points out. 

Satisfaction. In it's purest form, seeing your perfectly behaved, if not overly opinionated daughter, showing just how well she's been brought up by her "not normal” family. And then their son’s acting like little shits and being given detention at six years old. Perfection. 

"Valentine's day?” You ask again. 

"Oh right,” they drag their eyes away from the chaos, a look a evil on their faces again, “We wondered if we should have a daddy/ daughter dance or if it would upset Areum.” 

"Why would it upset Areum?” You demand before the other three can ask anything. 

"Well,” the leader smirks, "we wouldn't want to cause trouble.” 

These fucking people. What gives them the right? 

"Areum has three dads who love her. Who are here, unlike your children’s fathers. You might not get our family but you are no better than us because your children have just a mother and a father. Families come in all shapes and sizes and she’s loved and cared for and that's all that matters. If you don't like that, then I feel sorry for you. But do not go out of your way to insult the three men that have helped make that girl what she is today." 

They stare at you before scuttling off back under whatever hole they wriggled out of. 

"That,” Wonwoo pulls you to him, "was fucking hot.” He whispers in your ear. 

"I feel like a princess when a knight defends her honour,” Mingyu smiles. 

"Hey _____,” someone grabs your arm, "I couldn't have put it better myself, they did the same to me and my wife. Well done.” One of the mother’s from Ari’s class says proudly before she needs to rush off to find their daughter. 

“Seats please!" Someone shouts and cuts off any proud gloating you were about the embark on. 

“We should've bought a hip flask," Jeonghan complains, leading the way. 

“Is that a goat? What does a goat have to do with Christmas?" Wonwoo complains, glaring at the other children as you drag him to his seat, Mingyu following behind you both. 

"Maybe it's the goat of Christmas past.” You and Wonwoo stop and turn to Mingyu, a look of disgust on your faces. 

"What?! That was a good one!” 

"Come on, I don't want to miss Ari,” you sigh. 

You take your seats, Mingyu next to an old lady who flusters when he says hello to her, Jeonghan next to him and you inbetween Jeonghan and Wonwoo. All of you waiting for the torture that's to come. 

Children come and go, singing (or trying to), dancing (and falling), one even did a performance of her impersonating her fish. Five minutes of her just opening and closing her mouth dressed like what seemed to be a trout before someone finally put her, and Wonwoo, out of their misery. 

But finally it's Areum's turn. She's performing Jingle Bells with her friend, dressed entirely in tinsel for reasons only known to them, and they even have little sets of bells to accompany their singing. 

The old lady on the piano starts and they start singing. No nerves, no tantrums, just a happy little girl singing the song her and friend had learnt two weeks ago in your kitchen when Jeonghan said he'd help them. 

For all of Wonwoo’s complaining about the calibre of performances and declaring that most of the children should be in a zoo, you watch him watching Areum and her friend with nothing but pride in his eyes. They're horrendously out of tune and the bells are definitely not in time with the piano or the singing. But to Wonwoo? He'd probably declare it a Grammy worthy performance. 

Their song ends and people politely clap them like they do for every perfomance but this round of applause is a little different. Because this time three men stand and give a standing ovation to the two little girls on the stage, hooting and hollering making sure that both girls know how well they've performed. 

It's as you join them, sour faced parents around you who glare out of the corner of their eyes, and cheer your little girl, that you realise just how lucky you both are that you realised how bad things were that day when baby Areum wouldn't stop crying. 

Things got better. Things got a whole lot better. And it isn't just down to Mingyu, Wonwoo and Jeonghan. It's down to the fact that you knew you had people to help you. That even when you felt alone in the world, you still deep down knew that you weren't. 

As the cheering ends and you sit back down, Wonwoo turns to you, his hand taking yours. 

“I love you." 

“I love you too." 

“Marry me." 

🏷️@rutheaflowers @haokanie @bramos91 @fzenn @blueyedcutiepie1186 @coupsv @vwintershire @toohyperactiveforyou12 @cheolwoo @jaja-salute @sejeonggggg @shhib0l @epelletart @wonwooslefttiddie @fwairychlo3 @mixuicecream @joongtime @4kwp @ninigyuuu @sami4jeonghani @ashlinxloves @cardi-bre91 @adoreuzi @whatisthis04

Your boyfriend holds up both palms, attempting to appease the cranky beast wearing your skin. It had been a four-hour drive. A long, winding, and gps-failing drive. And he had the inkling that you weren't too ecstatic about... well, anything at this point.

Within the first hour of the road trip, you'd managed to recreate a chaotic version of the once carefully coordinated map your friends had sent you; with loops and turns they surely hadn't suggested. And after passing the third intended exit and cursing your innocent boyfriend for being a 'passenger peasant', you forfeited the wheel to him on the side of a random, desolate highway.

Needless to say, Mingyu was far past the point of redemption. You'd made that very clear to him at the last pit stop; His breathing was too loud. He reeked of the cologne he'd practically bathed himself in this morning. His lips were too dry for kissing away your frustration. His directions were shit. He couldn't avoid any of the potholes you'd warned him of from nearly a mile back--

Then, to top it all off, he just rammed your recently-fully paid-off Jeep into a stray log you'd pointed out to him far too late. But at least you both made it to the location in one piece!

How long would that last? He doesn't know, and he isn't going to stay in the car long enough find out.

"Hey! Glad you guys made it!" Seungcheol's hair bounces while striding over to you, assisting you both with carrying bags and other miscellaneous items you'd packed into the trunk.

"We were beginning to think we should file a missing person report for you once the three-hour mark hit." He admits, tongue-in-cheek.

The glare you flash at your partner lands cooly against the side of his paled face, not once connecting with the eyes you so desperately wanted to bore every ounce of your frustration into.

Mingyu doesn't dare to face you, nor mention any true details when he responds to his friend, "Ha! Yeah.. we just made a few stops on the way to take pictures and stuff."

Thankfully, Seungcheol doesn't probe after that and instead ushers you both inside to greet everyone else inside the lake house.

It was almost a month ago when Seungcheol and his girlfriend had finally announced their engagement. And along with a congratulatory message, Chan had proposed the idea of celebrating with a weeklong getaway to the lake house his family rented out occasionally. Mingyu and yourself were invited; hence your extended travel.

With the three couples now reunited, the group ventured into the conversation regarding their well-anticipated vacation and the tasks and activities they were hoping to indulge in throughout the following days.

Despite the rocky start, you too had been eagerly counting down the days leading up to today. It'd been so long since you had requested any time off from work, let alone treated yourself to such a relaxing and well-deserved vacation.

As of late, work had seeped into your personal schedule and set things off balance for you, and in return, you'd gained a daily migraine and a newfound passion for bed rotting on the days you did have time to yourself.

However, you weren't completely at a loss. Mingyu was there to uplift you, coddle you, cheer you on when deadlines were fraying your last scraps of hope.

You couldn't possibly confine your gratitude and adoration for your boyfriend into only a few words, so when the opportunity arose for you both to spend quality time together, you were beyond elated.

You both needed this.

After a few minutes of chatting and catching up with the two couples, Mingyu and yourself plod along to the bedroom Chan had assigned to you.

Mingyu wastes no time upon entering the room, carelessly tossing your shared belongings onto one of the two full sized beds and flopping face down into the other.

"Man, I'm drained." He groans.

The same fatigue weighs unbearably on your shoulders, dampening your mood completely. Huffing, you trudge toward your strewed bags, sluggishly moving them off of the bed that Mingyu has apparently allotted to you.

You do your best to ward off your frustration with Mingyu's carelessness, opting to give him the benefit of the doubt considering he was forced to endure your irritable attitude for the majority of the drive.

You just hoped this wasn't some type of foreshadowing for the rest of the week.

"You could've at least put the stuff on the ground so I could lay down too." You complain halfheartedly.

In one moment, he's lifting his head from the comforter to peer over at you with a pinched expression, and in the next, he's bounding towards you before you can fully register it. His hands brace your waist, firm and intentional as he directs you to the now warm spot he previously claimed.

"This is our bed." He states forwardly while bending at the knee to untie your shoes. "Did you think just 'cause you're a little moody and on vacation mode meant you'd catch a break from me?"

You blow out your flushed cheeks and sigh dramatically, too embarrassed and exhausted to play into his banter. His eyes trail your features for a beat when he stands. Soon after, the warm pads of his fingers mark a path across your skin, laying delicately against your jaw.

"Tired?"

Nodding wordlessly, you watch him climb into the bed beside you. He reels you in close, caging you against him with a firm hand on the small of your back as his opposite fist props his head up.

"...'m sorry for snapping at you." You murmur coyly.

Mingyu's blinks slow. His softened stare shifting to your lips.

You notice. You always do.

"I know." He speaks. "It's been a long day, but at least we're here. You can rest up and dream peacefully about me now."

You grunt at his comment, feigning disgust to tease him. The grin on his face is stupidly endearing, and you find yourself mirroring his expression despite your eyes fluttering shut.

It surprises you at times; four years have passed and his devoted attachment to you has yet to dwindle. Or as his family claims, his puppy love hasn't fizzled out. And at this rate, you doubt it ever will.

"Don't act like you don't dream about me, baby. I've heard you calling for me in your sleep a few times."

You peel your eyes open to squint at him. "I have not! And I don't dream about you, you dork."

"You do." He smirks before flicking your forehead in retaliation with the argument of being 'even' now. "It's okay though, I don't mind. It lets me know I'm doing my job."

"And what exactly is your job?"

Leaning into your space, his entirety invades your senses. Your skin prickles under his cool breaths as he noses at your chin, chuckling when you alert him of being ticklish. As if he hasn't mapped every inch of you for years, well versed in the handful of spots that have you writhing, crying, and whimpering for him.

"My job is..." He trails off.

Unsuspecting, you're forced to endure his unprovoked attack. His touch rakes over your sides repeatedly, breaching every inch of skin beneath your sweatshirt to place featherlike strokes along your body. You struggle underneath his tortuous ministrations, clawing at his arms helplessly while begging for mercy.

Only, the pinch to his bicep, the boisterous squeal and the writhing of your torso seem to egg him on further, his grip on you unrelenting as he continues to tickle you.

He eventually pauses to chide into your ear, "My job is to love you so much that you don't ever have to wonder what anything otherwise feels like. You are my everything, and I'm yours. Whether you want me or not."

Your chest inflates with each erratic inhale you take to recollect yourself.

You're familiar with Mingyu's empowerment, his reassurance, his effortless passion for all things involving you.

But this?

This was unrehearsed. Raw. Truth right at the core.

"Gyu," Your voice wavers, cracking under the straining lump in your throat. Your chin trembles slightly at the sudden whiplash he's put your emotions through.

"Are you crying? Why are you crying? Please don't cry!" He blurts, sandwiching your face in between his palms until your lips are puckered.

Your digits wrap around his wrists, reinforcing his hold as he captures your lips in his. Dramatics be damned, your boyfriend knew exactly what to do to get his way. He was a hopeless romantic through and through, and when it came to craving your affection, he'd do and/or say anything to woo you into submission.

Tonight's situation was no different.

His laugh bounces within the four walls of your room; a sound worth bottling for later.

His hands are gone from one moment to the next, leaving you slightly breathless and admittedly dizzy from the sudden switch up.

Still hovering over you, Mingyu watches you closely, smile stretched across the dewy slope of his cheeks. He knows his wires are most likely crossed somewhere because your mere presence stuns him to near cardiac arrest every time his eyes find you.

And its moments like this, pressed in close, that he often wonders; if he gets any closer to you, would he be able to catch the sound of your barreling heart too?

With Mingyu deep in thought, you utilize the brief moment to capture his wrists and pin them above his head once you've mustered enough strength to roll him onto his back. The abrupt tackle is all it takes to throw Mingyu off his axis, landing directly underneath your scrutinizing stare.

Again, call him deranged, but he doesn't perceive anything besides love behind your crazed appearance. If anything, it's what fuels his own deepest desires; shaping his lips into the lopsided, smitten smile he wears now.

You give his hips a tantalizing squeeze between your knees, calling his name to break him out of his lovestruck trance. He responds with a feigned groan accompanied by a dramatic toss of his head.

"Spare me this once, beautiful. I can't take it, you're just too powerful."

You fend off a smile and clutch his wrists a little tighter.

The same laugh from earlier cuts through the air as he clenches and unclenches his fists under your grip, peeling one of his eyes open to assess you from his peripheral vision.

"Are you enjoying this?" You jest.

"Not yet." He quips while simultaneously escaping your restraints and locking your lips with his, moving starved and unmeasured.

You revel in the moan that coats your tongue, elated when his body responds under your grasp via the flex of his thighs and the subtle tremble in the hands curved over your ass. You're eager to get him closer to the edge of his ascending pleasure, working your hips against the front of his taut jeans with vigor.

"Guys? We're heading out to the store to pick up a few groceries for the week--"

The gasp at the door indicates a new presence and based on the sudden dip in her usual tone, you know you've officially earned yourself a lifetime's worth of apologies on both yours and Mingyu's behalf. Not only to Nari, but to Chan; who just so happened to have been tailing his girlfriend closely.

With Mingyu pinned below you and still actively holding your ass, you strain your upper half to face the couple at the door.

"I'm so sorry... um. We'll meet you outside in five minutes."

Per your boyfriend's logic, the fuss isn't significant enough to derail his plans as he proceeds to chase after your attention. He's so far gone, so nonchalant enough to wriggle his way into a seated position just to litter the side of your throat with open-mouthed kisses.

Blanching, you shove at his chest, blindly fighting him off behind you.

The embarrassment of being found in the least demure position possible sets every inch of your skin ablaze, Mingyu's suctioning mouth and ravenous nipping proving to be little help.

Nari has since turned around while Chan shuts your door with a clearing of his throat. You hang your head as he calls from the hall, "Yup! We'll be outside! Take your time."

"Finally." Mingyu grumbles, squirming from the distance your extended arm supplies against his chest. Leveling him with an incredulous stare, you shove his shoulders until he falls backwards onto the bed.

"Are you kidding me? You couldn't at least wait until they left to give me a hickey?" You seethe while marching towards the door, unfazed by his tormented cries.

"You've officially lost all pussy privileges, Mingyu."

"Wait! No!"

The atmosphere is tainted beneath the evening's burnt orange gleam, nestled into the crooks and curves of the six bodies draped across lawn chairs, just short of the lake's dock.

The bonfire Seungcheol had started an hour or so ago breezes past your exposed ankles from under the towel sitting at your waist, surfacing a layer of goosebumps across your skin.

Draped over your shoulders are Mingyu's arms, embracing you from where he stands behind your chair—mindlessly seeking the comfort of your kinship. Instinctually, your body melts into his touch, tacitly imploring for more.

Spending years essentially conjoined at the hip pays off in moments like this; when Mingyu doesn't rely on a single verbal cue to understand each and every one of your voiceless quirks, habits and requests.

It's how he's able to identify your wordless plea now; to which he honorably responds to with a feather light kiss to the crown of your head.

He murmurs a string of praise into your hair, planting another kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder and inhaling the fresh aroma of your sun kissed flesh.

"You cold?" He asks while running the tips of his fingers up and down your arms.

You lift your chin to peer behind you, coming face to face with your lover. He smiles, an authentic, exclusive gesture dedicated for your soul only. You mirror it with your own, disregarding the beer you had in your hold to cradle one of sun-tanned cheeks.

"Pretty girl." He coos.

Your head swims with pleasure, keen to exist in this intimate bubble that encapsulates you both, even if it's for a fleeting moment. Your surroundings morph into background noise as you shut your eyes temporarily, basking in his affection.

One of his hands leaves your arm, alternatively rooting yours in its place against his cheek to press his lips to the inside of your palm. He lingers there for a moment before pulling away, a faint trace of a frown splitting between his brows.

"You are cold."

You shrug nonchalantly without looking away, gauging his response curiously. He fidgets with the strap of your bikini top briefly.

"As much as I love admiring you in this cute little number, I prefer to have my girl fully bundled up and warm when I kiss her."

"I know but if I go inside to change, I won't want to come back out and I really don't want the night to end yet.." You whine, already pulling away from his hold to focus on the sea of overlapping conversations around you.

"I know, I know, but I can't risk having you catch a cold. Come on. We'll be quick, I promise."

You give a defeated, begrudging wave to the group as you finish your beer, stalling for a moment in silent hope of convincing Mingyu to stay a little longer.

Being the expert in all things regarding you, he catches on and gives you a disapproving shake of his head before taking measures into his own hands.

Supporting your thighs and head in his arms, Mingyu lifts you from your chair and makes the effortless trek back to the lodge. Your sandal-clad feet swing aimlessly from their airborne height, occasionally landing against his hip as he shuffles through the doors.

After shouldering past the final obstacle leading to your bedroom, Mingyu sets you down at the edge of the bed with a chaste kiss, then tasks himself with scavenging through your bag for a warmer outfit.

You watch the bulk of his muscles flex with his movements, grateful for the afternoon's swimming session for blessing you now with the mouthwatering sight of your shirtless boyfriend.

The soft tune he hums under his breath comes to a pause as he returns with a neat stack of clothes, claiming the space in between your legs to hand them over to you.

"I can't believe you were out there freezing your ass off. And for what? To torment me with your beauty? 'Cause it worked."

You can't help the boisterous cackle that slips from your throat, creasing your eyes into crescents as you smile mischievously.

"Let's get you out of this poor excuse of a bathing suit." He suggests sweetly. "I'll help you get nice and warm, 'kay?"

"Only if you also put a shirt on because—what was it that you said?—Oh; I prefer my man to be nice and warm when I suck his dick."

He's in the middle of unbuckling your shorts when his fingers tighten their pinched grip at your zipper. "I don't recall saying anything about that."

"Hm, maybe not, but the implication was there."

He peers up at you incredulously and you grin.

Mingyu's own fond chuckle combines with your lingering giggles, nostalgia settling deep into that familiar nook in your chest. The nook that treasured this banter, this closeness, this love you'd laid a claim on long before you both had made anything official in the beginning.

The memory manifests in your mind; of Mingyu's distant laughter when you'd rant to him about trivial situations at work until you were red in the face, or when you'd unintentionally allow your face to speak for you in awkward situations and he'd laugh throughout his reminder for you to reign it in. It being your chronic RBF.

And even during the quietest of moments, when he'd invite you to his quaint, unfurnished apartment and you'd both lay on the floor for hours, laughing at nothing and everything at the same time.

It didn't matter as long as you were together, enjoying the natural easiness of coexisting in the myriad of moments you knew to be your narrative's budding storyline.

You blink away the reminiscent tears threatening to spill over, pivoting your attention to the present Mingyu.

He's caught on to your silence, of course, and has already begun to catch your rolling tears with his thumb. He doesn't utter a word to you, and you prefer it that way. You're confident in his ability to read you and all of your feelings, anyways.

His forehead nudges yours playfully as he leans forward, guiding you to lay flat on your back with his body caging yours from above. His delicate touch ebbs away at the remnants of your overwhelming mood, supplying you with the attentiveness you accept with open arms.

Your smile gradually fades into a much softer, vulnerable simper.

"Well," You prompt, voice raspy while drawing your gaze to the rich, velvety depth of his fawn-eyed stare. "You said you'd keep me warm, so get to it, big guy."

There isn't a hint of hesitation in his movements as he dips his head to nip at your jaw. A bolt of greed strikes through you and straight to your core, sparking your sensitivity by tenfold.

You exhale a weak sigh while he works his way down your torso before parking his mouth at the hem of your swimming bottoms. Your eyes meet shortly. Mingyu pauses, awaiting the green flag. For permission.

You give him a persistent nod, and he disappears out of reach, collapsing to his knees and cradling the back of your thighs in his large hands. You're approaching the brink of impatience when his fingers remove your bottoms with one swift yank, admiring your bareness to its full potential with the barrier between him and your sweet cunt now long gone.

Your toes curl in anticipation of what's to come. Your mouth salivating at the mere idea of having him so close when you already feel so high, heedlessly plummeting yourself deeper into your crazed infatuation.

The creeping presence of his mouth on your folds is nothing but a short-lived greeting. A farewell to your libido before it even had the chance to introduce itself.

You practically howl out in protest as he curls his fingers around your ankles, guiding a new set of panties and sweats up your legs and then having the audacity to place two—emphasis on the TWO—pathetic pecks to each of your calves on the way up.

Mingyu's shoulders quiver at the expense of his breathless laughter.

Yes. He is Laughing.

Laughing at you? With you? You don't know.

And at this point, you don't bother with the details, choosing instead to dedicate the entirety of your frustration to him and his entire bloodline.

"Oh you're such a jerk." You hiss while launching yourself up into a seated position.

"You know, I'm beginning to think you enjoy having blue balls."

"You're the only horny one here, babe. I'm chillin'." He replies, smug.

"Besides, weren't you the one who put the pussy ban in place literally three days ago?"

You offer him a scoff and cross your arms over your chest as he reaches for your bikini top. His hands freeze midair when you peel it off yourself and wretch your t-shirt from the bed, grumbling under your breath while dragging it over your head.

You stomp your way towards the door before turning back, glowering.

"Don't come crawling to me when your dick is bordering falling off later."

Your snide warning weighs on Mingyu's lower abdomen as his eyes trail after your retreating form. A troubled sigh enters the room as he changes, thoughts scrambled while he sifts through his luggage for a fresh pair of socks.

His fingers graze over the distinct velvet material cradled at the bottom of the suitcase before settling on what he'd been searching for, combing through his disheveled hair with the opposite hand.

"Three more days, two more nights." He murmurs to himself.

"I can do this."

It's in the wee hours of Friday morning when your dreams depart and the discomfort of your racing thoughts replace them. There's something off, something missing, and it urges your eyes to flutter beneath your eye lids, frantic.

You hear the muffled presence of someone rustling in the hallway from beyond your door first; piquing your interest enough to jostle you out of your slumber. The second peculiarity presents itself in the chilling absence of your partner, Mingyu.

The seemingly perfect cut-out of his frame has been left in his place atop the crumpled sheets, indicating that he was laying with you at some point. The question was; where was he now?

You're tossed into an oblivion of questions and what-if scenarios coursing through your groggy headspace. With a rub of your eyes and a glance at the time on your phone, you peel the comforters back and tread towards the door on unsteady legs.

The noise has since traveled further out when you turn the knob and step out into the night's dim ocean of blue hues. A dull glint cascading through the curtained windows and over the oakwood features of the home illuminates your path.

Your head swivels towards the slight movement in your peripheral, your sleep-glazed stare catching sight of a shadowed figure hunched over the kitchen counter.

Had you not accompanied Chan on the task of locking up and securing the home every night, you would have crawled beneath the covers as tears clung to your lashes, dreading the unknown outcome of having an intruder, out for blood, roaming inside the house while everyone slept.

Thankfully, your safety in the home was undebatable, and far more importantly, you're beyond unamused by the rude disruption of your sleep to question your next decision.

After hearing the soft clank of glass and Mingyu's recognizable husky curse, you mindlessly saunter his way and instinctively embrace him from behind as he's faced away from you.

His body jerks and a sharp yelp slips out. Whipping around in your arms, Mingyu gives you a once over and his once bugging eyes soften with familiarity. He pulls you in closer to his chest, hand forking through your hair as you rest against him.

“What’re you doing up?” You voice is slightly muffled by his shirt.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answers, frowning. “Just kept thinking... so I came out to get some water.”

You adjust your head to look up at him; eyes now fixated on his milky brown irises. His face blooms into a passive smile, cupping your cheek in his large palm.

“Thinking ‘bout what?” You murmur.

His unoccupied hand rests above your tail bone, inching lower and lower as his breath pulls into a sharp inhale.

“About…you.” He admits and despite just having woken up, your nervous system is already kicking and running wild at the statement.

“Me?” You frown slightly, curious. “What about me?”

You follow the motion of his lolled head cocking backwards, his eyes now facing the ceiling as he offers a pensive hum. His fingers lock around your hips, keeping you close.

“Everything.” He admits.

“Your eyes, your lips, your… breathtaking presence.”

When he returns to you, the cream light from the kitchen frames his features with the precision of a gallery artist's newest work, adding highlight to the peaks and shading to the angled impressions of his face, hair and body.

He's unquestionably stunning.

And he's yours.

Your mouth crashes against his pillowy lips long before your brain can convince you to do otherwise.

You relish in the pressure his fingers dimple your skin with, your lips dancing in the practiced waltz you're incapable of loving any less.

The soft smacking sound of your mouths rings between you before you're detouring to pepper the rest of his face with delicate pecks.

His cheeks tighten and morph into a wide grin when you brush over them, thinning out as you hover over his chin. You notice the restless tick in his jaw and pull away to assess him further, only to be reeled back in by the back of your head.

The hand in your hair is sturdy, tangling your locks into a makeshift leash while his other works at your jaw, applying pressure to your flushed cheeks to purse your lips together for him.

Your knees have locked up. Your feet feel heavy and your arms are slung haphazardly around his waist. The level of submission you've delivered to him on a silver platter is astounding to you, considering he's been avoiding your advances for the entirety of the week. Even if it was your doing.

And you almost find it aggravating how easily your body responds to him. Needy, desperate, aching for him.

“I’ve been,” he captures your mouth with his, vulgar and starved. “So patient.” Kiss. “So well behaved.” Another kiss. “So you could truly relax and avoid being cooped up in bed with me..."

He surfaces for a moment to breathe, eyeing your dazed expression in between. When your eyes meet his, they're glassy, dilated and so full of lust that it drives him crazy. He dives back in, tongue and mouth unrelenting against your moans.

Another break in the kiss gifts him the chance to continue his thoughts.

"But you always wreck me. Always muddle my mind with your sly little remarks, your needy eyes that follow me around, and your perfect fucking mouth that smiles, frowns, and kisses me every day."

“Gyu,” you whimper when he hikes a knee between your thighs, flexing the taut muscle into your clothed center. “We.. mmh.. we can’t.”

His teeth graze your bottom lip viciously, tugging at the plump flesh until you wince and he can taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

“I can't hold back anymore, baby. I gave you more than enough time to rest and enjoy your time here, but now I'm crawling back to you, just like you said I would.”

Your protest dies in your throat with the harsh grasp of his hand cupping your pussy over your shorts. You can feel every single one of his fingers digging into your soaked flesh, truly testing your restraint when his lips trail after yours while you wriggle your way out of his reach.

You don't make it far before he's scooping you up by the back of your thighs and hauling you into the living room. The wind is knocked out of your lungs when he tosses you onto the cushions of the couch and climbs over you.

"Mingyu," You whisper-yell through gritted teeth. "We can't. It's like three in the morning and our friends are literally a few feet away, sleeping!"

If looks could kill, you would’ve been six feet under about two minutes ago with how sharpened his dark and nearly bottomless eyes have become.

Mingyu’s eyes bore into your soul, inky and challenging. You cross your arms over your chest as a subconscious shield against your boyfriend’s persistence.

“No.” You snap, pointing a finger at him accusingly. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Your chances of returning to your bed peacefully have vanished into thin air when Mingyu grabs a hold of your wrist and crosses them above your head. He dips down to nibble at your ear, deliberately filling your head with the sound of his drawn-out groans and haughty breathing.

You struggle to regain your strength under his grip for a few minutes before ultimately becoming limp in his hold, forfeiting all resistance.

"There you go," Mingyu croons.

"Let me take care of you. Have you all to myself for just a little longer, hm? Doesn't that sound good to you?"

His words crawl along your skin, piercing pins and needles all throughout your body. You squirm in his hold; your bottom lip pulled in between your teeth.

"I'll keep quiet if you can, baby. Y'gotta try not to wake everyone up."

“You and I both know you can’t keep quiet to save your life, Mingyu.” You hiss harmlessly and lean your head against the arm rest in defeat.

“I can try this time.” He nearly whines, both his tough facade and grip on your wrists faltering in favor of reaching underneath your sleep shirt to trace his blunt nails over your stomach and chest. “Promise."

Your muscles loosen under his touch, emotionally sold on the idea of having such a needy man wrapped around your finger. He truly is the manifestation of a wet dream.

“Fuck,” you groan and take advantage of the disappearance of his grip to swap positions and straddle his hips. Your palms come up to rest at either side of his head.

With your straightened arms being within his reach, Mingyu proceeds to trail a lewd, wet stripe of his tongue on your inner wrist and arm, all the while keeping his gaze fixed with yours.

The shiver that comes with it is enough of an answer for Mingyu to reclaim his stake on your body, bracing himself on his elbows to crash his mouth into yours and lure you into him.

Your groans and whimpers are muted against his lips and you find yourself yearning for more; your friends' peace be damned.

You realize you're admittedly hypocritical when your goal at making Mingyu feel good is far more significant to you than their precious beauty sleep.

You tease him with a curved and intentional grind over his hips, grazing the hardened tent of his sweats. You take his choked-out whine as your green light to continue.

Leaning down, you delve into a passionate kiss that pries his lips apart. Another moan escapes you when you feel his tongue invading the heat of your mouth, twirling amongst yours feverishly.

Being the sly fox that he is, Mingyu takes it upon himself to grant himself access to your ass, cupping a cheek in each of his large hands and parting them beneath your shorts and panties.

One guttural moan later and you both come up for a breath of air, gasping into each other's slick mouths.

“You really want to make a mess of yourself tonight, don’t you?” You ask lowly.

Breathless, he nods his head and answers with a shaky, “Yes. Please.”

The corner of your mouth quirks in amusement. He’s never been one to act coy in times like this, and hardly ever puts on a tough guy front for you when you ask him for anything pertaining to pleasure. After all, he's here for you, he’s mentioned it countless of times; whether it's shown in the form of free use or a simple switch in dynamic, he’s all for it as long as you’re content and comfortable.

Flickering your sight from his eyes to his hidden erection, your request is conveyed to Mingyu effortlessly, despite him having initiated all of this.

With a single nod of approval, Mingyu guides your hand towards the band of his sweats. He exhales through his nose as your tongue darts out to wet your lips between the fleeting gaze of his strained dick and his wrecked expression.

You apply an excessive amount of pressure against his untouched cock with the heel of your palm, causing him to squirm with a string of curses in tow.

"You really are so worked up for me, puppy. Just look at you..."

"Had you let me have a taste sooner, you wouldn't be in so much pain now, and I wouldn't be so fucking empty." You tut.

His features are screwed into a relieving mixture of delight and libido-driven anguish as you proceed to graze the damp splotch over his sweats, exchanging your palm for your nails to trace the outline of his twitching cock.

Mingyu’s adams apple bobs with a shallow swallow. When you settle back on your heels to ease his pants and boxers down, he does his best to accommodate you with the little sliver of space he has on the couch by tugging you closer to his chest.

"You started it." He huffs.

Your unamused and sarcastic laugh is muffled into his cheek as you place a wet kiss to his skin.

"Don't be a brat." You grumble in his ear.

Without warning, you take his leaking dick in your hand, squeezing the tip in place with a vice like grip while your opposite palm glides flat against the pre-coated head, circling over and over until he's stifling his moans into the cushion of the couch.

After a few minutes, you begin to thumb at the slit of his bulbous head before reaching down and cusping his balls in your hand, digging your nails into the skin with just enough pressure to make him writhe under you.

You keep your eyes fixed on his quivering chin as you lean over him with your jaw slack, allowing your spit to travel past your lips and drip onto his furiously red cock. Your tongue then shoots out to trace the vein splitting down the side of his length, simultaneously scraping your nails across the skin of his inner thigh and over his happy trail in a repetitive pattern.

It's after a particular forced dip of your fingers to his lower abdomen and the lick to his bobbing cock that he's desperately trying to close his thighs around your shoulders, with a garbled remark of, "I'm gonna— oh my god—shit! I'm..."

Your lips curl into a Cheshire-like grin as you cease all of your ministrations and sit up.

He nearly sobs when you pull away and it leaves you breathless and startled when he starts pawing at your chest and shoulders, jerking your body towards him. You brace yourself with your hands planted firmly against his chest.

“Please, my love, please keep going.” Tears clinging to his lashes, Mingyu stares down at you and awaits your response, impatiently guiding your hips in circular motions over his thighs.

You tsk and grab a fistful of his hair, making him sit up with you. His whines are breathy now, less consistent and terribly pitiful.

“You’re making a lot of noise for someone who promised to keep their mouth shut.” You chide while tugging at his strands tantalizingly rough.

He responds with a pathetic whimper and a shake of his head that he struggles to show under your unrelenting grip. His wet curls cling to his sweaty forehead, framing his doll-like face with the innocence of an unblemished cherub.

“You’re going to take what I give you when I give it to you, do you understand?”

His head bobbles with haste, eager to follow directions you know he won’t be able to keep up with.

“Show me those pretty teeth, puppy.” You instruct and pull at his bottom lip with two fingers as his tongue lolls out of his mouth.

You brush the pad of your thumb against the sharp peak of his canines, sighing contently afterwords. You change fingers to stroke his tongue, reaching deep under the slobbering muscle.

His moan is pitched high and you can’t help but grin as you watch his eyes roll back, hips rutting against nothing.

“Wish you could see your pretty mouth, baby. It’s so pretty and fitted just for me.”

You nearly purr in pleasure when a low groan escapes him, and with his mouth fully open, it pulps the sound into a lewd cry.

“Suck.” You demand and he’s quick to oblige, clamping his lips around your fingers, plunging them in deeper.

You tilt your head to appreciate the view of your fingers disappearing into his mouth with every suction of his hollowing cheeks, simply enthralled by your boyfriend’s beauty both inside and out. He’s always so eager to please, and it fascinates you when he gets like this; so whiney, impatient, and drunk on loving you.

A weighted tap on your thigh piques your interest, your eyes following the feeling and discovering his bobbing cock still leaking, now nearly purple with his pent-up desire. To his disappointment, your fingers are removed from his mouth, trailing a web of spit in between the distance.

You wipe at his mouth with the back of your opposite hand, praising him for following through with his task and abiding by your rule of being patient.

His drooping eyes trail after your movements as you reposition yourself a bit lower on his thighs. Spreading the slickness of your fingers along his hard on, you continue to pump him at a decent pace.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He curses, and you smile when you catch the tremble in his muscular arms that keep him upright out of the corner of your eye.

"C'mon, my pretty boy." You drawl. "You can let go now. Come for me."

His breathless gasp is the last thing you hear before he's crashing headfirst into his orgasm, bucking his hips into your hand through his high until you're sure he's milked himself dry.

You clamber off of him to rid yourself of your bottoms and panties before claiming your spot on his thighs again, watching intently as Mingyu's breath shallows out into a more controlled rhythm.

Sweat clings to him like a fresh sheen of body oil, coating him with a glow you find yourself all the more attracted to by the second. He seems to notice your drifting thoughts as he reaches out for you and pulls you in by the elbows.

Chest to chest, gazes glued to one another, your bodies slot together like the perfect puzzle when he guides you both to lay on your sides. You trail your fingers along his jaw, inching upward until you can thread them into his damp locks.

Mingyu presses a tender kiss to your forehead, then snakes a hand down to your exposed center, skimming your slick folds between his fingertips, paired with the intoxicating press of his thumb to your clit.

"You're so beautiful."

You suppress your moan with a bashful kiss to his lips, clasping your hands behind his neck as he continues to invade your drenched entrance with his finger.

"You're so perfect."

The warmth of his mouth explores the expanse of your throat, sucking and teething at the skin until a purplish hue blooms at the surface. A second finger is followed up with a third shortly after, sinking into your pussy while your muted moans begin to hitch and shorten with every pump.

"You're all mine." The words melt against your tongue as he slots your mouths together once more, stimulating every nerve in your body as you reach your high.

He swallows the whimper you let out once his fingers have vanished completely right after your release.

You're a hair's length short of having a mental crisis before the familiar flared tip of his cock nudges at your throbbing bud. Out of reflex, you meet him halfway and rut your puffy lips over his dick, pleading for more.

Mingyu anchors you with an arm under your head and another securing your waist when he senses your eagerness, hitching your leg over his hip as he presses in closer. With a few more moments of adjustment, Mingyu eventually guides his length into you inch by inch until he bottoms out with a content hum.

“You’re my everything.” Mingyu murmurs, soft enough to be considered a whisper, but with the perfect amount of vigor to enforce the adoration in his tone.

Your dopey grin spreads like wildflowers in the spring, blooming delicately across your lips in a cherry-like hue. Snaking a hand around his back, you utilize his shoulder as leverage as you rock your hips, desperately seeking friction from the girth inside you.

“You don’t have to butter me up, Gyu. You already have me."

Your lips meet for a dominating dual between each thrust, coaxing the deepest sounds of ecstasy out from your chest and flooding his senses. His clipped, nasally whine adds fuel to your already blazing arson lining your insides.

“Not…” he pants, quickening his pace. “Buttering you up.”

Clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle your cries, you’re made painfully aware of smoldering heat building in your lower stomach, sending a storm of pleasure to your stretched walls at an unmanageable rate.

“Just—fuck—making sure…” Mingyu babbles on. “You—you know.”

Your climax is fast approaching and your mewls and high-pitched moans have progressed. In a desperate attempt to relieve the burn in gummy walls, you hike your leg up higher onto his waist, sinking yourself even deeper onto his swelling member. Your mouth shadows over his shoulder, heaving raggedly as the pressure erupts into a show of fireworks behind your screwed eyes.

Attuned with your body, Mingyu coaxes you through your tipping point, offering his shoulder to you as a mock gag. Lapping your tongue across the skin, your teeth tail behind before indenting into his muscle to hide your final drawn-out whine.

You're unsure how long your release takes to finally dwindle out, but by the time you come to, you're able to acknowledge the warmth spilling out of your cunt.

And based off of the strained breaths against your forehead, you can only assume the fluids leaking out of you partially belong to your lover. Resting his head against the arm rest of the couch, Mingyu lays flat on his back and gently lays you on his chest.

He sighs, content and satiated. "I love you so much."

The weight of his softening cock remains inside you, bathing you in a refreshing sense of comfort and intimacy with the person you love most. With the side of your flushed face stamped against his sweaty chest, right above his heart, your response is a warm hum of acknowledgment.

"I love you." You mumble tiredly.

Regathering your thoughts, you make an attempt of forming some kind of meaningful and corny expression. However, to your surprise, the chance is swept out from underneath your feet when you feel yourself being lifted.

Mingyu's joints complain against the sudden movement, but he moves either way, wobbling his way to your bedroom and laying you down gently against the pillows. He smooths a hand over the crown of your head before walking back out to the living room.

You're far too bone weary to fret over his absence when he returns with the discarded clothing in one hand while the other holds a few damp paper towels. Shutting the door behind himself, Mingyu ambles over to your side and initiates his routine aftercare, peppering you with doting praises and gentle sweet nothings as he works his way around your body, cleaning you up.

Your vision is darkening at the edges shortly after he joins you in bed, cushioning himself against your back and placing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

The imperceptible rumble of a snore escapes his chest, and his fresh linen and woodsy scent fills your senses, lulling you to sleep before you can register it.

Within your dream, you meet him again. And when you meet, he's nothing shy of the man you wish to love for eternity.

He's the embodiment of what the word home has to offer.

Yena isn't as bubbly as she normally is. Which is deeply concerning considering the fact that this trip had been catered for her and Seungcheol's engagement.

Seungcheol has also indirectly insulted your boyfriend when he didn't immediately greet him this morning—which is highly unusual—and leaving you with a sour Mingyu to tend to.

Chan and Nari had chalked it up to a hypothetical 'trouble in paradise' type of situation, which settles your nerves for a bit.

Except, the truthful reasoning is soon revealed over breakfast when the pair insinuates that their paradise is still as perfect as ever, but there is something they've avoided discussing.

"Care to share with the class?" Chan quips eyeing Seungcheol from the seat adjacent to yours at the table.

Yena and Seungcheol share an unreadable glance, shifty eyes equally against the idea of being the one to break the news.

Seungcheol falls victim to his fiancé's charm and accepts his volun-told task. clearing his throat after taking his final spoonful of his omelet.

"We didn't know we were rooming with two exhibitionists... at least, not until last night when we woke up to a certain couple getting frisky in the living room— as if they don't have their own private room."

Mingyu's lungs collapse, the air completely knocked out of him. You have to pat him on the back to prevent him from choking on his maple links.

"What?" Nari squawks, attention split between you and a very tomato-skinned Seungcheol.

"We fucked on the couch last night." You admit bluntly, chewing slower.

"Oh wow."

"Yeah."

Yena leans over the edge of her seat to peer past Seungcheol's shoulder, acknowledging your blank stare with a smug wink; a silent and slightly envious nod of approval. Mingyu fidgets in his seat, taking a sudden interest in the placemat under his plate and busying himself with a stray thread.

"Well, we didn't hear anything." Chan shrugs.

"How could you not? They were going at it like two sick, rabid animals!" Seungcheol stammers, ears hot under your unfazed nods and hums.

"To be fair, we were also pretty busy ourselves." Nari casually adds, following up with a sip of her coffee.

This time, all three men are coughing into their hands and shirts as they advert their stares from one another. Chan has appointed himself as the mediator, desperately redirecting the conversation.

You turn to Nari when she nudges you with her elbow in the midst of the group's recuperating conversation, crooking her fingers to signal you closer. You lean in and she whispers into your ear.

"Hope you guys didn't catch too much of our midnight rendezvous, Chan wanted to try something new."

You arch a brow, intrigued by her bold divulgence. She smirks and leans over once more.

"He had me call him daddy the entire night. What a freak, huh?"

Your laugh is unfiltered and loud, and you double over with the force of it. Mingyu steadies you with a hand on your waist, running a fond eye over your radiant expression.

"Must have been something in the air then, huh?"

Your banter dials down after everyone has cleared their plates and begun planning their last itinerary. You stay behind in favor of romanticizing your boyfriend's mundane chore of washing the dishes, buzzing around from one counter to the other as he tidies up the kitchen.

After finishing, Mingyu plants himself in between your knees, his full height towering over your seated form. Your hands find home on his hips as he thumbs over your chin and jaw fondly.

"Well, breakfast was a little embarrassing." He says with a coy shake of his head.

You perch your chin on his stomach and look up through your lashes, the quirked corner of your mouth appearing alongside your raised brows.

"I'm pretty sure I warned you about you being incapable of keeping quiet."

"I was quiet!" He argues, pursing his lips afterwords. "I think."

You giggle at his dubious remark which he muffles with a peck to the edge of your mouth. When he pulls back, his eyes are glimmering, forever alluring regardless of how much time in your relationship you've spent losing yourself in.

"What were you and Nari laughing about earlier?"

"Ah," You grin. "It was just about her and Chan's night."

Your hands relocate to the back of his knees when he shuffles closer in between your thighs and hunches over to bump your forehead with his.

"But what did she say? What was so funny?" He pouts.

"You're so nosey."

He makes a sound in the back of his throat as he nudges his nose against yours, pushing you to indulge in his curiosity a little more.

"Chan wanted her to call him daddy."

Mingyu recoils abruptly, distancing himself from you for a moment to gauge your sincerity, snorting when he realizes you're, in fact, not joking.

"You learn something new every day, I guess." He smirks.

You offer him a nod before craning your neck to kiss him, unrushed and sweet. Your fingers have since moved to dance across his broad shoulders, skirting past his ribs and spine as you stare up at him. His own hands have come to rest on either side of you in your seat.

Pulling back slightly, Mingyu levels you with an inquisitive expression that makes you shift in your seat slightly.

“You're staring, Gyu.”

“Did you… Do you like…” he takes a deep breath and restarts. “Are you into the Daddy thing?”

Somehow, you've managed to choke on your saliva, sending you into a fit of coughs and wheezes as you try to get your bearings.

“It was just a question, calm down babe!” He chides, stroking the back of your head once you’ve calmed yourself down and taken a sip of your water.

“Baby,” you take his hand in yours. “I’m not into that. I don’t think I’ll ever be into that, honestly."

"Unless.. I don’t know.. you decide you want to try it out? Then I guess I’d consider it."

Mingyu’s face morphs from concern, to understanding, and finally to amusement as he brings your hand to his mouth, peppering your knuckles with kisses.

He chuckles. "Lucky for you, I'm also not a fan, so that makes it easy."

You smile and take another moment to enjoy his admirable character, his openness. His high value and regard for you and your needs. You've truly hit the jackpot with him and couldn't possibly exist without his supportive partnership in your life.

Your gaze blurs as he straightens out, takes a step back and crosses his ankles as he leans against the table, flattening his palm against the polished wood. He tilts his head.

“Although…” He drawls. “I wouldn’t be opposed to being called something else."

You swallow your response and motion for him to elaborate, chewing at the inside of your cheek.

“How do you feel about calling me… your husband?”

You swear the blood in your body stops pumping, the air escaping your lungs not long after, and your ears ring at an intolerable decibel. You’re transfixed on your boyfriend whose eyes have glossed over, unblinking throughout the period of suffocating silence.

“My… what?” You utter breathlessly.

Mingyu shuffles closer to look you in the eye properly, his own twinkling brightly; an otherworldly sight even the constellations in the night sky couldn't hold a candle to.

"Your husband," He proceeds to reiterate. "You know, once we're married."

Your blinks slow after that, stunned.

"I mean, yeah, I don't… I wouldn't… mind, I suppose." You stammer, fighting the urge to both shriek until your throat is raw, and burrow yourself underground to avoid making a fool of yourself before he's even had the chance to propose.

"Good." Is all he says before pivoting on his heel and meandering down the hall, as if he hadn't just flipped your universe upside down, shaking your surroundings until all of your thoughts, feelings, and strength are clattering to the ground, exposed for him to see. Only for him. It's always been for him.

On the outside, Mingyu is no different behind his seemingly unaffected aura.

However, his inner dialogue is a sequence of muddled pleads for a sliver of grace against the eternal adoration he has for you, a love that strikes fires in his ribcage he struggles to put out.

Though, truthfully, he'd let them burn. He'd let his heart char to a degree that reveals nothing but ashes that mirror your smell; Of your distinct undertones of home, refreshing laughter, and a blinding smile.

He's a mess, inside and out, but he doesn't mind it one bit. Not when he cherishes the silver lining; you were okay with being his wife. You were more than okay with it, really.

Should he be a little surprised? Maybe. It's been four years coming and all he's done is confess his undying love for you day in and day out. And as you've mentioned before, it does get a little tiresome after the umpteenth time in one sitting of having to reassure him that you'd still love him if he was a worm.

But who cares? Not him.

Not when he reflects on your journey together; a voyage he has yet to hear you rant about in all of the romance novels you spew to him about. Because your love is special. It's one of a kind. A story not even the most wise and literate author could produce into words on a paper.

And when he thinks about the velvet box sitting at the bottom of his luggage, buried under his clothes, he knows it's only a matter of days until he can confidently claim this love as both yours and his—for the rest of your shared forever.

< envy yaps: well that was sappy. I feel like I have to balance it out now with an evil plot line now... and what if Wonwoo is my next target... hm... much to consider.

Thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works here!

“hm..” he thought, his hand lazily tilting the phone down as he looked away. “you look so comfy though, I don’t want you to get cold again.” he looked back, smiling at you and adjusting the phone.

“it’s okay, if it means your throat will get better.” you slightly pout, sniffling again as your legs rubbed together in a happy feel to be under the blankets.

“okay then, I’m not wearing any sweater anyway. I probably need it.” he said, the lighting he was under changing as he took the steps down to the subway. you couldn’t see him for a second, but his figure regained color as he neared the lights.

“you’re so careless, you could be at least a little more warm but you decided not to be.” you scolded, lifting the blankets off you and exposing yourself to the cold air of your apartment. shivering, you stepped into the slippers your friend had gifted you to avoid the cold floor at any cost.

“I’m sorry, but it makes it better doesn’t it? I’m cold now so when I get to you I’ll be all warm in your bed.” he sighed, already daydreaming about being under the blankets with you, limbs tightly wrapped around each other.

“I guess, but still.”

he looked at the phone, raising it higher to show you his surroundings leaving him slightly in the corner. he stopped walking, pointing to the wet floor sign behind him from a distance, making you giggle.

his face was serious, focused on getting the right angle before he began walking again. “the floor isn’t wet, this is propaganda.” he joked, shaking his head as he watched you leave your dark room and head out to your small but convenient kitchen you had very neatly organized and decorated with your own preferences.

he liked your kitchen, he loved the dark wood and pink accents you made sure to put together. in fact it was so you, that he felt comfier in your home even if you weren’t in it yourself. “you’re so silly. are you waiting for the,” you paused to place the phone to lean on your paper towel roll in the middle of the counter so he could see you. “thing, now.”

“yeah, I’ll sit on the benches now that there’s no one here.” his nose turning a shade of pink due to the cold. he neared a bench and sat on it.

you left your phone where you placed it and opened a drawer with your tea, coffee, and hot chocolate bags, taking the one you needed. taehyung didn’t quite like tea or coffee and it was something small but so big you could never forget.

when you went to certain gatherings together with old classmates or your own friends, he’d rather take a beer or just a simple hot chocolate.

it warmed your heart for some odd reason whenever you were over at anyone’s place and someone asked you what he would like to eat. not just then, but also when he always likes what you picked, like you know him like the back of your hand.

and you do.

and so does he.

when he goes to certain stores, he’ll see a simple and cute object whether it be a shirt, decoration, or even a piece of jewelry and it’ll remind him of you.

he knows you like soft accents and cute charms, or anything that has deers or bunnies on them. most of the stuff you own are from him, like your cute bunny shaped salt and sugar holders.

“you still have those?” you heard through your ear buds, the cute pink ones you bought for yourself. you turned around, looking back at the phone to see his eyes taking up most of the screen.

“have what?” you asked, scanning your whole kitchen, or at least where he would most likely be looking at.

“the little, uh, miniature ramen bowls with chopsticks?” he pointed out, making you look at the small souvenirs.

“of course I do, that’s what you gave me on our first date how could I not?” and you remember it very well.

he had taken you to a museum knowing you love art and admiring all sorts of creations. before taking you home, he gifted you a set of miniature pieces he brought back from Korea. at that point you had known each other for a few months, meeting through mutual friends.

“I never noticed them there.”

“that’s because I moved them when I was cleaning a couple days ago, I think they look better there.”

he chuckled, licking his lips as he rested his head on the bench, sitting sideways with one leg propped. he opened his mouth to say something, but left it open in an ‘o’ shape shape as he got distracted by the roaring sound of the subway getting closer. his eyes were adorably wide and his eyebrows raised as if he’d seen the most incredible thing.

“oh, the subway’s here!” he excitedly told you. standing up, shuffling noises made their way to your ears as he walked into the subway.

his heart thumped more than before, just like when you picked up his call. he felt himself grow closer to you every day but knowing he was heading to your house and would see you in just a couple minutes made him heat up, the cold already absent.

you smile, looking back at him after putting the water to boil. he was just so sweet. and you had a sweet tooth.

he smiled with all his teeth to the camera, pulling you closer to take the phone from where you placed it.

even after two years of being in a relationship, it felt so new as if you were a teenage girl finally getting the opportunity to date her crush. taehyung felt the same, butterflies forming in his stomach every time your eyes met. worse, he heated up being close to you in any way possible, even with just a simple hold of hands.

“are you still cold?” you ask, noticing his nose isn’t pinkish anymore.

“no, but I will once I get off.” he sighed, forcing his lips into a straight line and his cheeks into squishy bunches.

“hm, it’s okay.” you replied, placing the phone in front of you against the wall under the cabinets. with the help of a thick towel, you poured the boiling water into a cup with a puppy on it, the chocolate powder already inside.

“that looks so good.” he groaned, eyes lazy as he yearned for the cup of hot liquid.

“good thing you’ll be here in no time, right?”

he nodded, grinning. “I might just get hard thinking about it.”

“tae!” you almost flinched, eyes squinting at him. “you can’t be alone in there.”

“I’m not, but who cares.” he shrugged, changing the camera to show an older group of ladies in front of him that looked around their fifties.

they all stared at the camera in shock and slight tease not knowing you were who he was talking to. he switched the camera back, bringing a hand up to take his cap off just to put it back on after ruffling his hair.

“you’re insane.” you scoff, shaking your head. “poor ladies, they’re just trying to get somewhere and you’re over here talking about your dick.”

“you like it though, right my lady?”

“mhm, I like it a lot.” you flirted back, blushing at what he called you. he smiled, shy at his words.

“I’m getting off now.” he stood up, walking to the doors that were bound to open. stretching, he yawned, making you smile.

“you tired?”

“a little. I doubt I will be when I get there.” he mentioned, reminding you that living close to the subway has its perks.

“we’ll get in bed as soon as you get here.” you mutter, sitting down on the comfortable stools. he sniffled, the phone at a low angle again as he made his way to your apartment.

“sounds perfect,” he groans. “fuck, this shouldn’t take so long.” and you knew where this was going.

“taehyung, I know what you mean by that.” you smiled, resting your cheek on your palm.

“let’s move in together? we both live alone in our apartments anyway.” he suggests.

“yeah, but that takes time. I don’t want to move though, you move.” you groan.

“yes, I’ll move. you took too much time decorating your apartment.” he smiled, knowing you took time to inspect and change every inch of your home.

“yup, that’s why I love you.”

the lighting on his side got darker, signaling his arrival at you apartment complex. the beeps of the elevator ring in your ears, your stomach flipping in silence, excited for his arrival.

you can’t contain the smile that comes naturally to your face. “I love you more, that’s why I’m willing to drag my ass to you at ten pm.”

“well..” you sit up, shrugging in slow motion. “I still, love you more.”

and you knew this was a start of a playful fight that’d never end even after years.

“but..” he mimicked you, shoulders shrugging the same speed. “I highkey love you, more.”

to another person, it’d seem like a cringe couple in love, and they wouldn’t be wrong.

“oh, I’m here.” taehyung announces, stepping out of the elevator and heading right to your door down the hallway. “open your lovely door.”

he decided not to knock, waiting patiently as you made your way to him without cutting the call.

instead, he did. hearing the sounds of your door unlocking and the door knob twisting, his cheeks heated up, tummy turning, and his hands sweaty. on the other side, your hands were slightly shaking, the thought of him being a door away rising goosebumps all over.

the door opened, revealing you in your pajamas and a thin shirt. he recognized your socks, blushing harder and shyly smiling as if you were new to dating, but you weren’t.

you slightly jumped to hug him, his hands wrapping themselves around you. “oh god, you’re so cold.” you shiver, his clothes carrying the freezing weather of the outside world.

“let me in then.” he giggled, kissing the top of your head before you slid off him.

he had the habit of leaving his shoes on your shoe rack and noticing how nicely they looked beside yours. “hey, I’ve been wondering where these were,” he laughed, noticing the flippers he left last a few days ago the last time he was there.

“I never noticed you left them,” you grin, looking at him cutely stand back up from his crouching position in amusement.

that was usual for him, leaving little pieces of himself in your apartment. your bathroom had two toothbrushes now, your closet had a few of his shirts you either wore to be comfortable or he wore when he came over. your cupboards had cups he’d bought with you in his mind, and your nightstand was home to his rings he’d forgotten.

you’ve found some of his hair strands that he’d leave involuntarily, adding to the collection of items that screamed you were his.

he picked up the cup with both his hands, warming them up. “hm, it’s so fucking nice.” he moaned at the temperature of the hot chocolate you prepared for him.

“yeah? I told you.”

“you make it the best.” he placed the cup down, dragging you towards him and snuggling into your shoulder as he sat down on the stool.

“finish it so we can go to bed.” you whispered, the quiet too precious to disrupt.

“can I take it with me? I wanna go now.” he asked against you, his lips tracing your skin with their movement.

“okay, fine. hurry.” you chase away, going back into the kitchen to get your phone before following him into your room.

he waited for you to turn on the lamp light before nearing the bed to place the cup on your nightstand. “don’t drop it, baby.”

“I won’t, see? it’s placed.” he chuckled, reaching for the hem of his shirt to take it off. the idea of hugging you naked always gets him excited, especially under your warm sheets.

you’re already snuggled back in the blanket, pushing your head against the pillow while staring at him as he slides his shirt off himself easily. his skin was soft and perfect under the glow of the small light that failed to light up the whole room.

he decided to come to yours last minute, easily telling from his pajama pants that coincidentally matched yours. you smiled, watching him lift the heavy comforter and slipping inside after putting his phone right next to yours on the nightstand.

his cap was still on, but he soon realized it disturbed him enough to want to take it off and throw it to the ground. “the ladies probably miss you.” you bring up, cheek pressed to his and lips barely touching.

“who? the ones from the subway?” he asks, moving you as he speaks.

“yeah, you’re young and handsome. my aunt could crush on you.”

he giggled, bringing you closer by the hips. “but they know I’m yours, especially when I called you my lady.” he said, squeezing the flesh of your waist.

softly groaning, you brought your hand to his chest, tracing your nails on his skin. “that’s so hot.”

“I know, that’s why I call you that, my lady.” he teases, his hand slipping further down to your ass, squeezing it. you let out a low whine, hand moving to the back of his neck to push him to kiss you.

his tongue pushed past your lips, outlining your teeth and swirling your own like a habit. he always did this, like a signature move that never failed to turn you on.

there were days where he stayed more than one night, having to shower in your bathroom and coming out smelling like your shampoo. it was a detail you loved, he smelled like you.

he tasted chocolatey, mixing his saliva with your minty one. he pulled back, breathless. “I feel super warm now, and I like it.”

bringing your hand to his crotch, you felt him harden against your palm. “god, at least you waited till you were with me to pop a boner.”

“fuck, your hand feels nice.” he groaned, thrusting against your hand for some sort of friction, slightly squeezing his thighs together, making yours do the same.

you took your hand away, making him whine before straddling his lap and pressing your chest against his naked one. “will this feel better?” you whisper against his lips, pushing yourself down against him.

“yeah, it does.” he whispers back, hand moving to your ass to push you against him as he thrusts upwards.

you were wetting your clothing, also feeling a wet spot on his pants.

“fuck,” he let out, breathily.

his hands traced your lines, ending up on the back of your thighs and letting you move on him. you sat up to pull your shirt over your head, moving back down to place your naked chest against his, skin to skin.

he lightly gasped, searching for your lips.

you moans, eyebrows furrowing as if worried but your eyes shut. you placed your legs by his sides, your feet resting on his thighs.

he knew where your stash of condoms was like the back of his hand, considering he reached in there more than he saw his friends every week.

his hand clumsily made its way to the drawer designed to be inside your bed, pulling it out a bit to reach for the open and ripped up box, taking out a square of foil.

breaking the kiss, he brought the foil to his mouth and opened it with his teeth. his fingers tapped the behind of your knees, signaling you to lift yourself up so he could free himself.

the strings of his pants were already loose, his hand easily slipping in to pull his hard cock out.

“can I?” you ask, taking the foil packet after he nods desperately, taking him in your hand. he was warm. the head was a shy shade of red, wet and leaking from its hole.

you’ve seen him thousands of time in the span of two years, yet every time he bares himself to you it’s like the first. but each time, you feel more connected, like your souls working to blend into one.

you pinch the top, rolling the rest of the rubber down to his shaft. “you’re super warm now.”

“I know, that’s why I love your home.”

smiling, you lay back down on him and tug your pants down, leaving them at your knees. his hands rest on either side of your waist, waiting for you.

reaching in between your bodies, you hold his cock in your hand, guiding it to your heat. before pushing it in, you tease yourself, wetting its tip with your arousal.

the mushroom tip penetrated your entrance, making its way in slowly with the help of your hand.

your nipples harden against his chest, feeling the change himself. he reaches for the blanket that bunched up below your ass, bringing it up to cover the both of you and slipping his arms back in to get warm once again.

“I can’t let us get cold again.” he says, sighing at the feel of your warm walls wrapped around him.

“thank you, we might get sick.” you smile against his chest, voice soft. staying still for long was more pleasant than he thought it’d be.

“this feels nice, i feel like I’m in a cozy cabin or something.” he giggled, giddy to be with you like this at such hour.

“hm, am I the cozy cabin?” you tease, clenching around him, earning a soft moan from him.

“maybe. we need to do this more often.” his hands roam your body in gentle touches, caressing your skin and tickling your sides with the tips of his fingers occasionally.

he kisses your forehead, reaching all the way down to your feet to massage them. your hips start to move, slowly grinding against him and clenching when you remember he’s inside you.

“this feels like a treat after walking for so long.”

“it was your choice.”

“exactly, and it’s the best one.”

“I agree.”

“everytime I come to your place, I feel my best.”

“you’re going to make me cry while your dick’s inside me.”

“it’s okay, I’m already shedding tears.

Yunho still believes in dating you. Not because the relationship needs saving. Not because he thinks grand gestures are the secret to lasting love. He simply refuses to let the person he loves become someone he only sees between meetings.

Which is how you end up here. The restaurant glows with warm amber light reflected across crystal glasses and polished cutlery. Conversations dissolve beneath soft piano music, waiters glide silently between tables, and every detail, from the pressed linen to the wine list, whispers the kind of quiet luxury people spend weeks trying to reserve.

Yunho booked it the moment he found an evening that belonged to neither work nor obligation. Not because it's exclusive. Because he missed you.

Across the table, you shift for what must be the third time since sitting down. His eyes flick briefly beneath the table before returning to your face.

"The shoes?"

You sigh dramatically. "They're trying to kill me."

"They look beautiful."

"They're weapons."

"They're beautiful weapons."

You can't help smiling.

"You say that because you're not the one wearing them."

"No." His gaze lingers for just a heartbeat longer than necessary, warm enough to make your cheeks threaten a blush. "I'm the one who gets to look at them."

You shake your head, hiding your smile behind your wine glass.

The conversation slips easily into familiar territory after that. His latest project. Your week. A trip the two of you keep promising to plan and never quite finding the time for.

Somewhere in the middle, you mention a singer that's apparently impossible to escape these days.

Yunho frowns thoughtfully.

"I've never heard of them."

You look at him over the rim of your glass.

"You're making your age very obvious tonight."

"I've spent forty years carefully building that privilege."

"You could at least pretend to know."

"I could." A beat. "I'd rather have you explain it."

You laugh quietly, shaking your head.

"You're impossible."

"So I've been told."

There's something wonderfully unfair about the way he says it. Completely unbothered. Never defensive. Never trying to convince you he's younger than he is. He wears the years between you with the same quiet confidence he wears one of his tailored suits, as though neither has ever occurred to him as something needing justification.

You tease him because it's easy. He lets you because he likes the sound of your laugh.

By the time your starters appear, you've somehow moved from music to books to the strange corners of the internet that never seem to find their way onto Yunho's phone.

He only understands about half of what you're talking about. You know because he tells you. And yet he never stops listening. His attention never wanders. 

Every now and then, you catch him looking at you over the candle between you. Not saying anything. Just watching with that quiet, unwavering fondness that has always belonged to the two of you. 

It never feels like being observed. It feels like coming home.

The interruption slips so easily into the evening that, at first, you don't think anything of it.

"Yunho?"

He looks up.

For the first time all night, surprise brightens his face before settling into a smile you haven't seen since you walked into the restaurant.

"...Wow." He stands almost instinctively. "It's been years."

She laughs as she steps closer, arms already opening. Yunho returns the hug without hesitation, one hand resting briefly against the middle of her back before they separate again. Easy. Familiar. The kind of greeting that belongs to people who've crossed paths enough times for formality to disappear.

"You look exactly the same."

"So do you."

"No chance."

"I've become a much better liar."

He laughs, and something inside you softens.

Of course he knows people. He's spent twenty years building a career that seems to exist somewhere between boardrooms, charity galas and airports. It would be stranger if old acquaintances didn't recognize him.

She fits naturally into that world. Elegant dress. Confident smile. Around his age. The sort of woman who never looks intimidated by expensive restaurants because she's been having dinners like these for years.

They fall into conversation without effort. Fundraisers. Old colleagues. Someone retiring. Someone getting married. Names you've never heard and places you've never been.

You let yourself fade into the background for a while, content to listen. You know Yunho likes introducing people properly rather than interrupting conversations halfway through. He'll get there.

"I haven't seen you at anything lately," she says eventually.

"I've been hiding."

"Still?"

He smiles.

"Work."

She shakes her head, pretending to be disappointed.

"What a shame."

There's something in the way she says it that makes you glance up. Not inappropriate. Just interested. Interested enough that, without realizing it, you find yourself waiting.

Surely now. Surely this is where Yunho smiles, reaches across the table, brushes his fingers against yours and says the simplest sentence in the world.

I'm here with my girlfriend.

He doesn't. Instead, he answers whatever she'd asked next, completely unaware that you've stopped following the conversation.

You tell yourself not to be ridiculous. He's just being polite. Another minute passes. She laughs again.

"So you finally found a reason to leave the office?"

"I try."

"I was beginning to think you'd married your work."

"I've considered divorcing it."

She laughs harder than the joke deserves. You smile politely. Still waiting. Still giving him the chance. Then, almost as an afterthought, she turns to you.

"And you?"

You blink. "Sorry?"

"What do you do?"

You answer, and she listens with genuine interest. She asks about your work, compliments it, tells you it's impressive.

For one brief moment, the knot inside your chest loosens. Then she looks back at Yunho.

"You've always had good taste." He raises an eyebrow. "In people," she clarifies with a smile. "You always surround yourself with interesting company."

Yunho nods once.

"I've been lucky."

Lucky. That's all. No glance toward you. No quiet smile that says she's mine. No effortless correction. Nothing.

The conversation moves on, but something inside you doesn't. Because the awful part isn't that she's flirting. The awful part is that she has absolutely no reason not to. She's speaking to a man she believes is single. And the only person who could have told her otherwise keeps choosing not to.

When she finally excuses herself, her fingers brush lightly over his sleeve.

"You should come to the gala next month."

"We'll see."

"I'd love to catch up properly."

Her smile lingers for a heartbeat longer before she disappears into the restaurant. Yunho watches her leave with the absent familiarity of someone remembering an old colleague. Then he sits back down, reaches for his wine and smiles to himself.

"She's exactly the same as she was ten years ago."

"Mhm."

You smile because smiling costs less than speaking. Because saying what you're actually thinking would ruin the evening. 

"As I was saying..." He settles back into his chair, picking up the conversation exactly where he'd left it. "The board wants to move the launch to September, which makes absolutely no sense because we'd have to renegotiate every supplier."

His voice fades into the background. You hear it. You just aren't listening anymore. Not really. You're still sitting at the same table as him, but your mind is trapped five minutes in the past, replaying every smile, every laugh, every opportunity he had to choose you out loud. All you can think is how easy it would've been. One sentence. One look. One absentminded reach for your hand.

Anything that said she's with me. Instead, for ten long minutes, you felt like the centerpiece on the table. Beautiful. Expensive. And entirely decorative. Less like the woman sharing dinner with him and more like someone who happened to be sitting at his table.

"That's nice."

Yunho pauses. He mistakes the tightness in your voice for exhaustion. Or maybe he notices it and decides to give you space. Either way, he lets it pass.

"I wouldn't call it nice."

You blink, as though you've only just remembered he's speaking. "What?"

"I asked what you thought."

You shrug lightly. "I think you should do whatever makes you happy."

His brows knit together.

"Dove."

"Hm?"

"I stopped talking about work a while ago."

"Oh." You take another sip of wine, buying yourself a second. "I must've missed it."

His eyes stay on you. Long enough that you almost think he's going to ask what's wrong. Long enough that a tiny, hopeful part of you waits for him to.

Instead, a waiter stops beside the table. Perfect. This is the moment you decide you’re done being mature. Which is unfortunate. Because you’re usually very good at it.

You look up with a smile so bright it surprises even you.

"Sorry," you say, almost apologetically. "Can I ask you something?"

He's young. Pretty in the effortless way university students always seem to be.

You ask about the desserts. Then whether the cocktails are actually worth ordering. Then which dish he likes best. 

He answers easily. You laugh at one of his jokes. It isn't even that funny.

Yunho watches the exchange in silence. Not because there's anything inappropriate about it. Because there isn't. Which somehow makes the knot in your chest tighten even more. You're doing exactly what he did. Being polite. Being friendly. Nothing more. 

When the waiter finally excuses himself, Yunho doesn't say anything straight away. He waits until the young man disappears around the corner. Only then does he look at you.

"What was that?"

You tilt your head. "What was what?"

"You've asked him more questions in two minutes than you've asked me all night."

"I was being polite."

"You were interviewing him."

"He seemed nice."

"I'm sure he did."

You smile into your glass. "I liked his smile."

Silence. You don't need to look up to feel his eyes on you. When you finally do, his expression has changed almost imperceptibly. Not jealousy. Confusion.

"You liked his smile."

"It was a nice smile."

He studies you for a long moment. Like he's waiting for the punchline. Like he's convinced this version of you can't possibly be real. Eventually he shakes his head, choosing not to take the bait.

"So..." he tries again, "I was thinking maybe we could..."

You pick up your phone. His voice stops. You unlock it. Scroll. You couldn't say what you're looking at if someone asked. The screen is just somewhere else to put your eyes.

"Dove."

"Hm?"

"Put the phone away."

"Why?"

His patience holds. Barely.

"Because I'm talking to you."

You don't look up. "So?"

The word hangs there. Small. Careless. Sharp enough to cut.

"So..." He exhales slowly, choosing every word with visible effort. "I'd appreciate it if you listened."

You laugh quietly. "I listened to her."

Silence. Real silence. The kind that empties the space around it.

"...What?"

You finally meet his eyes. "I listened very politely."

Something flickers across his face. Not understanding. Recognition.

"You've been upset ever since she left."

"I'm not upset."

"No?"

"No."

"You've barely looked at me."

"I've looked at you loads."

You punctuate the sentence by stealing a bite from his plate. Not because you're hungry. Because it's his. Because you know he'll stop you. 

His fingers close gently around your wrist before your fork reaches the food. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make you stop. He looks down at your hand. Then back at you.

"...Really?"

You smile with infuriating sweetness. "I wanted to know if yours tasted better."

"You ordered the exact same thing."

"It does."

"Dove..."

"It tastes different."

"It's the same recipe."

"It isn't."

"It objectively is."

"It isn't to me."

He lets go of your wrist with a slow breath, rubbing a hand across his mouth as though he's physically trying to hold onto the last thread of his patience.

"You are being impossible."

"I'm eating dinner."

"No." His eyes don't leave yours. "You're trying to punish me."

The words catch you off guard. For just a second. Long enough for him to notice.

"I haven't argued with you once," you say quietly.

"You don't have to." His voice drops lower. "You've spent the last fifteen minutes trying to make me feel something."

You force another smile.

"What exactly am I trying to make you feel?"

"I don't know." There's frustration there now. Real frustration. "That's the problem."

He leans back, studying you with the same expression he wears when something at work refuses to make sense. Like he's looking at all the pieces and none of them fit.

"I know you." His voice softens despite himself. "This..." His eyes search yours. "...isn't you."

Something twists painfully inside your chest. You could tell him. You could end this right now. You could say, You made me feel invisible. Instead, you swallow it. Smile. Tilt your head.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

And for the first time all evening, Yunho stops trying to continue the conversation. Because whatever happened to the woman he walked into this restaurant with, he has no idea how to reach her anymore.

You know you're being unfair. You know this isn't you. But the version of yourself that spent the last ten minutes feeling invisible is louder than the one who usually knows better.

You just want him to look at you. 

You casually drop your napkin and bend down to retrieve it, taking just a second longer than necessary to adjust the strap of your heel. When you straighten again, Yunho is already looking at you.

"Something wrong?" you ask, all innocent eyes.

"Nothing," he replies, a little too quickly.

"Hm."

You smooth your napkin back across your lap as though you've finally decided to behave. Yunho almost believes it. Then you reach for the dessert menu.

"I think I'm getting dessert."

"We haven't finished dinner."

"I like planning ahead." Your finger drifts lazily down the list before you smile to yourself. "This one sounds nice."

Yunho doesn't even look.

"What one?"

"The vanilla mille-feuille." You tilt the menu toward yourself. "I've heard the chef is very generous with the cream." 

His fork stops halfway to his mouth.

"Dove."

"What?" You glance up. "I like cream."

His jaw flexes. "You know exactly what you're doing."

"I do?" Your eyebrows lift with practiced innocence. "I'm ordering dessert."

"You haven't ordered anything."

"I'm thinking about it."

His jaw tightens.

"Think about something else."

You hum as though you're genuinely considering the suggestion.

For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. Around you, cutlery clinks against porcelain, conversations drift lazily through the restaurant, and somewhere a bottle of wine is uncorked.

Only your table feels painfully quiet. You smile into the menu.

"I just want something sweet."

His eyes finally meet yours. "You are testing my patience."

"No." You lower the menu carefully. "I'm participating in the conversation."

"Dove."

"You said I wasn't talking enough."

"I also said to behave."

"I am."

"You've never looked less convincing."

The corner of your mouth twitches.

"Really?" you say with a shrug, crossing your legs slowly under the table, letting your foot brush against his calf. "I'm just enjoying dinner."

His breath hitches at the contact, and he pulls his leg away slightly. "Don't."

"Don't what?" you ask, voice dropping to a whisper as you lean closer. "Don't touch you? Don't talk about dessert? Don't breathe?"

"You're playing games," he accuses, but his voice has lost some of its edge.

"I'm just being myself," you reply with a small smile, tracing patterns on the tablecloth with your finger. "Unless you'd prefer I be more like her?"

Yunho's jaw tightens at the mention of the other woman. "That's not what I said."

"Then what did you mean?" you challenge, your foot finding his leg again and staying there this time.

For the first time that evening, something flashes across Yunho's face. Not anger. Not yet. Impatience. The kind that only exists because he cares enough to keep trying. And somehow, that only makes some childish, wounded part of you decide that's still not enough. 

You let your other foot join the first, the expensive Louboutins he bought you last month now hidden under the tablecloth. The ones he always says make your legs look endless. The ones he loves seeing you in when he's buried inside you.

"Dove," he warns, his voice tight.

"Yunho," you mimic, your voice syrupy sweet as you apply more pressure with your foot. "Problem?"

Your pointed toe traces the seam of his trousers until you reach his balls. You press gently, just enough to make him shift in his seat. His knuckles turn white on his fork, but he doesn't look away from you. 

Yunho keeps acting as if everything is normal. But his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. He has a thing for your heels, always has. The way they look on you, the sound they make on marble floors, the marks they sometimes leave on his thighs when you're riding him.

"Behave," he grunts under his breath.

You blink innocently. "I am behaving."

His eyes darken. "No, you're not."

You smirk slightly. "Don't you like it?"

Yunho doesn't push. Not yet. Because you’re in public. Because he trusts you. Because he likes it when you want him. Because maybe you're just having fun. And god help him, because his dick is already responding to your touches.

"Remember when you fucked me in these?" you whisper, leaning forward. "How you said they should've been illegal?"

Yunho remembers. He also remembers paying for them. Looking back, he should've left them in the shop. 

He grows increasingly tense. Because this isn't you. Because something is wrong. Because you’re choosing a spectacularly inconvenient time to express it. And because despite his concern, he's getting painfully hard.

Then you cross the line. Not maliciously. Desperately, your foot travels higher, the pointed toe now rubbing against his length. You can feel him twitch and grow under your touch. His jaw clenches, but he doesn't look away from you. He's trying to win this silent battle, trying to pretend you're not affecting him.

"Stop," he mouths, his eyes dark with fury and arousal.

You just smile, rubbing your foot against him in slow, torturous circles. "Make me."

His hand shoots out under the table, fingers wrapping around your ankle in a grip that's both punishing and possessive. 

"Enough," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You need to stop."

His voice is low enough that nobody else hears it. You do.

The hand around your ankle loosens almost immediately, his fingers sliding away as though he's only just realized how tightly he'd been holding you. The warmth of his palm lingers against your skin for a second longer than the touch itself.

Neither of you moves. Neither of you says anything. The restaurant keeps existing around you. Glasses clink. Someone laughs two tables over. A waiter walks past carrying a bottle of wine as if the world hasn't just tilted on its axis.

Yunho looks at you. His breathing is uneven. His jaw is locked so tightly you can see the muscle jump beneath his skin. There is still frustration written all over his face, but underneath it, buried somewhere deeper, is something that twists painfully in your chest.

Worry. Not embarrassment. Not annoyance. Worry.

He pushes his chair back.

"Come with me."

You don't answer. He leans down instead, close enough that only you can hear him.

"Now."

The word isn't loud. It doesn't need to be. Yunho has never raised his voice at you. He doesn't have to. 

You stand without another argument. His hand finds your wrist first, then slips lower until it settles against the small of your back, guiding you through the restaurant with a firmness you've never felt from him before. Every step keeps you tucked against his side.

The walk feels endless. Your heels catch against the polished floor more than once, forcing you to stumble to keep up with his pace. Usually he'd notice. Usually he'd slow down immediately, his hand tightening instinctively around yours before asking if your feet hurt.

Tonight he doesn't. Not because he doesn't care. Because his mind is somewhere else entirely.

"What were you thinking?"

His voice is quiet. Controlled. Which somehow makes it worse.

You swallow. "I don't know."

A humorless laugh escapes him through his nose.

"Clearly."

The word lands harder than if he'd shouted. You flinch.

The bathroom door clicks shut behind you, sealing away the music, the conversations, the comfortable illusion that tonight had started as a date.

Silence settles immediately.

Yunho turns to face you. His tie sits slightly crooked. His hair is messier than it was twenty minutes ago. The picture of composure is still there, but only if someone doesn't know where to look.

You do. His jaw is set so tightly it almost hurts to see.  For a long moment, he simply looks. Like he's trying to recognize you again.

"Explain."

"I..."

Nothing.

He waits. Not impatiently. Expectantly. When you still don't answer, he exhales through his nose, rubing a tired hand across his face. 

"Talk to me."

You stare at the floor. 

"I didn't like her."

"I gathered that."

"You were flirting with her."

His expression doesn't change. "No."

"You were."

"I wasn't."

"You laughed at everything she said."

"I was being polite."

"You hugged her."

"She hugged me."

"You let her touch you."

"And?"

The question lands harder than if he'd argued. You stare at him.

"You never stopped her."

For the first time, Yunho goes quiet. Not because he doesn't have an answer. Because he's finally hearing the one thing you've been trying so desperately not to say. He studies your face for a long moment before speaking again.

"...There it is."

Your throat tightens.

"What?"

"That's what this has been about."

You look away before he can see your eyes burn. He notices anyway. He takes one slow step closer.

"Dove." You keep staring at the floor. Another step. "Look at me."

You hate how difficult that suddenly is. When your eyes finally lift to his, your voice comes out so much smaller than you intended.

"You never told her."

A small crease appears between his brows.

"Told her what?"

"That I was your girlfriend."

Silence. Real silence. Yunho blinks once. Not because he's caught. Because the thought genuinely never crossed his mind. You let out a brittle laugh.

"...See?"

"Dove."

"No."

You shake your head before he can interrupt.

"She looked at me like I was... I don't know... your assistant. Someone you brought because you didn't want to eat alone."

His face changes. Just enough.

"I don't care what she thought."

"I do."

The words break apart on the way out.

"I do because you never gave her a reason to think anything else."

Yunho's shoulders still. His eyes search yours. Not defensive. Thinking. Working backwards through the evening. Then, very quietly...

"Is that what you believed?"

You don't answer. Because answering would make it real. He watches you for another second. Then your whisper finally comes.

"Sometimes..." Your voice almost disappears. "Sometimes it feels like you keep me separate."

He doesn't answer. Which somehow hurts even more. Instead, he closes his eyes. Only for a heartbeat. When they open again, something inside them has shifted.

You fill the silence yourself. "Maybe you're embarrassed."

His head lifts. "No."

"Maybe you don't want people wondering why you're dating someone younger."

"Dove."

"Maybe you think they'll look at you and..."

"Stop."

The word lands like stone. Certain. He closes the distance between you in two measured steps, stopping just close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. One hand wraps gently around your forearm. Grounding. Not restraining. His thumb strokes your skin once. 

"Don't do that."

Your eyes finally spill over. "Do what?"

His own jaw tightens. 

"Don't tell me what I think." A beat passes between you. "Don't tell me what I feel." His voice is still calm. Still measured. But it cracks ever so slightly around the edges. "Especially when you're so wrong."

You don't argue. You don't defend yourself. Because for the first time that evening, you hear your own words the way he heard them. And they're ugly. You weren't accusing him. You were telling him you'd believed, even for a little while, that the man who loves you was ashamed to stand beside you.

The fight drains out of you all at once, leaving nothing behind except embarrassment and the quiet realization of how badly you've needed him to understand. 

Yunho sees it happen. He watches your shoulders fold inward. Watches your eyes drop. Watches the bravado disappear as quickly as it arrived. And in that instant, the irritation he's been carrying since the restaurant slips away almost completely.

Because you were never trying to make him miserable. You were trying, desperately and terribly, to ask one question you didn't know how to put into words.

His hand loosens around your arm. His shoulders drop with a tired exhale. When he speaks again, the steel is still there. But now it's wrapped around something infinitely softer.

"...Do you really think so little of me?"

The question steals the air from your lungs. Not because he's angry. Because he's hurt. Because beneath every stern word since you walked into this bathroom had been something else entirely.

Fear. Fear that something had happened to you. Fear that he'd somehow missed it. Fear that the woman he loves had spent an entire dinner convincing herself she wasn't enough.

You drop your eyes. 

"I'm sorry."

"No." His voice is gentle now. "I am sorry."

You look back up confused. He reaches out then, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips linger for just a second against your cheek, almost hesitant after everything that was said.

"I don't talk about my private life at work."

You frown. "I know."

"No." His thumb strokes your cheek once. "I mean..." He searches for the right words, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don't talk about it. Ever."

The confession sounds strangely vulnerable coming from him. Yunho always knows what to say. Except now.

"I don't talk about my parents. I don't talk about my brother. I don't talk about holidays." A faint smile pulls at one corner of his mouth, humorless this time. "Half the people I work with barely know anything about me."

You listen quietly. Because it's true. You've heard him dodge personal questions before. Seen him redirect conversations so smoothly people never realized he'd done it. You'd just never put yourself in that category.

His hand slips from your cheek to the side of your neck, warm against your skin.

"I've spent years building that habit." His thumb moves absentmindedly beneath your ear. "So naturally..." He lets out another slow breath. "I did the same thing tonight."

Your chest tightens. He isn't defending himself, he's retracing his own steps, trying to find the moment he got it wrong.

A sad smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.

"I thought I was protecting my peace." His gaze softens. "I didn't realize I was asking you to carry the cost of it."

Something inside you gives way. Not all at once. Quietly. Like ice finally cracking under spring sunlight.

"I should've seen it," he murmurs. "I should've realized what that looked like from where you were standing. I should've introduced you." Your eyes close for half a second. "I should've made it obvious."

The first tear escapes before you can stop it. Yunho catches it with the pad of his thumb almost instinctively. Not because he found the perfect explanation. Because he isn't looking for one. He's simply standing in front of you, taking responsibility for a hurt he never intended to cause.

"I'm sorry, Dove."

You laugh weakly through the tears.

"You never apologize."

"I do."

"No, you don't."

"I do," he repeats softly. "When I'm wrong."

The corner of your mouth lifts despite yourself. Relief flickers across his face so briefly you almost miss it. He studies you for another moment, then sighs, the last of the tension leaving his shoulders.

"You scared me tonight." The confession is barely above a whisper. "I didn't know who I was sitting across from."

Shame crashes over you all over again.

"I'm sorry..."

"I know."

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he leans forward until his forehead rests lightly against yours. The contact is warm. Familiar. The kind that always slows your breathing before you even realize it's happening.

Then he kisses you. Softly. Nothing like the way he kissed you earlier. Nothing demanding. Nothing that steals the air from your lungs. Just a slow press of his lips against yours, gentle enough that it feels less like desire and more like reassurance.

I'm still here.

When he pulls away, he doesn't move far. One hand is still cradling your jaw, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheek as though letting go isn't something he's ready to do yet.

"You really aren't embarrassed?" you ask quietly.

The question slips out before you can stop it. You regret it immediately. Yunho's eyebrows draw together so quickly it almost hurts to watch. 

"Embarrassed?" He searches your face as if he's trying to understand how your mind could've built that conclusion. "Of you?" He lets out a quiet, disbelieving breath.

His other hand comes up to cup your face, leaving you held between both of his palms as though you're something far more fragile than either of you would like to admit.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You want the floor to open beneath your feet.

"I just..."

The words refuse to come. Instead, another question does. Quieter this time.

"You still love me?"

Yunho simply stares. Not because he's offended. Because he genuinely can't believe that's the question you've been carrying around.

"That's your question?"

You look away instantly. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No." His fingers guide your face back toward him before you can hide. "You don't get to run away now."

His thumb brushes beneath your eye again, wiping away another tear before it falls.

"After everything we've just talked about..."

He smiles then. Small. Disbelieving. So full of affection it makes your chest ache.

"I love you." Simple. Certain. No hesitation. "I loved you when we walked into that restaurant." His thumb strokes slowly across your cheek. "I loved you while you spent an hour driving me out of my mind." The corner of his mouth twitches despite himself. "And I'm still standing here loving you now." Your breath catches. "There isn't a room in this world where I'd be embarrassed to stand beside you."

His forehead rests lightly against yours.

"If anything..." He continues with a quiet smile. "I'm usually wondering what I did to deserve being the man who gets to walk in with you."

Your eyes close. Not because you're crying anymore. Because your heart simply doesn't know what to do with that.

"You are not something I hide." A beat. "You are the best part of my life."

The silence stretches comfortably between you. This one doesn't hurt. This one heals. 

Then Yunho leans forward, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead. Another against your temple. One more against your cheek, each one slower than the last, as though he's trying to erase every ugly thought you'd carried into this room. 

You smile despite yourself. It lasts all of two seconds. Because when he leans back, there's something new in his expression. The misunderstanding is gone. The hurt has been named. You've forgiven each other.

Which means there's only one thing left to deal with. The spectacular disaster you created out there. And judging by the look Yunho gives you, you're not getting away with that conversation quite so easily. 

"You caused me a great deal of trouble tonight."

The words aren't harsh. They're quiet. Which somehow makes them impossible to hide from.

You drop your gaze. "I'm sorry."

"I know." His hand finds yours again, turning it over gently until your fingers rest against his palm. "I forgive you."

Hope flickers across your face. Then he continues.

"But forgiveness doesn't erase the problem."

Your breath catches. You look back up at him. His expression is unreadable. Calm. Patient. Completely in control again.

"What... problem?"

Yunho pulls your hand and places it against the obvious tension beneath the expensive fabric of his trousers. Heat rushes into your face as you inhale sharply.

"Oh."

"Oh?" Yunho lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "You knew exactly what you were doing." 

You immediately look away.

"I said I was sorry."

"You did." His fingers tighten around yours, pressing your palm more firmly against the hardness beneath his trousers. "And I accepted your apology."

You swallow. "Then...?"

"Then we address the consequences." His voice drops lower.

He steps closer. Your back finds the wall. Not trapped. Just nowhere else you'd rather be. Yunho reaches up, thumb brushing lightly across your jaw. Patient. Composed. Entirely too in control.

"You started this, Dove." His eyes darken. "Now you're going to finish it."

You bite your lip. "Here?"

"Where else?" His thumb traces your bottom lip. "You wanted to play games in public. Let's see how well you play when the stakes are real."

Your knees feel weak. "Yunho..."

"Unless you'd rather I take care of this myself?" He challenges, his voice low and rough. "But I don't think that's what you want, is it?"

You shake your head slowly, unable to form words.

"No." His hand moves from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. "I didn't think so."

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You wanted my attention? You have it. All of it. Now, are you going to fix what you broke?"

You nod, your heart pounding. "Yes."

"Good." 

The word has barely left his mouth before he's pulling you toward him.

One hand remains firm around the back of your neck, fingers spread wide beneath your hair. The other lands at your waist with enough certainty to steal the breath from your lungs, drawing you flush against him in a single, decisive movement.

"Now, be a good girl and show me how sorry you really are. Come here."

It's the last warning you get.

His mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is deep before you have time to think, your startled gasp swallowed immediately as he claims the space between your lips. There isn't an ounce of hesitation in him now. No careful testing. No gentle reassurance. Every slow, measured restraint he's held onto since dinner seems to disappear into the kiss instead.

Your fingers instinctively clutch at the front of his jacket, wrinkling the expensive fabric beneath your fists as your balance disappears beneath the force of him.

Yunho doesn't let you drift away. His hand tightens at your waist, keeping you exactly where he wants you, his breathing rough against your cheek every time the kiss breaks for the briefest heartbeat before he finds your mouth again. Like he's still angry. Still relieved. Still trying to convince himself you're here and that you're finally letting him in.

By the time he finally pulls back, neither of you is breathing properly. He doesn't give you room to recover. His forehead settles against yours almost immediately, his grip on your waist never loosening, your bodies still pressed together so completely you can feel the rise and fall of every uneven breath.

His eyes stay closed for a long moment.

"So stubborn," he murmurs, the words almost disappearing between your mouths.

His thumb presses once against your side, firm enough to remind you exactly whose arms you're standing in. 

The silence between you changes. The misunderstanding is gone. The tenderness is still there, buried somewhere beneath everything else. But what hangs between you now is heavier. Tighter. The kind of tension that makes the room suddenly feel too small to contain either of you.

Before you can smile, before your arms can find their way around his neck, his hands shift. One slides to the small of your back. The other gently catches your wrist. With one smooth movement, he turns you until your back meets his chest.

His body follows yours immediately, close enough that you feel the warmth of him through the fabric of your dress as he guides you forward. Two careful steps. Then your thighs meet the cool marble of the sink, and he stops behind you.

"Hands on the counter," he commands, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

You comply, your palms flat on the stone, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"You are a dangerous woman," he mutters against your shoulder before he bites down harshly, teeth sinking into skin where your dress won't cover it.

"Yunho," you whimper softly.

"Spread your legs," he commands.

You don’t have time to comply. He kicks your feet apart with his own, widening your stance. 

His gaze drops to your feet, still encased in the shoes he bought you. 

"Still wearing these," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "The ones that were torturing me all night. Every time you crossed your legs, every time you tapped that fucking heel against the table... I wanted to bend you over right there."

His hands are rough as they hike your dress up, bunching the fabric at your waist. The cool air hits your exposed skin.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his gaze predatory in the mirror. "All dressed up, and so beautiful but so, so misbehaving."

"Sorry," you whisper, your voice shaky.

His hand comes down hard on your ass. The sharp smack echoes in the tiled room. You cry out, more from surprise than pain.

"Louder."

"Sorry!" you repeat, stronger this time.

Another smack, this one on the other cheek, leaving a warm sting. "Good girl."

His hand comes down twice more in rapid succession, the sharp smacks echoing in the tiled room. Your flesh stings when he digs his nails into the sensitive skin, scratching hard enough to leave faint pink trails that make you whimper.

Yunho hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Instead of sliding them down, he grips the delicate lace and pulls with brutal force. 

The fabric tears with a sharp sound, your knees trembling at the violence of it. Before you can collapse, he bucks his hips forward, pinning you more firmly against the cold marble of the sink.

"I'll be keeping these," he states. "A reminder for you to behave next time we're out."

He spreads your ass cheeks, exposing you completely. 

"Teasing me all night got you this wet? Such a messy girl for me."

He spits, watching the saliva trickle down your cleft before using two fingers to rub it over your clit and entrance. You push back against his hand, a desperate whine escaping your lips.

"Ah ah," he tuts, withdrawing his hand. He brings his glistening fingers to your mouth, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror. "Open. Taste yourself."

You obey, parting your lips as he slides his fingers into your mouth. You suck greedily, swirling your tongue around them, tasting your own arousal, mixing itself with the wine from dinner. His eyes darken as he watches you.

"Fuck," he groans, pulling his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. "You don't get to dictate the pace. Not tonight. Tonight, I use you."

The sound of his belt buckle clinking open makes your heart race. Then the slow rasp of his zipper being lowered follows, each tooth releasing with agonizing slowness that has you trembling with anticipation.

He frees himself with one hand, the other pressing down firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you bent over. He rubs the head of his cock through your wetness, coating himself in your arousal but not entering.

"Please, Yunho," you beg, trying to push back onto him.

He delivers another sharp slap to your ass.

"I said no."

He lines himself up with your entrance and, without warning, slams into you in one brutal thrust.

You both groan. He's impossibly deep like this, the angle unforgiving. The marble digs into your thighs with the force of his entry.

He gives you no time to adjust, setting a punishing rhythm from the start. Each thrust is hard, fast, designed to stake a claim. The sound of skin slapping skin is obscene, mixing with your helpless whimpers and his low grunts. 

Your high heels tremble dangerously beneath you, the stiletto points scraping uselessly against the tile as your legs struggle to support you under the force of his movements.

He captures one of your wrists, twisting it behind your back and pinning it there. He uses the leverage to push you further down, until your face is inches from the mirror, your breath fogging the glass.

His other hand finds your hair, winding it around his fist. He pulls, just enough to arch your back and force you to look at your reflection in the mirror.

"Watch," he growls, his hips never ceasing their assault. "Watch me fuck you. See how you take it? How desperate you are for my cock?"

Your eyes are glassy with tears of pleasure and pain, your mouth slack.

He looks so powerful behind you, his expression dark with lust, his expensive suit still perfectly tailored and pristine while you’re  a mess beneath him.

"You teased me all night," he pants, his grip on your hair tightening. "Rubbing your little foot on my dick. Making me hard in front of everyone. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be fucked like the little brat you are?"

"Yes!" you cry out. "Yes, I'm sorry!"

"You will be." He releases your hair only to grab your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pistons into you. Your legs start to shake, but he continues his relentless pace, driving into you again and again.

He lowers his body, the expensive fabric of his suit brushing against your back as he leans down.

His tongue traces a path up your spine, making you shudder. He licks the exposed skin of your neck, then bites down on your earlobe, just enough to make you gasp.

Then he places his lips against the back of your head, not kissing, just pressing there to keep you in place and muffle his own moans.

"Fuck," he grunts against your hair, his voice muffled. "So tight. So perfect for me."

He presses a soft peck to your hair before straightening up, his gaze fixed on where you two are connected. His hand comes down hard on your ass once again. Then he grips the reddened flesh tightly, spreading your cheeks apart to watch himself disappear inside you with each powerful thrust.

Your forehead presses against the cool glass of the mirror, eyes closed as you focus on the sensation of him filling you so completely.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, his length hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes the coil in your stomach tighten, ready to snap. 

"I'm gonna… Yunho, I'm close..."

"No, you're not."

With a sudden, cruel movement, he pulls out of you completely, leaving you empty and aching. You cry out at the loss, your body trembling with the denied release.

"Yunho, please..."

"Please what?" he growls, wrapping his hand around his slick cock and stroking himself a few times. Your juices glisten on his length in the dim light. 

"You don't get to come yet. You haven't earned it. You're going to take what I give you, and you're going to thank me for it."

His hand comes down hard on your left cheek, then your right, two rapid, harsh smacks that echo in the tiled bathroom.

The sharp sting makes you gasp, your flesh blooming red under his touch. He soothes the burning skin with his large palms, the contrast of roughness and tenderness making your head spin.

"Such a pretty color on you," he murmurs appreciatively before gripping your hips again.

He slams back into you without warning, even deeper than before. Your legs nearly give out. He slows his pace slightly, making each thrust more deliberate, more punishing.

"You wanted to act like a bitch? Fine. Now you're getting fucked like one. No relief. Just me, using this tight little pussy until I'm satisfied."

The bathroom door swings open. You freeze, a gasp caught in your throat as humiliation washes over you. Through the mirror, you see the woman from earlier pause in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock.

Your hands fly back, trying to push Yunho away, to create any distance between your bodies, but your arms feel like lead.

His arm circles your chest, pulling you upright against him until your back is flush with his chest. The new angle allows him to drive into you even deeper, his hips snapping with more intensity. 

Defeated, you rest your head on his shoulder, your eyes rolling back involuntarily, your mind going blank with overwhelming pleasure. You can't think, can't speak. You can only feel him filling you so good.

"Don't get embarrassed now," Yunho snarls in your ear, his thrusts never faltering. He doesn't even look at the intruder. His eyes are boring into yours in the mirror, a silent, possessive challenge. "Let her see who makes you feel this good. Let her see what my woman looks like when she's being properly fucked."

Your hand shoots out, gripping his wrist desperately to maintain your balance as your knees threaten to give out. Your other hand presses flat against the sink surface, fingers splayed wide as you try to anchor yourself. 

The woman watches for another second before muttering an apology and backing out quickly, pulling the door closed behind her.

Yunho lets out a dark chuckle. "Good girl. You did so well."

When one particularly loud moan escapes, he covers your mouth with his hand.

"Shhh, baby. I know, believe me, I know." He groans low when you squeeze around him involuntarily. "You know I love hearing you, dove, but I'd rather not have security escort us out of a restaurant I spent three weeks getting reservations for." 

Then he replaces his hand with two fingers in your mouth. You immediately suck and lick them, drool falling down your chin. He bites his own lip as he watches you, his eyes dark with hunger.

"Fuck," Yunho groans, his eyes darkening with pure devotion and angry lust. "That's it. So pretty."

He guides your chin toward the mirror, forcing you to look at your reflection. 

"Look at you," he murmurs against your temple. "So beautiful when you're falling apart for me." 

Your body is like putty against him, your dress disheveled with one strap fallen down your shoulder, your hair a mess, mascara smudged beneath your eyes.

He removes his fingers from your mouth, slick with your saliva, and traces them over your lips. 

"Watch," he commands softly. 

Then his hand slides down your body, finding your clit. He begins circling it, watching how easily you respond to his touches in your reflection with such intensity it feels like he's devouring you. Your hips buck against his hand, against his cock still buried inside you.

"Now, since you were so good... you can come," he pants against your lips. "Come for me, Dove. Squeeze my fucking cock."

That's all it takes. Your orgasm tears through you, violent and overwhelming. You scream his name, your body convulsing as your vision whites out.

He follows you over the edge a minute later with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you, hips jerking with the force of his release. 

He grabs your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head back. He cradles your face with his other hand, forcing you to meet his gaze as he continues to thrust through his orgasm.

"I love you," he breathes, desperate and raw. "God, I love you so much." he grunts as he pulses inside you.

"Love you too," you whisper, tears in your eyes. "So much."

Before you can say more, his mouth crashes against yours. It's not a kiss of gentleness, but of raw, overwhelming need. It's sloppy and desperate, filled with spit and drool as your tongues clash. 

He kisses you like he's trying to breathe you in. It's uncoordinated and filthy, a perfect counterpoint to the tender words just spoken, a testament to the storm of emotions raging between you.

He stays there for a moment, breathing heavily against your mouth, the only sounds in the room your ragged breaths.

Then, as quickly as the intensity began, it softens. He pulls out gently, and you feel his warmth leave you. He uses a handful of tissues to carefully clean you up, his touch impossibly tender now. 

"Can't have my perfect girl leaking all over her pretty dress," he teases softly.

He helps you stand, your legs trembling, and pulls your dress back down into place. He turns you to face him, his hands cupping your cheeks as he wipes away the tear tracks and smudged mascara with his thumbs.

"I've got you," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your nose, your lips. "You did so good for me. So perfect."

He helps you fix your hair then. The same fingers that had tangled mercilessly through it only minutes ago now move with impossible care, smoothing down loose strands before tucking them neatly behind your ear.  

He straightens the stubborn strap back to your shoudler, brushes an invisible crease from your waist, then steps back to inspect his work with quiet satisfaction.

Only after deeming you presentable again does he adjust his own tie and smooth his jacket, slipping effortlessly back into the composed man who walked into the restaurant. 

"There."

Your hand flies instinctively to your shoulder.

"Oh, absolutely not."

Yunho catches your wrist before your fingers reach the mark. His mouth twitches.

"You did that."

"I think it suits you." 

You glare at him. He doesn't look remotely sorry. A quiet laugh rumbles in his chest as he leans in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead.

"My beautiful girl."

The words settle warmly beneath your ribs.

"So now you'll fuck me in public," you murmur, "but I'm not allowed to hide the evidence?"

His smile is small. Unapologetic.

"No."

The answer is so simple, so certain, that your heart forgets how to beat for a second.

When you step back into the restaurant, Yunho reaches for your hand without hesitation. His fingers weave through yours naturally, like they've done it a thousand times before. Firm enough that you couldn't pull away if you wanted to. Gentle enough that it feels less like possession and more like certainty.

You barely make it a few steps before your free hand flies to your shoulder.

"This is awful."

A quiet laugh escapes him.

"You seemed very enthusiastic about it five minutes ago."

"Yunho."

His smile only deepens. You try to pull your hair over the marks blooming across your skin. Yunho simply brushes it back over your shoulder again, his fingertips lingering for the briefest second.

"Stop."

"No."

"They're going to see."

His eyes flick toward you, warm with something that makes your chest tighten.

"I know."

You stare at him. He doesn't elaborate. He doesn't need to. The meaning settles somewhere beneath your ribs before you can stop it. 

Then you see her. Still sitting at her table. Still talking to the people around her. Your entire body locks.

"No."

Yunho doesn't even slow down.

"No."

"Dove."

"I am not walking past her."

"You are."

"I'll die."

"You won't."

You make one last pathetic attempt to hide behind him, but he only chuckles softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before lifting it between you. His lips brush across your knuckles. Your breath catches.

Before you can recover, he leans down and presses another absentminded kiss against your temple as you walk, the gesture so effortless it almost feels unconscious. Like this is simply what he does when you're together. Like loving you has become muscle memory.

The woman looks up. Recognition flashes across her face. Her eyes fall to your joined hands. To the kiss. To the way Yunho never once lets go of you. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks so quickly you're convinced the entire restaurant can feel it. But Yunho keeps walking as though nothing remarkable has happened, guiding you back to the table with the same calm confidence he'd walked in with an hour earlier.

This time, however, he pulls your chair out first.

His hand lingers briefly against the back of your seat before he walks around to his own, settling opposite you with infuriating composure.

You reach for your wine immediately. Desperately, because you need it. Bad.

"You never finished your risotto."

You blink over the rim of your glass.

"That's your concern right now?"

"It’s expensive."

You stare at him, waiting for the joke. It never comes. His mouth twitches just enough to betray him as he reaches for his own wine.

Around you, the restaurant carries on exactly as it had before. Cutlery clinks against porcelain. Conversations overlap. Someone laughs near the window. You're convinced every single one of them knows.

Yunho, meanwhile, opens the dessert menu as though the last twenty minutes never happened. He flips a page, the corners already beginning to curl beneath his fingers.

"So," he says, glancing up briefly. "Do we want the tiramisu?"

You swirl the last of your wine around your glass.

"Do we?"

His mouth twitches.

"Good point." He turns another page. "Chocolate soufflé?"

You don't answer. You simply keep looking at him. Long enough that he eventually lowers the menu, meeting your eyes over the edge of it.

"What?"

You tilt your head, pretending to consider the question.

"I kind of hate you."

A quiet smile pulls at one corner of his mouth. Small. Certain.

"No," he says. "You really don't."

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrays you before your face can.

For the first time all evening, silence settles comfortably between you. No misunderstandings hiding beneath it. No sharp edges waiting to catch. Just the familiar quiet that has always belonged to the two of you.

You shift in your chair, wincing almost imperceptibly as the heels remind you how long you've been wearing them.

Yunho notices immediately. His eyes drop beneath the table for half a second before returning to your face.

"They're hurting."

It isn't a question. You sigh dramatically.

"A little."

Without another word, he extends one hand beneath the tablecloth, palm open.

"Give me your foot."

You eye him suspiciously.

"...Didn't we already establish that was a terrible idea?"

A slow smile appears at the corner of his mouth.

"Which is why I'm asking for your foot." His eyes meet yours. "Not your ideas." 

Heat creeps up your neck.

"Yunho."

"I'm choosing to believe you've learned from the experience."

You wisely keep your mouth shut. Judging by the look in his eyes, the only thing Yunho enjoys more than winning is watching you realize you've lost. 

His hand pats his thigh twice, waiting patiently. "Foot." 

You know that tone. The one that isn't asking because it already knows you'll give in. 

With an exaggerated sigh, you shift in your seat. One leg first, then the other. A moment later, both feet are on his lap. The movement is practiced. Unremarkable between you now, which is its own kind of problem.

"This time I'd like you to keep it above my knee."

You nearly choke on your wine.

"Yunho."

"Too soon?"

You can hear the smile in his voice long before you see it.

His hand settles around your ankle, thumb pressing slow circles into the sore skin. Then, almost absent-mindedly, his fingers find the tiny buckle fastening your heel.

You frown.

"...What are you doing?"

"Fixing the problem."

Before you can protest, he unfastens the delicate strap with practiced fingers, easing the shoe from your foot as carefully as though it were made of glass. He sets it beside his leg beneath the table, then repeats the motion with the other one.

The relief is immediate. A quiet breath escapes you before you can stop it. Yunho pretends not to notice.

He simply settles both of your bare feet across his lap again, one broad hand wrapping gently around your arches while his thumb works patiently at the muscles that have been aching since you left the apartment.

It's so automatic. So unceremonious. Like this isn't an act of devotion at all, just another item on the list of ways he takes care of you.

You watch him for a long moment. He doesn’t look up. That, more than anything, makes you smile.

“You’re being weird.”

"Hm?"

"You're... affectionate."

That earns you his attention. He looks up from the menu, genuinely considering the accusation.

“I’m always affectionate.”

You give him a look. 

"You are." You hesitate, searching for words that don't sound quite so vulnerable. "Just... not where people can see."

Something shifts in his expression. Because he's realizing you aren’t accusing him. You’re simply telling him how lonely you felt.

His hand stays on your ankle.

“Maybe I should’ve been.”

The words are quiet enough that no one else could hear them. They don't sound like an apology. They sound better than one.

Across the room, your eyes catch the woman for just a second. Her eyes dip beneath the table for just a moment, lingering where Yunho's hand rests around your ankle as though it's the most natural place in the world for it to be. 

For a heartbeat, you wait for the embarrassment to come. It doesn't. You look back at him instead.

"So. Chocolate soufflé then?" Yunho asks.