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As your final days in New York wind down, you decline an offer from Matthew while constantly scanning the city crowds, trapped in a tense, agonizing limbo of wondering if Mingyu will ever show up on your doorstep.
The weight of your mother's voice lingered in the apartment like cigarette smoke, bitter and impossible to air out. Days bled into each other after that call. You woke, you wrote, you walked, you slept—or tried to. The workshop became your anchor, the only structure in a life that had suddenly lost all its legs.
Professor Harding noticed. She was a sharp-eyed woman in her fifties with silver-streaked hair and a habit of asking questions that peeled back skin. "You're writing with your teeth clenched," she told you after class on Wednesday, tapping a finger on your latest submission. "Technically proficient. Emotionally bankrupt. What are you running from?"
"Deadlines," you said, and her expression told you she didn't believe a word.
You took on three extra assignments that week. Then four the next. You pulled advance readings from the course outline and spent hours in the university library, your highlighter bleeding yellow across pages you wouldn't remember. Anything to keep your brain occupied. Anything to stop the mental cinema from screening its greatest hits: your stepfather's hollow eyes, your mother's measured devastation, Sarah locked in a hotel room, and Mingyu, always Mingyu, walking out of his own wedding with nothing but the clothes on his back.
When the library walls pressed too close, you turned to the city's more expensive distractions. You wandered into boutiques on Fifth Avenue where the sales associates smelled your desperation and descended like well-dressed vultures. A silk blouse you'd never wear. A pair of heels that pinched your toes. A cashmere throw blanket that cost more than your monthly grocery budget. You swiped your credit card and felt nothing—not pleasure, not guilt, just the brief mechanical satisfaction of completing a transaction.
The shopping bags accumulated in the corner of your studio like shedding skin. You stopped unpacking them after the first week.
The restaurant Matthew chose was small and candlelit, tucked beneath a wine bar in the East Village. Brick walls. A single rose in a bud vase. The kind of place that announced intentions before a single word was spoken.
He looked good. Healthy. The two weeks in New York had relaxed something in his shoulders, smoothed the sharp angles of his stress. His linen shirt was rolled at the sleeves, his hair still damp from a shower. When he stood to greet you, he pulled out your chair.
"Chivalry," you said, aiming for lightness. "Didn't know they taught that in law school."
"They don't. I'm self-taught." His smile crinkled his eyes, but there was something careful in it tonight. Something held back.
The dinner passed in easy conversation—his plans for the fall, the firm he'd be joining, a case he was excited about. You asked questions. You laughed at his jokes. You performed the version of yourself that wasn't quietly hemorrhaging, and you did it well enough that he almost seemed convinced.
Almost.
"You're doing it again," he said over dessert, his fork hovering above his tiramisu.
"Doing what?"
"That thing where you're here but you're not. Like you're watching yourself from somewhere across the room."
You set down your spoon. The gelato had melted into a sweet puddle. "I'm trying my best, Matthew."
"I know." His voice was gentle. "I'm not criticizing. I'm just... asking. Are you okay?"
Three words. Such simple words. You looked at him—his windswept hair, his kind eyes, the face of someone who had been nothing but patient and good and safe—and you couldn't lie.
"Trying my best," you said again, quieter this time.
The candle flickered between you. Outside, the city hummed its endless song. Matthew reached across the table and covered your hand with his, his palm warm and dry.
"Come back with me," he said.
"What?"
"To the hotel. Tonight. And then tomorrow, on the flight." His thumb traced circles on your knuckles. "You don't have to stay here alone. Come home. Let me be there for you."
"Matthew—"
"I know the timing is terrible. I know you're dealing with... whatever this is. But I've been thinking about it all week. About us." He took a breath, and you saw it then—the nervousness beneath the composure, the vulnerability he'd been hiding behind his easy smiles. "I want to do this properly. I want you to be my girlfriend."
The word landed like a stone in still water.
Girlfriend.
His girlfriend. Someone's girlfriend. Someone who would call to check in, who would hold your hand in public, who would post photos of you on Instagram with heart emojis and captions about being lucky. Someone safe. Someone normal. Someone who wasn't a secret.
Your throat constricted. For one dizzying moment, you let yourself imagine it. A life without hiding, without shame, without the constant electric fear of being discovered. Sundays spent reading in the same room. Dinner parties with friends who knew your name. A relationship that existed in the light.
But Matthew deserved more than being your escape hatch. He deserved someone who looked at him the way you looked at Mingyu, with that desperate, consuming, catastrophic hunger. Someone who didn't flinch when he touched her because his hands weren't the ones her body was trained to crave.
"Matthew." His name came out broken. "I can't."
His thumb stopped moving. "Can't, or don't want to?"
"Can't. I'm not... I'm not in a place where I can be anyone's girlfriend right now."
"Is this about him?"
The question hung in the air. You could have lied. Should have lied. Instead, you said nothing, and your silence was answer enough.
Matthew withdrew his hand. The loss of warmth felt like a punishment. He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly, and when he looked at you again, the easy warmth that had always lived in his eyes had been replaced by something more careful. More distant.
"I understand," he said. And he probably did. That was the worst part.
The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of polite conversation and forced smiles. He walked you to your door like a gentleman. Kissed your cheek like a friend. And when the door closed behind you, the apartment felt emptier than it ever had before.
Sleep became a fighting match you couldn't win.
You lay in bed that night, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, your body exhausted but your mind on fire. The sheets tangled around your legs. The pillow grew hot and then cold and then hot again. You flipped onto your left side. Your right. Your stomach. Nothing worked.
Somewhere around three in the morning, exhaustion finally pulled you under.
When you wake, the apartment was still dark, but not empty. A silhouette sat on the velvet couch across from your bed, its shape carved from shadow. As you watched, paralyzed, the figure rose and moved into the amber streetlight bleeding through the window.
Mingyu.
He looked different. Thinner. His jaw sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced, dark circles carved beneath his eyes like bruises. But his gaze—that dark, possessive, consuming gaze—was exactly the same.
He crossed the room without a word. His movements were slow, deliberate, predatory. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he slid into the cool sheets behind you. No preamble. No gentle words. Just the heavy, familiar weight of his chest pressing against your back, his rough hands sliding beneath your shirt to grip your hips with bruising force.
His mouth found your neck. His breath scorched your skin.
"Did you think you could run from me?"
His voice was gravel. Smoke. A sound that vibrated through your bones.
Your body betrayed you instantly. Your spine arched, pressing your ass back against the hard ridge of him. A gasp escaped your throat, half protest, half plea. His teeth grazed your earlobe, his stubble scraping the sensitive skin of your shoulder.
"You're mine," he growled against your pulse. "You'll always be mine."
His hand slid down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. He didn't ask. Didn't wait. Just yanked the fabric aside and—
Your eyes flew open.
You sat up in bed, gasping, your heart slamming against your ribs like a caged animal. Sweat cooled on your skin. Your shirt was twisted around your torso. Your thighs were pressed together, slick and aching.
The apartment was empty.
The couch was vacant.
The silence was absolute.
A dream. Just a hyper realistic vivid dream. But your body didn't know the difference. Your nipples were hard peaks beneath your thin tank top. Your core throbbed with a desperate, unmet need. You pressed your palm against your chest, trying to slow your heart, trying to convince your nervous system that you were safe.
It didn't work.
You lay back down, trembling, and didn't sleep again until dawn.
The second month in New York was a tightrope walk over a pit of your own making.
You developed rituals. Checking the street before you left the apartment. Scanning the crowds on Hudson Street for tall men in dark sweaters. Tracking every broad-shouldered silhouette until it passed safely out of range. Your neck grew stiff from the constant swiveling. Your dreams remained a battleground.
Some days, anger consumed you. A pure, clarifying rage that burned through your veins. You hated him. Hated his hands and his mouth and his lies. Hated the way he'd made you believe you were special while he was fucking his fiancée with the same passion, the same face, the same desperate sounds. You wished you'd never met him. You wished he'd stay gone forever.
Other days, the anger curdled into something more difficult to name. A sickening worry that sat in your stomach. You'd catch yourself searching the faces on the subway, half-hoping to find his. You'd check your spam folder for messages that weren't there. You'd lie awake at night and wonder where he was sleeping, whether he was eating, whether he was even alive.
Your mother called every few days with updates. Her voice was strained, exhausted. The scandal had rippled through their social circle like a shockwave. The Parks were demanding compensation for the cancelled wedding—a figure with more zeros than you wanted to think about. Mr. Cho had hired a private investigator to find Mingyu, not out of concern, but out of fury. Sarah had apparently thrown a vase at a wall.
"Your father still won't say his name," your mother told you one evening. "He's rewritten the will already. Mingyu gets nothing. Not a cent. It's like he never existed."
"And Sarah?"
A pause. "She's... unraveled. Her mother says she's not sleeping. Not eating. She keeps calling our house, demanding to know if we've heard anything." Another pause. "I think she loved him. Really loved him. Not the merger, not the money. Him."
Guilt stabbed through you like a needle. You knew exactly how Sarah felt. That was the cruelest part.
The email arrived on a Tuesday afternoon.
You were sitting at your desk, the window cracked open to let in the late summer air, when the notification pinged. No subject line. No sender name. Just a string of random characters that made no sense: `[email protected]`.
Your finger hovered over the delete button. Spam. It had to be spam. But something—some pricking instinct at the base of your skull—made you click it open instead.
Inside was a single audio file. No text. No explanation. Just an MP3 attachment and the encrypted silence of an anonymous sender.
Your hands shook as you plugged in your headphones. Your finger hovered over the play button. You knew, before you pressed it, exactly whose voice you were about to hear.
The audio clicked open. Static hissed for a beat. Then:
"Hey."
His voice hit you like a physical blow. Deep. Gravelly. Exhausted in a way that went beyond physical tiredness. You pressed your palm against your mouth.
"I'm really sorry for everything." A pause. A shaky exhale. "I know you're mad and probably don't wanna hear from me, but I just want you to know that you're out of this. Of everything. I hope you don't blame yourself for what happened. All of this was because of me and my decisions."
The words came faster now, as if he'd rehearsed them and was trying to get through before his nerve failed. "Also, don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I hope someday you find forgiveness in your heart for me." A beat. "And please keep this message a secret. Don't try to track me. I promise to stay away from everyone."
Long, heavy silence. You could hear him breathing on the recording—ragged, uneven breaths that spoke of sleepless nights and too many cigarettes. The track kept running, capturing every shuddering exhale.
Then, lower. Raw. Unraveled.
"I miss you."
The words cracked something inside your chest.
"So much. It fucking hurts."
His voice splintered. Just slightly. Just enough.
"I'm sorry."
The recording cut off.
You sat there in the silence of your studio, your headphones still pressed to your ears, tears streaming down your face before you even realized you were crying. The sound that escaped your throat was animal—a choked, gasping thing that had been building for months.
You missed him too. God help you, you missed him too.
But you clenched your jaw. You wiped your face with the back of your hand. You did not save the file. You did not reply. You buried the secret in the hollow of your chest, next to all the other secrets, and you did not let a single tear fall after that first wave.
No more. I'm done being destroyed by him.
The summer ended without ceremony.
You packed your suitcase on a gray morning, the studio stripped of your presence. The shopping bags you'd never unpacked went to a donation bin on Bleecker Street. The cashmere throw, still in its box, you left on the bed for the next tenant.
The flight home was spent staring at the seatback in front of you, rehearsing your lines.
Your mother met you at the arrivals gate. The moment you saw her face, the careful composure you'd constructed nearly crumbled. She looked older. The lines around her eyes had deepened. Her smile, when she saw you, was genuine but exhausted.
You threw your arms around her and held on tight.
"Mom."
"Welcome home, sweetheart."
You pulled back, scanning her face. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." She smoothed your hair back from your forehead, a gesture from childhood. "I'm just glad you're back. Tell me everything. How was New York?"
"Perfect," you said, the practiced lie sliding out with ease. "The program was incredible. I learned so much. I'm completely fine."
She seemed to believe you. Or maybe she was just too tired to dig deeper.
The mansion felt different when you stepped through the front door. Quieter. Heavier. The absence of Mingyu was a physical presence, a negative space that sucked the warmth from every room. The staff moved through their routines with subdued efficiency. The guest wing sat dark and empty.
Your stepfather found you in the study an hour after you arrived. He looked shrunken somehow, his tailored suit hanging looser on his frame, his sharp eyes dulled. He pulled you aside with a hand on your shoulder, his grip weaker than you remembered.
"I wanted to tell you something," he said. His voice was thick, heavy with something that sounded almost like grief. "I'm proud of you. For pursuing your studies. For doing your best."
"Thank you."
He looked at you then, and his eyes were hollow. Empty in a way that made your stomach drop. "I just hope you turn out to be okay." A pause. His jaw tightened. "Unlike..."
He couldn't finish the sentence. Mingyu's name died on his lips, unspoken and forbidden. He squeezed your shoulder once and walked away, leaving you standing in the study with guilt coiling in your gut like a snake.
This is my fault too.
You carried that guilt with you through the following weeks. Through the quiet dinners where no one mentioned the empty chair. Through the phone calls your father took behind closed doors, his voice raised in arguments you couldn't quite hear. Through your mother's forced cheerfulness and the careful way everyone avoided saying his name.
The Pilates studio was a twenty-minute drive from the mansion, tucked into a strip mall between a juice bar and a boutique that sold artisanal candles. You'd started going three times a week, needing the physical exertion to quiet your mind. The burn in your muscles was a cleaner pain than the one in your chest.
On a hot Saturday afternoon, you stepped out of the studio into the blinding sun, your gym bag slung over your shoulder, your muscles buzzing with endorphins. The asphalt shimmered with heat. Your car was parked at the far end of the lot, a hundred yards of baking pavement between you and the driver's seat.
You were halfway there when the black sedan cut across the lane and pulled up directly in front of you.
Your feet stopped. Your heart didn't.
The tinted window rolled down with a mechanical whir. Sarah's face appeared behind the glass, perfectly made up, her dark hair swept into an elegant twist. She looked expensive. Polished. But her eyes were dead—flat and cold in a way that made your blood run slow.
"Let's get some afternoon coffee," she said. It wasn't a question. "Have a little talk."
Your mouth opened. Closed. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to claim an appointment, to do anything but get into that car. But there was no logical way out. No excuse that wouldn't sound exactly like what it was—cowardice.
"Sure," you managed.
The interior of the sedan smelled like leather and her perfume, something floral and sharp. The doors locked automatically as she pulled out of the lot. You gripped your gym bag in your lap like a shield.
The café she chose was quiet, almost empty, tucked at the end of a cobblestone street you'd never noticed before despite driving past it a hundred times. Secluded. Private. The kind of place where conversations could happen without witnesses.
Sarah ordered a black coffee. You ordered the same, your throat too dry for anything else.
"How have you been?" She didn't look at you as she asked, her eyes fixed on the foam art dissolving in her cup.
"Fine. Busy. New York was..." You trailed off, unsure how much she already knew. "Productive."
"Productive." She repeated the word like she was testing its weight. "That's nice."
"And you? How are you doing?"
Her gaze lifted. Met yours. The emptiness in her eyes was terrifying. "Trying my best to be okay."
The silence that followed was razor-sharp. You took a sip of coffee you couldn't taste.
"Did he ever visit you in New York?" The question came out flat, casual, as if she were asking about the weather.
"No." You held her gaze. That much, at least, was true. "He never did."
"What about a call? A text?"
You shook your head, maintaining the lie with a steadiness that surprised you. "No. He never did. I wish he had, so everyone could finally have some answers, but..." You shrugged, letting the sentence trail off.
Sarah drained the last of her coffee. Set the cup down with a deliberate clink. She stood, adjusting her coat with precise, controlled movements.
"I sure hope you're telling the truth."
Her fingers played idly with her phone screen as she spoke. Then she turned and walked out of the café without looking back. The door swung shut behind her. Through the glass, you watched her car pull away from the curb and disappear around the corner.
You sat paralyzed at the table, your hands wrapped around your cooling coffee, your mind racing.
Then your phone buzzed.
A direct message notification. From Sarah.
Your thumb swiped the screen open.
The air left your lungs in a violent rush. Your body went numb. Flashing on the screen, unmistakable and devastating, was the photo Mingyu had taken months ago, the ball of white cotton and pink fabric on his bathroom counter. Your stolen tank top. Your soft panties. The evidence of everything you'd tried to bury.
You looked up frantically, scanning the street through the café window. Sarah's car was gone. She was gone. But the photo remained, glowing on your screen like a brand.
She had access to his cloud? His iPad? His old phone?
The questions hit you in rapid succession, each one a fresh wound. Did she read the texts? Did she find the call logs? Does she know about the hotel rooms and the hidden bruises and the hands clamped over your mouth in the dark?
Your hands shook so badly you nearly dropped the phone. You clutched it to your chest, staring at the empty street, paralyzed by a flood of terrifying unknowns.
Sarah hadn't confronted you because she wanted an explanation. She'd confronted you to show you that your sanctuary was an illusion. That she knew. That she'd known all along. And now you were completely at her mercy, drowning in the agonizing suspense of what else she was holding over your head.
The café hummed with indifferent life around you—the hiss of the espresso machine, the murmur of distant conversation, the clink of cups on saucers. Normal sounds. Ordinary sounds. They belonged to a world you no longer inhabited.
You sat alone at the corner table, the phone clutched in your trembling fingers, the photo still burning on the screen, and waited for the next blow to fall.
Thinking of ovulating so that night you approach your sweet gentle boyfriend in bed for sex
"Of course, baby. Let me prep you—"
"I don't need it," you say suddenly, pulling down your shorts to reveal your bare cunt and the slick pooling at the top of your thighs.
"O-Oh," he replies, face burning up. "W-Well then, at least let me stretch you out first—"
You say his name firmly, making him clamp his mouth shut.
"I don't want your mouth. I don't want your fingers." You suddenly palm at his groin, running your hand over his throbbing member. "I want your cock. I want you to fuck me as hard as you can for as long as you can. I want to cum so much that I can't move after. Can you do that?"
He's never heard you talk like this, so crude and demanding, but god if it doesn't make him want to give you everything you ask for and more.
He's just as rough as you needed him to be, hitting your sweet spot again and again, relentless. You've already cum three, no, four times and it's only been six minutes.
Another orgasm approaches as he rubs your clit furiously again. You whine into your pillow, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts, and once your orgasm hits you, you wail and tremble, ultimately falling down to the bed, his cock slipping out of you.
"Hey," he whispers, moving your hair aside to get a better look at your face. You're trying to catch your breath as he leans down to kiss your shoulder. "Was that too much?"
You huff, lifting your hand, beckoning to him. He leans down again to nuzzle his cheek into your palm. What he doesn't expect is for you to grab a fistful of his hair and tug harshly.
"I didn't tell you to stop," you mumble half into the pillow, almost glaring at him. He feels a shiver go down his spine as you let him go and slump back into the bed. "Keep going before I get pissed."
He's already peeling your ass cheeks apart, positioning his cock at your pussy's entrance.
He's completely spent by the time he reaches his climax, but at least you're exhausted too. Somehow you still have the energy to go to the restroom to clean up while he changes the sheets. He's grateful once you cuddle up to him under the covers and mumble your thanks before falling asleep on his chest.
He sleeps soundly, but dreams of fucking you all over again, this time sweet and sensual like he prefers...
Wait, no, this feels too real. He feels like his cock is pulsating inside you, not just some vague idea of having sex, but something much more tangible.
When he blinks his eyes open, he's met with sunlight and tits swinging in his face.
"Good morning, baby," you coo, hips gliding up and down his shaft. His breath hitches, hands flying to your hips to still you. You pout. "What's wrong?"
"What... Aren't you tired from last night?"
"I slept it off. I woke up horny." You grind your hips down on him. "I wanted to wake you up with a surprise."
He inhales sharply and sighs deeply. He rubs a hand over his eyes. You feel just as wet and warm as last night, clenching down on him rhythmically, on purpose he presumes. You lean down to kiss his cheek.
"My legs are getting tired," you admit sheepishly, nuzzling into his neck to kiss and nip at his flesh. His cock twitches when you take him into your mouth and suck on him.
"Alright," he almost yawns, flipping the both of you over so you're on your back, his cock still inside you. "Just relax. I'll take care of everything."
the moment when my regular thirst screenshot is not enough because everything matters here: the music, the movements, the t h i c k n e s s… omg this shit is so relatable 🙈🥵 I want him to be mine even for a day or an hour god please my birthday is june 13th btw
Thinking of ovulating so that night you approach your sweet gentle boyfriend in bed for sex
"Of course, baby. Let me prep you—"
"I don't need it," you say suddenly, pulling down your shorts to reveal your bare cunt and the slick pooling at the top of your thighs.
"O-Oh," he replies, face burning up. "W-Well then, at least let me stretch you out first—"
You say his name firmly, making him clamp his mouth shut.
"I don't want your mouth. I don't want your fingers." You suddenly palm at his groin, running your hand over his throbbing member. "I want your cock. I want you to fuck me as hard as you can for as long as you can. I want to cum so much that I can't move after. Can you do that?"
He's never heard you talk like this, so crude and demanding, but god if it doesn't make him want to give you everything you ask for and more.
He's just as rough as you needed him to be, hitting your sweet spot again and again, relentless. You've already cum three, no, four times and it's only been six minutes.
Another orgasm approaches as he rubs your clit furiously again. You whine into your pillow, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts, and once your orgasm hits you, you wail and tremble, ultimately falling down to the bed, his cock slipping out of you.
"Hey," he whispers, moving your hair aside to get a better look at your face. You're trying to catch your breath as he leans down to kiss your shoulder. "Was that too much?"
You huff, lifting your hand, beckoning to him. He leans down again to nuzzle his cheek into your palm. What he doesn't expect is for you to grab a fistful of his hair and tug harshly.
"I didn't tell you to stop," you mumble half into the pillow, almost glaring at him. He feels a shiver go down his spine as you let him go and slump back into the bed. "Keep going before I get pissed."
He's already peeling your ass cheeks apart, positioning his cock at your pussy's entrance.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
the moment when my regular thirst screenshot is not enough because everything matters here: the music, the movements, the t h i c k n e s s… omg this shit is so relatable 🙈🥵 I want him to be mine even for a day or an hour god please my birthday is june 13th btw
Summary: When your ride home falls through after a party, your best friend sends the one person you never expected, her older brother. The only problem? Mingyu has been secretly in love with you for months
Wc: 1,445
Warnings: none!!!
MASTERLIST
-
You hadn’t planned on getting drunk tonight. The party had started innocently enough.
Your friend had had begged you to come with her after work, promising you’d only stay for an hour before grabbing late-night food together.
Somehow an hour had become three, one drink had become several questionable cups of whatever people kept pouring into your hand, and now it was well after midnight.
The music was still shaking the walls, people were singing far too loudly in the living room, and your phone flashed a cruel 5% battery.
Your ride had just texted.
Sorry :( Can’t make it anymore.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
You rubbed your temples before opening your contacts and calling the one person who’d never leave you stranded.
Minseo answered on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Hi…” you sighed dramatically. “Please tell me you’re still awake.”
“I am now.” She laughed immediately, hearing the noise behind you. “You sound absolutely gone.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“You slurred ‘not.’”
“I am… slightly affected by gravity.”
Minseo snorted.
“Oh my God. Where are you?”
You told her the address, leaning against the porch railing to steady yourself.
On the other end of the call you could hear movement, footsteps crossing hardwood floors, cupboards opening, someone speaking in the background.
A man’s voice. One you recognised instantly.
“Wait,” Minseo suddenly said.
Your stomach immediately tightened. “What?”
“Perfect timing.”
“Minseo.”
“Mingyu’s literally grabbing his keys.”
Your eyes widened. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“He can come get you.”
Your back straightened so fast it was almost miraculous. “I can order an Uber.”
“You literally just told me your battery’s dying.”
“I’ll—”
“And surge pricing is ridiculous right now.”
“Minseo.”
Too late. You heard her pull the phone away.
“Oppa!”
Silence. Then Mingyu’s voice floated faintly through the speaker.
“Yeah?”
“Can you pick her up? Her ride cancelled.”
There wasn’t even a second of hesitation.
“Of course.”
Your heart nearly stopped.
“Oh my God,” you whispered.
Minseo was already laughing.
“See? He’s leaving now.”
Mingyu should not have been this excited to pick up his little sister’s best friend.
It was ridiculous. Embarrassing, honestly.
The second Minseo had said your name he’d looked up so quickly he’d nearly dropped his wallet.
Because it was you. The girl who somehow made every family dinner at their house feel brighter.
The girl who walked into a room wearing the simplest outfit imaginable and still managed to completely distract him.
The girl who always wandered into the kitchen while he was cooking just to steal food straight off the chopping board before flashing him an innocent smile that made it impossible to be annoyed.
He’d liked you for months. Longer, if he was honest.
He’d become frighteningly good at pretending he wasn’t completely captivated whenever you laughed at one of his terrible jokes or leaned against the kitchen island chatting with Minseo.
So yes, he was very happy to be the one picking you up.
When he arrived outside the house, he sent a message.
Mingyu: I’m here.
Nothing. He waited another minute.
Mingyu: Minseo said you needed a ride.
Still nothing. He sighed before climbing out of the car and walking towards the house.
That’s when he spotted you. Sitting alone on the front steps. Your elbows rested on your knees, your face buried in your hands as you gently swayed to music that had long since become background noise.
The street light caught the soft waves of your hair. Your dress had ridden up slightly where you’d been sitting, revealing just enough of your legs to make Mingyu instantly drag his eyes away before he could feel guilty for looking.
God. Even after a night out, even with your makeup slightly smudged and your hair messy from dancing. You were beautiful.
He cleared his throat softly. “Hey.”
You looked up. Blinking once. Twice. “Mingyu?”
A sleepy smile spread across your face. “Oh…”
His chest did something stupid. “Yeah.” He smiled back. “It’s me.”
You stared at him for another second before dramatically throwing your head backwards.
“Minseo is trying to ruin my life.”
He laughed. “By asking me to pick you up?”
“I look awful.”
“You don’t.”
The words escaped far too quickly. You frowned at him. “I definitely do.”
“You don’t,” he repeated quietly.
If anything, you looked adorable. You tried standing. Keyword being tried. Your balance immediately betrayed you. “Fuck.”
Before you could stumble, Mingyu was already there. One large hand settled instinctively around your waist while the other steadied your arm.
Your body bumped gently against his chest. For one impossible second, neither of you moved. He could feel the warmth of your body through the thin fabric of your dress.
Your perfume. The tiny hitch in your breathing as you realised how close you were. His fingers tightened instinctively before he caught himself.
He took one careful step backwards. “Come on,” he said softly, offering his arm instead. “Let’s get you home.”
The drive home was almost painfully quiet. Not awkward, but comfortable. You’d curled yourself into the passenger seat, one knee tucked underneath you, cheek resting against the window as city lights flickered across your face.
Mingyu kept his eyes firmly on the road. Mostly. “So…” you mumbled.
“Hm?”
“You drew the short straw tonight?”
He smiled. “I volunteered.”
“You… what?”
“I didn’t mind.”
“You didn’t mind driving across Seoul at midnight to rescue your sister’s drunk best friend?”
“I didn’t.”
Your lips curved. “You’re sweet.”
His ears immediately warmed.
“Minseo always says you act like you’re tough” you continued lazily, “…but you’re actually the biggest softie ever.”
He laughed quietly. “She says a lot of things.”
“Mhm.” You turned your head towards him. “I think she’s right.”
He risked one glance. Big mistake. You were already looking at him. Really looking at him. There was something soft in your expression that made his pulse kick.
He looked back at the road.
“Thanks for coming.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do.”
A tiny smile spread across his face. “If you ever need a ride, just call.”
Your eyebrows lifted. “Any time?”
He answered without thinking. “Any time.”
Silence settled between you again. “Mingyu?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re staring.”
His head snapped forward so quickly he almost laughed at himself.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I was checking if you were awake.”
“Mhm.”
You smiled to yourself. “Is that why your ears are red?”
He groaned quietly. “We’re done talking.”
Your laughter filled the car, warm and genuine. He decided then and there he’d happily embarrass himself every day if it meant hearing that sound.
~
When he walked you to your apartment building, he refused to let you go up alone.
“I’m perfectly capable,” you insisted.
“You nearly walked into a hedge five minutes ago.”
“That hedge moved.”
“It did not.”
You laughed under your breath. As you climbed the last few steps, your foot caught the edge. Before you could stumble, Mingyu’s hand was back around your waist.
“You okay?”
“Mhm.”
You looked up at him. “So…”
“So?”
“Why did you come so quickly?”
He frowned.
“When Minseo called.” Your fingertips lightly brushed against his forearm. “You said yes immediately.”
His throat suddenly felt dry.
“Because…”
The words stuck. He looked at you for a long moment before quietly admitting the truth.
“Because I wanted to.”
Your expression softened. “You wanted to pick up a drunk mess at midnight?”
His gaze met yours. Completely honest. “I wanted to pick you up.”
You simply stared at him, your heart suddenly beating much faster than the alcohol could explain.
“Oh…”
Realising what he’d admitted, Mingyu cleared his throat and took a careful step backwards, giving you space.
“You should get some sleep.” His voice was gentle again. “Text Minseo tomorrow so she knows you’re okay.”
You nodded slowly before unlocking your apartment door. “Mingyu?”
He turned back. You stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame, smiling in that shy, almost disbelieving way that made his heart feel impossibly full.
“Next time,” you said quietly, “you don’t have to pretend you were only doing Minseo a favour.”
His brows knitted together. “What do you mean?”
You held his gaze for a long beat. “I know you like me.”
Everything inside him stopped. He forgot how to speak. Forgot how to breathe. And before he could find the words he’d been keeping buried for months, you smiled one last time.
Then gently closed the door. Leaving Mingyu standing alone in the hallway, staring at the spot where you’d disappeared, one hand still resting on the back of his neck as a helpless smile slowly spread across his face.
He was absolutely, completely, hopelessly gone for you.
“you're making this very difficult for me.” + “i don’t want to hear those words again.” if you could write a hurt/comfort piece with fluffy ending for cheol? maybe a fight or something.
thank you :)
wc ☆ 547 warnings ☆ comfort, allusion to breaking up, ermm idk it’s sad ish an ☆ yay i like this one! i know writing cheol like the back of my hand so this went a lot smoother :> it does feel a bit ooc but it’s still very him! enjoy <3 (event mlist)
“baby…” cheol sighs, standing in the bathroom doorway, hands on his hips.
just hearing the sadness, the disappointment in his voice, makes you hide in the blankets even more. you know damn well you’re being dramatic, but there’s so much deep in you that seungcheol lets you get away with, and right now, you’re so unhappy that you can’t help but be dramatic right now.
“i hate this.” your voice is warbling, and you want to say so much more, but if you keep talking, you’ll cry.
of course, he notices, and wastes no time in going to you and pulling you in his arms. the blanket is pulled off your body, and your head is laid on his bare chest.
“you know i wanna do anything but leave you.” he says, and you can hear the pout in his voice. whether it’s out of pity or his own sadness, you don’t know, but you’ll take that and the kisses he leaves to the small part of your face not hidden by your blanket.
“i really,” you sniffle, “i really hate this.”
one of his hands snakes under the blanket and lands on your head, gently caressing your crown. “you’re making this really hard for me, sweetheart. i have to make work trips so i can take care of you, hm?”
it gets harder and harder to hold your tears in, to contain all your emotions, and with a shudder you can’t help but slowly let it out. “i’m so- so tired of going through this.. i can’t keep doing it…”
it feels like time stops as soon as the words leave your lips. you regretted saying it as quick as the thought popped up in your head, but you’re genuinely so overwhelmed that there was no stopping you in the moment. seungcheol’s phone lights up on the nightstand, and the time reads that he was supposed to leave ten minutes ago, but his body is rigid and you know he’s not going anywhere.
his grip doesn’t falter one bit, but he stays dead silent while finding his words. you feel even worse, cry into him harder, already imagining what could come after such an utterance.
he takes a breath in. “i know you don’t mean that.” it’s hard to say the right thing, to hold in how he really feels and communicate properly, so it takes a moment to say anything more. “you’re upset. you didn’t mean it.”
you sniffle, “i’m sorry, cheol.”
he hums, kissing your crown, “i know. i know. you’re okay. everything’s okay.” there’s a bit more silence before he can stop self regulating and actually converse, “i can’t back out of the trip now, but i’ll try my best to cut down on them. i’ll make sure to call you or at least update you as much as possible, okay? does that work for now?”
you nod, and he continues, “i’m really sorry, i want to stay and be with you for longer, but i need to go now.” he turns your face away from his now soaked skin to truly look in your eyes, and it comforts you to see his unmoving pout before it meets yours. “i don’t want to hear those words again, okay? we’ll always work through it.”
“you're making this very difficult for me.” + “i don’t want to hear those words again.” if you could write a hurt/comfort piece with fluffy ending for cheol? maybe a fight or something.
thank you :)
wc ☆ 547 warnings ☆ comfort, allusion to breaking up, ermm idk it’s sad ish an ☆ yay i like this one! i know writing cheol like the back of my hand so this went a lot smoother :> it does feel a bit ooc but it’s still very him! enjoy <3 (event mlist)
“baby…” cheol sighs, standing in the bathroom doorway, hands on his hips.
just hearing the sadness, the disappointment in his voice, makes you hide in the blankets even more. you know damn well you’re being dramatic, but there’s so much deep in you that seungcheol lets you get away with, and right now, you’re so unhappy that you can’t help but be dramatic right now.
“i hate this.” your voice is warbling, and you want to say so much more, but if you keep talking, you’ll cry.
of course, he notices, and wastes no time in going to you and pulling you in his arms. the blanket is pulled off your body, and your head is laid on his bare chest.
“you know i wanna do anything but leave you.” he says, and you can hear the pout in his voice. whether it’s out of pity or his own sadness, you don’t know, but you’ll take that and the kisses he leaves to the small part of your face not hidden by your blanket.
“i really,” you sniffle, “i really hate this.”
one of his hands snakes under the blanket and lands on your head, gently caressing your crown. “you’re making this really hard for me, sweetheart. i have to make work trips so i can take care of you, hm?”
it gets harder and harder to hold your tears in, to contain all your emotions, and with a shudder you can’t help but slowly let it out. “i’m so- so tired of going through this.. i can’t keep doing it…”
it feels like time stops as soon as the words leave your lips. you regretted saying it as quick as the thought popped up in your head, but you’re genuinely so overwhelmed that there was no stopping you in the moment. seungcheol’s phone lights up on the nightstand, and the time reads that he was supposed to leave ten minutes ago, but his body is rigid and you know he’s not going anywhere.
his grip doesn’t falter one bit, but he stays dead silent while finding his words. you feel even worse, cry into him harder, already imagining what could come after such an utterance.
he takes a breath in. “i know you don’t mean that.” it’s hard to say the right thing, to hold in how he really feels and communicate properly, so it takes a moment to say anything more. “you’re upset. you didn’t mean it.”
you sniffle, “i’m sorry, cheol.”
he hums, kissing your crown, “i know. i know. you’re okay. everything’s okay.” there’s a bit more silence before he can stop self regulating and actually converse, “i can’t back out of the trip now, but i’ll try my best to cut down on them. i’ll make sure to call you or at least update you as much as possible, okay? does that work for now?”
you nod, and he continues, “i’m really sorry, i want to stay and be with you for longer, but i need to go now.” he turns your face away from his now soaked skin to truly look in your eyes, and it comforts you to see his unmoving pout before it meets yours. “i don’t want to hear those words again, okay? we’ll always work through it.”
SUMMARY: Your seven years of marriage have become strained. However, there have been so many unusual things happening with your husband. You thought he was acting weird, but his actions say otherwise. You think he is sick, maybe a little messed up in the head. It's all up to you to find out.
PAIRING: choi seungcehol x f!reader
GENRE: drama, angst, comedy
WARNINGS: mature content, strong language, mental health themes, DID (dissociative identity disorder), split personality, marriage conflict, one-sided love, arranged marriage, avoidant attachment, emotional impermanence, anxious attachment, implied anxiety and panic attacks, miscommunication between couples, mention of divorce, no smut for this chapter, migraine subtly mentioned, constant overthinking.
WC: 8,814
ADD TAGS❦: established relationship, CEO! seungcheol, target audience: me, wife!reader, sun x moon dynamic, cheol is a little mean, she fell first he fell harder type of shii aye, attorney!jeonghan, secretary!mingyu, dr. jeon as moral and emotional support, therapist! joshua, i write tragedy not sins, this is actually sad but we are coping, kkuma cameo!
main masterlist - series masterlist - taglist
a/n: ayeee, thee day has finally come! i like to suffer myself just a little bit. enjoy reading (or not).
Prologue
When life gives you lemons…
You want to squeeze them right in front of your husband's eyes, but of course, you can't do that. So instead, you squeeze them into his water bottle tumbler, knowing that he hates lemon.
But today, you don't have any lemons in stock. You were given a box of tangerines instead, probably from one of the relatives, you guessed. Not that you know half of them. Perhaps it was given by the other side of your husband's family. Being married to the son of the family that owns and operates Diamonds Group—the conglomerate company—was not for the weak. You nearly had to pay half the price for being his wife.
It's not that he had been treating you badly, or that his family treated you like an outsider. If anything, half of these years living with him felt like living with a roommate. Maybe even business partners who shared the same space and lived under the same roof.
It was all dull and gloomy.
Just like that, you had wasted seven years of marriage with a man who acted as cold as stone toward you.
"I want a divorce."
You said it out of nowhere as Jeonghan hummed, skimming through his documents while leaning back in his chair at the office.
"I'm serious this time," you said with a sigh, crossing your arms as you stood in front of his desk. "I know I've been saying the same thing for the past few years, and thank you for being my unpaid therapist—but I'm really filing for divorce this time."
Jeonghan stopped skimming through the documents, his fingers hovering over the paper as he looked at you through the rim of his glasses.
"Okay..." he slowly exhaled, placing the papers down as he clasped his hands together on his desk. "So, how do you want to get divorced? By agreement or... trial? Unless Seungcheol disagrees, or you want to file a lawsuit. You'll have to go through mediation if you want that."
He stood up now, palms resting on the desk as he looked at you.
"But I doubt he'd disagree. Just go by agreement—talk with him and—"
"I wanna file a lawsuit."
Jeonghan immediately laughed at that, shoving his hands into his slacks pockets like it was the funniest joke he'd ever heard.
"Don't joke around. If you wanna win against him, you're going to lose—"
"And I want you to be my representative lawyer."
Almost instantly, his laughter died down. His lips sealed shut as he stared at you.
There was a brief moment of silence.
And judging by the look on your face, you weren't joking either.
"Are you kidding me?" Jeonghan looked as though he'd just been personally insulted. "That's like ASKING for the death penalty! Are you trying to put my career at risk?"
He was pacing around like a madman while you simply watched him tear his hair out, fiddling with your hands.
"That's why I reached out to you. You're one of the best attorneys in this building."
He stopped in his tracks, looking at you sharply like he was about to scold a child, making you flinch under his intense gaze.
"_____, I'm the legal director. One of his closest partners. Do you want me to get fired?" he groaned, pacing again. "Remember Attorney Kim who sought a divorce from his wife? Yeah, that divorce didn't end well. His career basically went downhill afterward. Even his own firm isn't doing well now, from what I heard."
"You mean Mrs. Choi Mina, the CEO of the department store?" your brows lifted in curiosity. You knew her; she was one of Seungcheol's relatives—the one you saw at the memorial ceremony.
Jeonghan snapped his fingers. "Yes. Exactly. He should've seen that coming. He had everything and still chose to leave in the end."
You nearly scoffed at that. “What would you know about marriage? Maybe the relationship was bad, probably why he's leaving.”
He ignored you and continued. “My whole point is, why would you go to such trouble for this? Oh my god, thinking about it makes me want to—”
“It was a loveless marriage,” you stated. “I want to sue him because of that, and also for making me waste a whole seven years of my life on this.”
The man stopped in his tracks, his crash-out temporarily postponed as he looked at you. For a moment, he just stared.
“You know that's not a proper reason to sue him.”
“Then what about suing him for breaking a promise?” you said casually with a shrug. “You know, is that reasonable enough? Marriage vows and contracts were made.”
“I mean...” He sighed, rubbing his temple. “It does count as breaching a promise between spouses. Listen, why not just talk to him, discuss whatever it is, make a mutual agreement—and you're free.”
“...It's not that easy.”
“Just try. Be on the same wavelength as him,” he punctuated with a knock on his desk. “And if you're lucky, he'll agree to a mutual agreement, you'll be on the same page, and that's the end of it.”
You made a face, letting out a disbelieving scoff.
“Same page? We're not even sleeping in the same bedroom, Jeonghan! And that's the problem.”
Now it was your turn to pace around like a madwoman.
“Oh my god, it seems like you don't understand me. I wanted to sue him because of that. I spent years trying to be a good wife to him, and I even quit my job as a news anchor because of him!”
You finally let out an exasperated breath as Jeonghan just stared at you. It looked like he was staring because he thought you were being weird now.
But you were far from finished.
“I didn't just quit, I also dedicated my whole life trying to please him, but he never ever looked my way!” you said, flailing your arms. “Then when I told him I wanted to create my own beauty brand, he did support it—but only by giving me the capital and never supporting me verbally. I guess his way of showing his so-called love is throwing money at me.”
You scoffed at that.
“And not just that, he never eats dinner. When I tried to cook his favourite dish, he came back the next day. Does that man even eat?” You felt ridiculous for even caring in the first place.
Jeonghan just let you ramble as you continued.
“What kind of workaholic insanity is that? In fact, I never see him at home. It's like he's sleeping in his office.”
After a while, he spoke slowly. “So...you want to sue him for emotional damage and neglect?”
You thought for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Maybe that's what I'm thinking.”
Then suddenly, your eyes widened as you snapped your fingers. “Oh! We can use a third party interference claim. I want to charge him with that too.”
The man rolled his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. “You need actual evidence for that. Accusing someone without proof is not it.”
“Then find one.”
The way you said it so simply nearly drove Jeonghan insane.
“I'm not doing that. And who's we?”
“You're a former Supreme Prosecutor. You can fabricate anything, right?”
“Oh my god, are you trying to get me fired by my boss???”
He looked genuinely bewildered now.
Your afternoon was wasted on trauma-dumping in Jeonghan's office. You were supposed to be at your father's house, but this whole burdening issue needed to come to an end.
The moment you were about to head downstairs, you ran into Seungcheol—your husband, as stated on paper.
The elevator opened, revealing him with his secretary, Mingyu, beside him. His secretary stepped out, allowing Seungcheol to enter the elevator alone with you.
“Are you not going to come in?”
That deep voice almost made the hair on your arms stand up. Even the staff around him probably felt the same.
His secretary only smiled and gestured politely. “It's alright, sir. You go ahead first. I'll take the next one.”
With that, the elevator doors closed as Seungcheol pressed the button. The silence was torturous. Dreadful enough to leave you suffocating in the same space as him.
God, even his cologne invaded your nostrils, almost making you gag at how overwhelming it was. Not just you either—the entire building knew it.
You once heard one of the front desk staff exaggerate that they always knew when he arrived because his signature scent lingered like a nightmare. You could practically imagine employees scrambling into panic the moment they realized their boss was on the way.
“Why are you here all of a sudden?”
His voice made you jump like a deer caught in headlights. You hadn't done anything wrong, so why did you feel like you had committed a crime?
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you answered softly.
“I was meeting with Jeonghan.”
“Is it about the staff member who broke one of your prototypes and tried to leak the plans to a third party?”
He didn't even look at you.
Great.
“You can ask Chan to handle that lawsuit.”
You wanted to hit him. Your fist even lifted slightly, tempted to smack the back of his head. Of course, he didn't notice your childish behaviour.
“No. It's not about that.”
You cleared your throat, trying to follow Jeonghan's advice.
“S-so... will you be back home today?”
You mentally cursed yourself for stuttering.
Why were you nervous? You're the one who wanted a divorce after all.
He glanced down at his wristwatch, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.
“No. I'll probably be late. As usual, don't wait for me.”
The way he said it so casually, like it was a line he'd repeated over and over again, never failed to make your heart sink.
And somehow, it still did.
Even though you were supposed to be numb to it by now.
“It's important,” you insisted.
“I don't know how important it is. If you want to discuss it, we can do it another time.”
He still wasn't looking at you.
“But it is urgent,” you pressed. “When am I finally supposed to see you?”
“You could've told Mingyu about it, and I could fit you into my schedule.”
The words sounded so formal. So business-like.
You hated it.
You wanted an immediate answer, not to ask for an appointment with your own husband.
“I want a divorce.”
There.
You finally said it.
Seungcheol faltered ever so slightly.
Then, almost deliberately, he turned to look at you.
The elevator doors opened. You stepped out, turning back to face him.
“Let's discuss it more at home.”
That word—home—felt both foreign and familiar.
You couldn't even call that place a home anymore if there was no warmth left in it.
Then the elevator doors closed again.
For the first time, Seungcheol didn't know how to feel. So consumed by work, he had failed to notice that something like this would come much sooner than he expected.
Seungcheol doesn't know how many hours of his life he had dedicated to work in a single day. The work that he swore himself to the day he turned eighteen.
And that same work had also caused his marriage to fail.
Another day had passed yet again. For some reason, the world around him had slowly faded. The sounds in the background had become so distant that he didn't hear the voice calling out to him.
“Director Choi?”
The voice echoed, catching his attention as he blinked. Momentarily, he stared at the boardroom table as everyone waited for his response.
“Right,” he exhaled, straightening in his seat. “Could you repeat that?”
One of the staff members continued, repeating the report regarding last year's balance sheet. Seungcheol's body was physically there, he was anything but focused on what was happening around him.
Just as he blinked, his eyes widened.
The boardroom was gone.
His gaze adjusted to the ceiling of his penthouse instead, then to the papers spread out in front of him.
The divorce agreement.
His eyes landed on you. You looked back at him, still listing out the details of the property division.
“Did you even hear what I'm saying?”
He didn't press any further. Instead, he slid the paper toward himself and signed it without hesitation. “I am. Just list out what you need, and I'll compensate for it.”
He finished signing before sliding the papers back to you with ease. There wasn't a hint of a smile or any emotion behind his expression.
Like he had already adapted to whatever this was. You took a moment to stare at him, disliking how easy all of this seemed for him. Taking the papers from him with deliberate movements.
His eyes darted up to you as he finally stood. You watched the broadness of his shoulders as he walked away.
Just as he stopped in his tracks, he turned back. “You can take the villa in Jeju Island. It was a wedding gift after all.”
You almost bristled at that and immediately stood up. “I don't need that. I have my own property too.”
Your husband actually looked at you this time, hands buried in his slacks pockets.
“I told you to just take it. Don't be so stubborn about it. I don't have a reason to go there anyway. You can use it for your tangerine picking or whatever, since you've been replacing lemons in my bottle.”
Then he walked upstairs, leaving you frustrated.
Even in the middle of the divorce process, he still treated you like the immature one.
When Seungcheol finally entered his room, he sat on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes for a moment.
A sudden buzzing sensation spread through his head. His brows furrowed, exhaling slowly before glancing at the calendar beside him.
A reminder.
Your anniversary this weekend. The reminder itself felt like it was mocking him. You two were about to separate anyway. Why was he still dwelling on things like this?
The last time he celebrated it, it had been another expensive dinner with gifts and flowers. The same routine every year, until the sixth anniversary.
As the years passed, your smile only seemed to grow more distant whenever he gave them to you. Perhaps you were tired of the same meaningless gifts. Still, he thought it was better than doing nothing. Forgetting would've been worse.
The point was, he had a feeling something was wrong. His body felt exhausted more than usual. At first, he assumed it was because he had been working too much.
But this wasn't a normal headache.
Sometimes he would zone out, and when he opened his eyes again, he would be somewhere else entirely.
He could swear he had been sitting in one place, yet somehow he would find himself in a completely different location.
It was probably stress. At least, that's what he kept telling himself.
Even Mingyu had pointed out how distracted he had become during meetings and conversations. His secretary advised him to take a break, but Seungcheol insisted on finishing his deadlines instead. He was fully aware that he pushed himself harder than anyone else.
“What are you doing standing there?”
The voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Blinking, he turned toward you, momentarily dumbfounded.
You stared back at him with equal confusion. “You've been standing there for more than five minutes. Hello?”
You waved a hand in front of his face.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he glanced down at the coffee mug in his hand and took a sip.
“Then why are you standing so close to me?”
Letting out a huff, you grabbed a tangerine from the fruit basket behind him while maintaining eye contact.
“Oh, you know. Picking up my tangerine instead of squeezing lemons into someone's drink.”
He simply let you be, watching as you headed upstairs, probably to your room.
His eyes drifted toward the clock hanging on the wall.
Four o'clock in the afternoon.
His expression faltered. Then he checked the date. Today was your anniversary.
That couldn't be right.
As far as he remembered, he had only been discussing the property division with you this morning.
He checked again. Then again. Opening his laptop to verify the date.
Today was the seventeenth of May.
And if his memory served him correctly, that divorce discussion had happened on Friday.
A sudden wave of dizziness hit him. He exhaled quietly, not realizing sweat had begun forming on his forehead.
Maybe Mingyu was right. Maybe he was simply exhausted from overworking himself. He convinced himself it was just an occasional migraine, yet the pattern kept repeating.
His concentration would disappear and hours would vanish. Sometimes entire chunks of time felt blurred. He thought it might finally be time to get a proper medical checkup.
Your sleep was suddenly disturbed by scratching noises coming from your bedroom door. Reluctantly, you woke up, half-asleep as you dragged your feet across the floor. Opening the door, you were greeted by Kkuma, the fluffy furball barking up at you before she immediately turned around and walked away, as if telling you to follow her.
“Kkuma... it's not even breakfast time. Why are you bothering me in the middle of the night?” you groaned sleepily, following behind her with lazy steps.
It was raining heavily outside.
The dim lights illuminated the dark penthouse as you turned on the kitchen light.
Just as you were about to enter, you shrieked—a human figure stood there with his back facing you. The lightning flashed outside, accompanied by an ominous soundtrack playing in your head.
It's just Seungcheol.
After calming yourself down, you cautiously peeked beside your husband, waving a hand in front of his face, trying to test the waters first.
Was he sleepwalking?
Your thoughts were interrupted by Kkuma's relentless barking beside you.
You looked down at the creature and sighed. “Stop that.”
You frowned at the dog before looking back at him. Only then did you notice that his eyes had been closed the entire time.
Your gaze lingered on the scattered tangerines across the counter. A little skeptical about why the kitchen was such a mess.
Brushing the thought aside, you gently shook him.
“Seungcheol?”
After a while, his eyes slowly opened.
You were taken aback by how quickly he adjusted. Without saying a word, he simply turned around and walked upstairs as if nothing had happened.
The only sounds left behind were the heavy rain pouring outside and Kkuma's soft barking and whimpering as she pawed at your legs.
You didn't ask him about that night the next day. Instead, you carefully observed him while he got ready for work. When he noticed your suspicious gaze from behind the rim of your mug, he called you out while buttoning his cuffs.
“What are you staring at for? Did you put something in my briefcase again?”
Blinking, you lowered your mug.
“No...”
There was a brief pause. He didn't even look like he remembered sleepwalking.
“...That got me thinking. Did something unusual happen last night?”
Seungcheol looked at you as though you were the one acting strange. “I'm not sure what you're implying. What else do you think happened besides a relentless shareholder meeting calling for me?”
You take that back. He's infuriating as usual, always trying to stir up problems when all you wanted was a proper answer.
“Never mind. I hope you accidentally step on a tangerine and slip.”
Seungcheol paused midway through turning around, looking back at you with a raised brow.
“Say that again.”
You immediately turned away, picking up Kkuma as you walked back toward the kitchen.
“Oh dear, it's time for your treat, isn't it, baby?” You cooed at her dramatically, sending one last petty glare in his direction.
—
“I'm glad that you sought help from us, however...” he sighed, clasping his hands together on his desk as he looked at you. “...I don't think you've come to the right person or department for this issue.”
“You're a doctor too, soooo—”
At this point, it was almost ridiculous how often you saw Dr. Jeon compared to your own husband.
Wonwoo had been one of your friends back in university. It was funny how your friendship with him had lasted longer than your marriage.
“I told you last time.” He looked one step away from crashing out.
You could vividly remember Jeonghan reacting the same way the other day.
“If you want a counselling session, go to Joshua. And for the record? This is my only lunch break. Did you have to come at the worst possible time?”
You stared at his lonely meal consisting of a cream cheese bagel and a box of apple juice.
“But... it's only a cream cheese bagel and ham.”
“It's depressing, I know.”
“Anyway, as I was saying—how do I acquire medical records for emotional damage?”
You brushed his complaint away with a dismissive wave.
After a long pause, an exaggerated sigh escaped Wonwoo as he stared at you, brows furrowed.
“I'm an OB-GYN, not a psychiatrist, _____. That alone proves you never cared about my field of expertise, and honestly, it's very insulting.”
“...So, how?”
The audacity of you to ask again. Wonwoo let out a loooong exhale before tossing the empty juice box into the nearby bin.
“I assume you need it for a reason?”
He spun slightly in his chair and began typing on his computer. “What is it? To prove an absence from work? For HR or—”
“It's for a divorce settlement.”
You finally cut him off, and your friend abruptly froze.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard as his eyes darted toward you skeptically.
“Divorce? You're getting... a divorce?”
He repeated it as if he needed to hear it twice.
You nodded. The confirmation alone was enough to make him fall silent.
Leaning back in his chair, he seemed unsure how to respond.
“Sorry to hear that. But just so we're clear, if you're planning to use that in court, it might take a while for a psychiatrist to provide a formal assessment. Unless you're in critical condition.”
“I am in critical condition, though.”
His eyes narrowed, then he sighed again.
“My point is, if you're planning to use that against your husband, I don't think it'll work. After being diagnosed by a psychiatrist and attending therapy sessions, you still need to go through the proper process to prove you've received legitimate medical attention.”
His tone had become much more serious now. And he wasn't even finished.
“My real question is, why do you want to sue Choi Seungcheol? He can give you money—probably double my salary. I bet this advice came from a lawyer.”
Your eyes immediately brightened.
“Oh? How did you know that?”
“Obviously. It's not uncommon for doctors to know things like this.”
He continued typing without taking his eyes off the monitor.
“Whoever is handling your divorce case must be completely out of his mind if he's agreed to represent you.”
“It's Jeonghan.”
That finally made him stop.
Looking at you, he blinked.
“You're joking.”
Judging by your face, you clearly weren't.
A dry chuckle escaped him as he dragged a hand down his face.
“I am not getting involved in this. If your soon-to-be ex-husband finds out, he'll have my head too.”
“You don't even work for him.”
You made a face at the way he was talking.
“Easy for you to say.”
The keyboard clicks were the only sound filling the room.
“He's part of a conglomerate family. You're from a wealthy family. And me? I'm just some ordinary guy. One wrong step and I'll be seeing the chairman of this hospital, who's probably connected to the Chois anyway.”
You rolled your eyes at his dramatic narrative.
“Come on. My family isn't that wealthy. We're comfortable.”
Wonwoo actually looked at you this time.
After all these years of being your friend, he knew one thing for certain: Being friends with you was like walking on thin ice. He wasn't sure whether you were genuinely being modest or simply humble-bragging.
“Oh, really? Then give me fifty dollars.”
Frowning at him, you leaned forward. “This is serious, Wonwoo. Me and Seungcheol are getting a divorce, and it's been seven years—not seven months.”
You let out a breath.
“Anyone would be upset knowing they spent years of their life loving someone who never really cared about them... only to end up with nothing.”
Not that you never thought it would become this messy.
People always said that just because you started a relationship in your twenties didn't mean it would remain the same in your thirties. Nevertheless, your situation with Seungcheol was different.
It all started with an arranged marriage between both families. You even broke up with your ex-boyfriend because of it. At some point, as the early stages of your marriage began, you figured that eventually, you would come to love him.
He wasn't exactly a bad husband.
In life, to find a good man, there are at least three criteria that should be met in order to have a happy marriage.
One: generosity.
Cheapness runs in one's blood, and children tend to inherit what they see from their parents. They grow up watching how their parents earn money by waking up early in the morning and coming home late at night. They also learn from how their parents spend that money.
If a man complains about a twenty-cent charge on his credit card despite earning four hundred thousand a month, or if another man only has fifty dollars to his name yet willingly spends his last forty on your meal, the difference isn't about how much money they have.
It's generosity that changes everything. And Seungcheol was never stingy with you.
He gave you practically everything.
When you told him you wanted to open your own beauty clinic after resigning from your job, he didn't make a grand speech about supporting you. He didn't loudly encourage you or shower you with praise.
He simply gave you the capital and trusted you to do whatever you wanted with it.
Sometimes it felt absurd, as though he believed money could solve everything. Yet he never used it to control you either, even when it would've been easier for him to spoil you rotten and keep you dependent on him. Nevertheless, generosity was still one of the most important qualities a man could have.
Two: how they handle stress and challenges.
If a man struggles with anger management, he'll explode the moment his car breaks down, a tire goes flat, or something simply doesn't go his way. That anger eventually reaches the people around him. Whereas some men face life's challenges calmly and immediately focus on finding a solution.
A real man wouldn't vent his frustrations onto you or make you feel responsible for his distress. He would continue treating you with the same patience and gentleness.
And despite Seungcheol's reputation as a cold and distant man, he rarely expressed irritation. Let alone anger.
Okay, maybe you were exaggerating a little.
But he was nowhere near an angry person. You annoyed him all the time, yet he never responded with the kind of annoyance a man would show toward someone desperately trying to get his attention.
It was more like he simply accepted that you were... childish.
Not playful. Just childish.
You doubted he even saw you as a woman trying to win his affection. More like a cat scratching places it wasn't supposed to.
Three: a man who knows how to take care of you.
At first, you thought this was simply your standard. A woman should never have to teach a man how to be patient, or how to care for her.
Seungcheol wasn't expressive with words, but he was observant.He could immediately tell when something was wrong with you. Like that time you got sick while he was buried in work.
He ended up adopting a ragdoll kitten—Soya. That was her name. All because he heard ragdolls were affectionate and would make good companions for both you and Kkuma.
And honestly?
It took less than a second for you to forgive him for things like that. It's not like he never did anything right. Even when his presence wasn't there, he always—always—made sure you were taken care of. Whether it came from love or obligation, you simply assumed he was fulfilling his responsibilities as a spouse.
Ugh.
It was almost frustrating. Because you couldn't even pinpoint what was actually missing.
Aside from the fact that your love never seemed to reach him. Sure, he wasn't the type to openly express himself.
A lot of men were like that. Yet you didn't want to generalize him just because he happened to fall into that category.
“Have you considered marriage counselling?”
You blinked before shaking your head.
“Why would we do that? Even if we did, he barely makes time for anything, and I don't think it would've worked anyway.”
Wonwoo let out a small sigh, his eyes still fixed on the monitor as he typed away.
“That's not even a question. I'm suggesting that you should attend one.”
“And why would that be?”
“Because it sounds like you still want to save your marriage.”
This time, he looked up at you. Really looked at you.
For a moment, you hesitated. Not because his words struck particularly deep. But because they forced you to question whether you had made the right decision. Besides, you no longer wanted to dwell on a one-sided love.
You were tired of doing this to yourself.
Before you could respond, your phone rang inside your handbag. You quickly rummaged through it and answered the call.
“Oh, yes, Secretary Kim.”
You pressed the phone to your ear. Then your expression changed.
“Seungcheol fainted? Uh—I'll be right there.”
Wonwoo looked up at your sudden reaction, confusion written all over his face.
“I need to go first. We'll talk again, Wonwoo.”
You hurriedly grabbed your things and rushed out of the room.
Wonwoo watched you leave. He didn't know everything about your marriage.
And it wasn't his place to assume.
However, your reaction certainly didn't look like someone eager to end a seven-year relationship. Whatever was happening between you and your husband, he could tell it wasn't as simple as a marriage that had merely run its course.
—
Every pattern in your life repeats until you learn the lesson. The moment you choose differently, the loop ends and growth begins.
Bad habits die hard. In the middle of a divorce settlement, most people wouldn't care much about how their spouse was doing.
But you? The moment Mingyu told you that your husband had fainted, you came running without a second thought.
What could possibly go wrong this time?
From what you knew, Seungcheol had always been healthy—or at least physically healthy from what you'd seen over the years. You were well aware that he was a workaholic, even before reaching the peak of his career.
You stared at his figure lying on the office sofa. Mingyu stood nearby alongside Jeonghan, looking one step away from passing out, judging by how hard he was biting his nails.
When the doctor finally finished examining him, he stood up and turned toward the three of you. His gaze landed on you, presumably assuming you were family.
“He's alright. His pulse is perfectly normal.”
The relief in Mingyu's sigh was almost immediate.
“It appears to be exhaustion caused by prolonged stress. May I ask if he's been taking any medication recently? Perhaps for migraines?”
You hesitated. Then the memory of him sleepwalking flashed through your mind.
Instead of answering, you looked toward Mingyu as if searching for confirmation that something similar had happened before. The man blinked before letting out an audible, “Ah.”
“I saw some medication on his desk, so I assumed he'd been taking it.” He glanced toward Seungcheol before continuing. “Mr. Choi mentioned that he's been experiencing headaches more frequently than usual.”
The doctor nodded, and the discussion continued for a few more minutes. Eventually, after the doctor left, your gaze returned to Seungcheol's unconscious figure. You crouched beside him, studying his sleeping features.
“How did this happen?”
You looked up at Jeonghan and Mingyu.
Jeonghan let out a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “He nearly collapsed in the doorway when the meeting started. Good thing I caught him before he completely hit the floor.”
“Had to cancel the meeting too,” Mingyu added. “If the shareholders had been here today, it would've caused a huge commotion.”
You listened quietly, nodding as your attention drifted back to your husband. For a moment, you deliberately pressed your ear against his chest.
Mingyu immediately made a noise while Jeonghan jabbed an elbow into his stomach.
“His heart is beating normally, alright.” You pulled away and stood up.
“Of course he is. The doctor literally just said that.”Jeonghan interjected. “I mean—the rich are very strict about their blood pressure. Seungcheol's always careful with his sodium intake—”
You and Mingyu stared at him.
He let out an awkward chuckle in between. “What I'm saying is,” Jeonghan corrected himself with a gesture, “he's a healthy man. He's just drowning in stress. It's obvious things haven't exactly been organized lately.”
Mingyu nodded in agreement.
“Mr. Yoon's right. Director Choi has been rather quiet lately. Maybe crankier than usual? I'm not entirely sure, but he's been working until midnight almost every day. Even the employees don't stay overtime that long.”
You let out a quiet sigh. It was hard not to think about everything currently weighing on him. The company, the workload—and now the divorce. The thought alone gnawed at you.
What if this had been the final straw? What if your divorce was part of the reason?
Turning toward Jeonghan, you spoke carefully. “...Do you think it was because of that?”
“Because of what?”
Jeonghan looked genuinely confused.
“You know. The divorce.”
“A divorce?!”
Mingyu nearly jumped out of his skin. His eyes darted between you and Jeonghan.
“Ma'am, what do you mean by that? And hyung—why am I only hearing about this now?”
Jeonghan shushed him immediately and turned back to you.
“I'm not sure it's because of that. Don't worry that pretty little head of yours. I highly doubt he'd break down over something like this.”
You frowned. The glare you sent him was enough.
He immediately sighed and held up both hands. “Right. Sorry. That was insensitive.”
A pause.
“But that doesn't change the fact that I don't think he fainted because of the divorce. I think he was already at his breaking point.”
“So no one's going to tell me what's actually happening right now?”
Both of you ignored Mingyu again.
“Has anything odd happened lately?” you asked. “Other than the headaches.”
Jeonghan shook his head. “Not really. But what I can tell you is that he needs a break this time.”
Mingyu's eyes widened. “A break? Then I'll need to clear his schedule and move the planning meetings—”
Jeonghan immediately cut him off.
“What's done is done. Starting today, he's taking at least a week off. Tell him that.”
Just as you were about to continue questioning them, Jeonghan grabbed your shoulder and pulled you slightly aside.
“By the way,” he lowered his voice, “I found these in his desk drawer.”
You blinked and looked down at the small container resting in his palm.
Sleeping pills.
“Hey now—are you guys keeping secrets from me?” Mingyu complained while trying to peek. “I'm hurt.”
You quickly took the bottle before he could get a better look.
“Thank you for letting me know, Mr. Yoon.”
You gave him a small nod which Jeonghan mirrored it.
The brief exchange said enough. After all, he'd been working with Seungcheol long enough to notice when something wasn't right.
Something has definitely been going on lately.
Seungcheol did take a day off from work today. You told him the divorce settlement could wait until he fully recovered. You made sure he went through a proper medical checkup. Your personal doctor even came to the house.
Turns out, he was perfectly fine.
No issues with his blood pressure. His liver and gut health were normal, though the doctor did advise him to refrain from consuming alcohol for the time being.
For someone who claimed to want a divorce as soon as possible, you seemed awfully eager to take care of him.
Your movements halted in the middle of chopping carrots as you let out a sigh.
What did you actually want at this point? Was it guilt? Or were you still unsure whether divorce was truly the answer to your happiness?
One thing was certain—you were putting him first again.
You knew you had no obligation to do any of this. With everything hanging in the air and a divorce looming over both of your heads, you could've simply hired a private chef, or a housekeeper.
Yet you insisted on taking care of him personally.
It was definitely muscle memory. A habit that you thought you had already broken. Somehow, you found yourself back in the same position again.
Maybe you needed to stop trying to figure everything out on your own. Sometimes the answer arrived when you least expected it. Unfortunately, patience was never one of your strengths.
Seungcheol has always been an enigma to you.
But even the most mysterious person eventually cracks when someone keeps poking at the wrong places.
Which you did, constantly and apparently, annoying him was therapeutic for you.
Frowning, you stepped back from the steaming pot and turned off the stove.
It was almost eleven in the morning. Your husband still hadn't woken up. You had made sure he didn't take another sleeping pill.
While sorting through the unopened mail earlier, you noticed an envelope addressed specifically to him.
A medical document.
You hadn't meant to snoop. But once you saw it was from Diamond Medical Centre, curiosity got the better of you. According to the records, he'd been registered as a patient there nearly four years ago.
Panic disorder.
Anxiety attacks.
Insomnia.
The words stayed with you long after reading them.
His name was written right there. It also noted that he'd stopped attending his sessions shortly after. You ended up calling Jeonghan and asking him to look into it further.
Slowly pushing the bedroom door open, you peeked inside.
Seungcheol was still asleep.
You stepped in carefully, making sure not to wake him. It had been a while since you'd entered his room. Not since the two of you decided to sleep separately.
Looking at him now, you'd never seen him sleep this peacefully before. Almost as though he'd been desperately craving rest.
Was that why he took sleeping pills? You already knew he was sleep deprived. You'd always assumed it was because of work.
Now you wondered if sleeping itself had become difficult for him.
When did it start? Four years ago? Or even before your marriage?
You'd wait for Jeonghan to find out.
Carefully, you crouched beside the bed and stared at his sleeping face. It felt unfair that you would soon leave and never get to see this face every day again. Then again—what a waste of a pretty face.
If people thought you stayed in the marriage because your husband looked like he belonged on a magazine cover—
Well.
They wouldn't be entirely wrong. Unfortunately, a pretty face alone wasn't enough to keep a woman married.
Though Seungcheol was rich.
Anyway.
One thing you absolutely couldn't stand was snoring. And too bad, your husband was one of those people.
Oddly enough, he wasn't doing it today. You wondered if he was even breathing.
So, just like the other day, you leaned closer. This time placing your ear against his chest to check his heartbeat.
Before you realized it, his eyes fluttered open—directly staring at you. Unfortunately, your body reacted faster than your brain. You pressed your lips against his, remaining there for a second longer than necessary.
Seungcheol stayed completely still.
Judging by his reaction, he didn't seem affected by it in the slightest. Nor did he appear particularly horrified.
You slowly pulled away, trying to gather whatever dignity remained.
"What do you think you're doing?" His deep voice echoed through the room with those soulless eyes fixed directly on you.
You blinked, still way too close. "Uh...sleeping kiss?"
One of his eyebrows rose immediately.
"You looked like you weren't breathing in your sleep, so I thought a true love's kiss might wake you up."
Wow.
Nice save. But at what cost?
At this point, you might as well have read him a bedtime story.
Now fully awake, Seungcheol pushed himself up slightly and stared at you as if trying to determine whether he was still dreaming.
"I cooked earlier," you blurted out. "You should eat. It's almost lunchtime."
Immediately, you stood up and escaped the room before your embarrassment could kill you on the spot.
Honestly, you were digging your own grave. Who kissed their spouse in the middle of a divorce?
Suddenly, your phone buzzed. By the time you reached your room, you'd already accepted the call.
"Oh, hey. Did you find anything?"
"Yeah. Had to ask Wonwoo about it." Jeonghan chuckled softly. "He complained the whole time and accused me of interrogating him."
You waited quietly.
"Anyway, from what I found, Seungcheol was receiving treatment back then. But he eventually stopped showing up and kept skipping appointments."
You remained silent, letting him continue.
"I knew about the insomnia and panic attacks. I just didn't realize he'd been clinically diagnosed."
"You knew that?"
"I'm sorry, _____.” His voice softened. "I didn't know the full details. Aside from that, I think I know what might've caused it. For now, that's all I have. The doctor who treated him moved overseas years ago."
"It's okay," you assured him quietly. "You've already helped a lot. Let me know if you find anything else."
After the call ended, you sat at the edge of your bed.
Thinking.
Seungcheol rarely talked about his family. Not because they had bad blood.
At least not from what you'd seen.
After his father's death, however, everyone seemed to drift apart. You always respected the boundaries he never verbally established, yet the invisible line was always there. No matter how much you reached out, he never seemed ready—or willing to let anyone in. Not even his wife.
He was difficult. Very complicated. Infuriating.
And yet here you were, worrying about problems that technically had nothing to do with you anymore.
When you should've been packing your belongings and preparing for the divorce.
Was this really how someone behaved when they desperately wanted to end a seven-year marriage? You didn't understand yourself either.
There was only one person left you could ask. So you reached for the business card resting on your bedside table. Staring at the familiar name printed on it.
Then you dialed the number. Later, the line connected after a few rings.
"Hello?" A familiar voice answered.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?"
That night has come, and yet you can’t seem to sleep properly, always rolling around your bed, restless.
For the first time, you never feel so bothered by it. The thought of leaving him once and for all, you wondered if he will get sick even more after divorce.
You wouldn’t think you'll be able to live with that while he was in the dark, keeping himself from the world.
Yeah. You definitely feel that remorse of guilt, even though Jeonghan keeps assuring you that Seungcheol is not that type of person who would dwell like a damsel in distress. You could’ve described it properly but you had no sense of wisdom to correct it now.
How could you possibly leave him like that? He was once a person you could never live without, he’s all you have now.
Or maybe you still care for him deep inside.
Sitting up, you sigh as you reach out your phone. The time is currently 3:04 A.M. which you were supposed to be sleeping by now.
When you think about not sleeping, you think of him. Did he manage to sleep today? How long had he been depending on that pill?
This is awful.
You seriously need to get a grip. Getting off from the bed, you went towards his bedroom, peeking slightly to see if he was sleeping.
Your heart rate rose instantly, opened the door clearly this time just to see the empty bed there. It doesn’t look like he was taking a shower either, you were frantically walking down the stairs, searching for his presence around, the balcony, living area and kitchen.
Does that mean he went back to his office to work again even at this time? There’s no way he would do that. He always works at home too with his devices in his study room.
You tried to call him this time. Not less than three seconds, you heard the phone buzzing on the glass table beside you.
Slowly, you turned around, eyes landed on the phone.
A brief quiet silence filled the air. The paranoia started to kick in, you tried to be calm about it but with zero response and his whereabouts in this penthouse seems to be dreading you out.
Where could he possibly be right now?
You choose another way to find him this time, as you stepped out the building, the cold air hit you but your thoughts were filled with his wellbeing.
You didn’t say any of his cars were being used, it’s not like he’s the type to go outside to just merely get some fresh air.
You tried to think where else he would go late at this hour, your car slowed as you examined the whole surrounding. As you stopped by a nearby park, you saw a figure sitting up at the bench alone.
From the looks of it, the back of the head seemed to be like him alright. You shut the door, hurriedly went over the lightpole, where the light illuminated the only dark space there.
“Cheol!” you called him out, that nickname you haven’t used in a while.
His head turned at you, almost dumfounded as he stood up slowly.
You let out a heaving breath, it was cold and hot was bothering you. Glancing at his form, he was still in comfortable clothes which were probably thinner even if it was just a cardigan. You realized he was walking here barefoot, feet red and covered with blisters.
You frowned, face was already dead, worried as hold his arms then down his hands, trying to warm him up and feeling how cold his hands had been.
“Where have you been?” your voice trembled a little, “I searched for you all over—” You stopped yourself just enough when you noticed his face has been looking at you the entire time, like he doesn’t appear to be aware of what's really happening.
You slowly breathe, one hand holding his other cheek, “I’m sorry, just tell me where did you go? If you’re having a hard time, just let me know, okay?” your voice softens, “don’t go wandering around without your phone…”
He didn’t reply immediately, his eyes that were always sharp and stoic are now more soft and gentle this time. His hand covered yours, the first time after a while you were this close to him.
“I was waiting for you.” He simply said, looking at you.
Your heart momentarily stutters at that, searching if he was deceiving you.
“We were supposed to meet at the park today,” he continued, “You told me today that we were supposed to go to the aquarium.”
There’s a quiet silence filled the cold night.
“...Cheol, that was six years ago.” you muttered softly, looking at him with sad eyes.
And yet, he doesn’t look like he was playing around. He genuinely meant every word of it. The more he keeps looking at you like that, it hurts your heart because why did he look at you like he was still there, as if there's a spark of hope of him wanting you back.
On your way back home, the car ride was quiet. You didn’t press any further after that. Carefully tending to his injured feet, you cleaned and bandaged them properly. Given how quiet he was being, you didn’t question him as you looked up before organizing the first aid kit again.
He had been staring at you the whole time.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” you asked gently, setting the aid kit aside before standing up.
“Are you mad at me?”
That was what he asked instead.
Your movements halted for a moment as you slowly turned back to him, only to be met with those familiar soft eyes.
His gaze was almost docile.
Was this really the same stoic Seungcheol that everyone used to be intimidated by?
You placed the kit aside and sat back down beside him. “No... I’m not mad at you. What makes you think that?”
Seungcheol just looked at you. Really looked at you.
“It’s just... you looked like you were crying because of me. Did I do something that upset you?”
Your breath hitched at that, trying to swallow down the lump burning in your throat. Exhaling slowly, you reached for his hand, testing the waters first before actually holding it.
“No... I was just...” you hesitated, uncertain of what to say in this situation because he genuinely looked just as confused as you were. “...let’s get some rest, okay? You’ve had a long day.”
When you were about to stand up, he didn’t let go of your hand.
You glanced down at him. “I’ll be in my room if you need me,” you assured him softly.
“Why?” He frowned slightly. “I thought we were sleeping in the same room.”
He looked genuinely hurt by that. And by the looks of it, almost like a puppy that had been left out in the rain.
Now it was your turn to be confused. The entire situation felt like it was playing tricks on you.
Because why?
Why did he look at you like he still cared about you? Like he needed you the moment your hand slipped from his. Like the thought of you leaving was something he couldn’t understand.
“I hope you had a wonderful weekend, Seungcheol,” the voice echoed through the quiet, almost peaceful room. “Could you share with me how you've been feeling these days?”
“I did. And I’ve been feeling happier because I get to spend my whole day with my wife. She always smiles a lot when she’s with me.”
“That’s good to hear.” The man offered a small smile. “Now, can you tell me if anything unusual has happened?”
Seungcheol hummed, nodding slightly. “I had a dream. A really bad dream, doctor.”
The man leaned forward, listening intently.
“Is that so? Could you describe what kind of dream you were having?”
“There was a man. He looked like me, and in that dream...” he continued, almost as if he were retelling a story, “...he was different from me. Always alone, and as if people were afraid of him. I don’t like that person who looks like me in that dream.”
“Why is that, Seungcheol?”
“Because...” he hesitated. “Whenever I see him in my dream, my wife always cries because of me.”
A brief silence settled between them before Seungcheol continued.
“But doctor, my name is not Seungcheol,” he stated. “My wife always calls me Cheol. I don’t know why you keep referring to me by that name.”
“This might be confusing for you, but Seungcheol and Cheol are the same person.”
“What?”
Joshua let out a slow breath.
“In psychiatry, what you're experiencing is called Dissociative Identity Disorder,” he explained. “It’s commonly known as multiple personality disorder. The symptoms you're experiencing right now fit the criteria.”
Seungcheol simply stared at him. But the one sitting in front of him now was Cheol.
Not Seungcheol.
“You see, Seungcheol and Cheol are the same person,” Joshua continued. “And the person sitting in front of me is still Seungcheol, even when you tell me that you're ‘Cheol’ today.”
“But... that’s impossible. That’s not me...” he insisted.
Joshua opened his tablet and showed him a profile. Choi Seungcheol, part of the Diamonds Group—CEO of a financial institution.
Seungcheol looked unconvinced as he slowly examined the information displayed on the screen. It felt like he was looking at a complete stranger.
“Remember this,” Joshua continued gently. “Seungcheol and Cheol are one person.”
He paused in between.
“And we're here to find out what caused this trigger in the first place.”
TBC.
a/n: ayeee, how are we feeling for this prologue? let me know how it goes, feedback, comment, reblogs are appreciated.
omg this is so good ⁉️⁉️ i keep chuckling reading the characters dynamic (poor mingyu) but i didn't expect the plot would be this heavy??? I LOVE IT SO MUCH IM DEFINITELY SAT TO READ THE STORY 🧘🏼♀️👀
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summary — what happens after you’ve slept with your boyfriend and your ex-boyfriend?
wc — 1.5k
warnings — nsfw. minors dni. smut, pure filth, threesome, double vaginal penetration, size kink, creampie, polyamory, a little surprise at the end ;)
author’s note — this is so short and i’m sorry but i just wanted u guys to have this while i work on the next gyucheol wip which will be a little longer! i think i’m going to make this its own little universe hehe
this is set in the same universe as ‘byob (bring your own boyfriend)’. it is recommended that you read that first as this fic is a continuation of the plot :)
You, Mingyu, and Seungcheol can’t keep your hands off each other.
After that night where they had both ended up in your bed, there were no doubts in you or Mingyu’s minds that you didn’t just want Seungcheol to be an occasional guest; that you wanted him to be part of things forever. There was no denying the chemistry between all three of you anyway, let alone the love that you had for both of them. Choosing one or the other was not an option.
A few days later, you and Mingyu had invited Seungcheol over to talk— to lay everything out on the table. He took some time to think about it, which was understandable. Three-person relationships weren’t something you could jump into. The fact of the matter, however, was that he still loved you too, and he liked Mingyu, and so he showed up again two days later, and two became three.
Since then, the three of you have been going at it like rabbits.
The night had started messy, the way it usually does. The three of you made out for what felt like hours, going back and forth: you with Seungcheol, Seungcheol with Mingyu, Mingyu with you, all in a sloppy exchange of tongues and lips and spit, until someone (you) grew needy enough to snap. Clothes were shed, necks were bitten and marked.
You took Mingyu's cock in your mouth while he took Seungcheol's in his, but that didn't last very long. They're givers, of course, always putting your pleasure first before their own, always doing whatever it took to make you happy, however today they were just too hungry.
That's how you ended up here: your nails are buried in the skin of Seungcheol's toned back, your arms draped over his shoulders as his biceps keep you upright against his warm, damp chest and his fat cock drives in and out of you so ruthlessly that you're losing touch with reality. Behind you, Mingyu's hands squeeze at your thighs, your ass, your hips, all while his own thick length fucks in and out of you in rhythm with Seungcheol's.
You're being handled in every which way, bounced up and down like a mere ragdoll as your men use you to their pleasure. Selfish for once, submitting to their deepest primal desires. You let them. Of course you do. You take pride in the way the tight grip of your cunt makes them toe the line of their self-control.
They grunt and groan, their breaths hot against your skin, their voices blending together in a heavy, crude melody. Their balls smack against you with each thrust, and it's so vigorous that it sends fluids splashing and dripping to the floor.
It should be too much. They're challenging enough to take on their own, but they'd managed to stuff both of their girths inside your poor, weeping pussy (with an unbelievable amount of lube, of course), and the stretch was almost enough to make you pass out at first. It took you a while, but with the help of your boyfriends' soft, cooed praises, the sting of being borderline ripped apart had blurred into a deep fullness unlike anything you had ever felt before.
Now you're on the verge of both climax and insanity while your boyfriends stand up with you in their arms, treating you like a mere fleshlight.
"Doing so good for us, aren't you, princess?" comes Seungcheol's voice, hoarse and a little out of breath, his teeth slightly gritted. He knows how it affects you when he talks to you— when Mingyu does, too— keeping you grounded when he prompts you to reply, yet simultaneously coaxing you closer to your orgasm. "How does it feel?"
"S-so fucking full," you manage in a whimper. It's a wonder how you can still speak, your head empty with nothing but the thought of cock.
"But it feels good, right, baby?" Mingyu rasps behind you, mouthing at your neck with those fangs you love so much, his hands squeezing at your thighs.
"Yes!" you cry, your head falling back against Mingyu's shoulder. "I love it."
"Good girl," Seungcheol groans, bouncing you up and down with a little more vigour now. "Gyu, you close?"
"Been close the whole time, hyung," Mingyu replies, his voice strained with what you now recognise as discipline. "My boyfriend's cock rubbing against mine inside our tight little girlfriend… I almost busted immediately."
Seungcheol barks out a breathless laugh while you whine, your cunt clenching around them both at the picture Mingyu paints.
"Please do it… Want all of it," you pant, reaching your hand backwards to grab Mingyu's neck, pulling his mouth to yours in a hard, sloppy kiss. It's hard to not get lost in the taste of him, your tongues tangling in a wet, hot dance while Seungcheol groans at the sight.
"You want our cum, baby?" he rasps, his hand reaching for your face, pulling you away from Mingyu with a firm hand forcing you to stare at him. There's still a lingering jealousy in his actions sometimes. You expected it— Choi Seungcheol is possessive to his core. Though it's not like you and Mingyu are all that innocent either.
"So fucking bad," you cry, your words slurring together now.
"Cum for us first, pretty girl, then we'll give you what you want, yeah?" Seungcheol says. How chivalrous.
You give a weak whimper, neither in protest or agreement, while Mingyu moans out: "hyung… I don't know if I can hold out."
"Yeah, you can," Seungcheol coos with soft encouragement in his voice, but there's a glimmer of something a little darker in it— a flash of the authoritativeness that lives deep inside in him— and that's all it takes to quell Mingyu's argument.
The younger man bites down on his bottom lip hard, channelling every drop of discipline he's ever learned into staving off his orgasm. He tries not to think about how fucking tight it is, shifts all of his focus to grinding his cock against that sweet spot that'll have you falling apart as soon as possible.
It only takes another few moments, of course, as the deep fullness of having your pussy stuffed with two cocks becomes too much to handle and your orgasm comes hurtling towards you. You cry out, loud and depraved, curses spilling from your lips as your body becomes utterly taut with white hot pleasure.
Seungcheol and Mingyu hold you in their arms as you fall apart, their hips hardly letting up their relentless, animalistic thrusts, your walls clamping down around them so harshly that it's impossible for them not to cum right after.
And Mingyu is always a little louder when he cums, more whiny and depraved. Seungcheol whines too, only he's a little more reserved, but not out of timidness. Rather, he is usually too breathless. He runs out of stamina quicker. Doesn't have the energy to moan by the time he's finishing, too spent and exhausted from the weight of giving.
They fill you up until you're thoroughly, positively stuffed. Until it oozes out and ruins the sheets below, but even then, your men only watch, grinning like insatiably hungry dogs.
Your period is late. It shouldn't be late. It's never late.
It's just stress, you tell yourself. You're not eating right. Maybe you got your menopause early.
It wouldn't hurt to check though, you think. Just in case, right?
Mingyu and Seungcheol are at the gym together, so you tuck yourself away in the bathroom, and you wait. You're too anxious to look away from the stick as you wait, recalling every time you had taken your pill, assuring yourself that you're far too meticulous and careful to slip up.
Your boyfriends come home right as you let yourself relax with a sigh because you're right— there's only one line.
What you don't expect is for them to burst into the bathroom, glossy with sweat, looking pumped up in their matching tight shirts, and wearing matching little devious grins.
"Hi, baby," says Seungcheol. "We were hoping you'd shower with us."
Mingyu spots it on the counter first, but he's always been a little more attentive.
"What's that?" he asks, as if he doesn't know.
You scramble to hold it up to them. "It's false!" you insist, stifling a laugh as they blink almost simultaneously. "My period was late, so I did it just in case."
Mingyu's brows furrow as he takes the stick from your hand and holds it up close to his eyes. You want to remind him that you've… peed on it, but then he speaks. "There are two lines."
"Gyu, you're seeing things," you say, rolling your eyes as you grab it back out of his hand and look at it again, a little closer this time, and your heart drops to the floor.
thank you for reading! feedback, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated :)
PAIRING — seungcheol + mingyu + jeonghan x fem!reader
WORD COUNT — 20k
SYNOPSIS — murder, bribery and extortion: all crimes your family is rumored to have committed. when you and your relatives suddenly have to deal with the mysterious death of one of your own, choi seungcheol — a newly transferred detective — seizes the opportunity to find the truth behind your family’s notorious reputation. it’s only once he’s too far into the twisted rabbit hole that he realizes there might be no way back.
TAGS — dark content (stepcest, extremely heavy incestuous undertones, death), explicit sexual content, dad is playing chess and his kids are the pieces, something about the apple being rotten right to the core, overly detailed psychoanalysis, angst! sex!! tragedy!!!
NOTE ✧˖° yeahhh i went a little crazy w this one. heavily influenced by the borgias (2011). mingyu and jeonghan are blood-related brothers in this, mc is their stepsister but they all consider and treat eachother as full siblings. don’t like don’t read.
♫ — dealer by lana del rey ✧ apple by charli xcx ✧ inbred by ethel cain ✧ birthday theme (out of tune) by victor butzelaar ✧ you and whose army? by radiohead ✧ house by charli xcx and john cale
── 01. THE OUTSIDER
𝓞N A RAINY MONDAY MORNING IN SEPTEMBER, seungcheol walks into the tall building belonging to the department of public safety, holding a white umbrella above his head.
instead of scanning a keycard like everyone else, he walks up to the woman at the front desk. “hi, it’s my first day on the job. i was told to ask for a mr. chwe?”
“sure. can i have your name, please?”
“choi seungcheol.”
she types away at the computer in front of her, nodding once she’s confirmed it in the system. standing up, she allows him to pass through the electronic gates, gesturing to the elevators. “head up to the 13th floor, mr. chwe will meet you there.”
“thank you,” he says, pressing the button with the number thirteen on it.
as soon as he arrives on the highest floor in the building, he’s greeted by a surprisingly young man with clearly dyed ash-blond hair and a somewhat dead expression on his face.
“good to meet you, mr. choi. i’m hansol chwe. the chief of the department is out today so you’ll meet him later this week. for at least the next couple months, i’ll be your supervisor.”
“great,” cheol responds, and hansol gives him a tour of the floor, showing him around, eventually ending up in the office that apparently belongs to him.
as seungcheol shrugs off his raincoat to put it over his chair, hansol sits down in front of him. “your first assignment was changed last minute, and it’s scheduled for this afternoon.”
hansol hands him a dark blue folder, subtly checking if anyone’s within earshot outside the glass doors of cheol’s office, much to the latter’s surprise. “is it classified?”
“in a way,” hansol replies, and cheol opens the folder, met with a name he recognizes.
“the kim family?”
“you’ve heard of ‘em, right?”
“yeah. i’d be living under a rock if i didn’t. don’t know much about them individually, though.”
hansol begins his explanation, pointing at the photo of an older man. “their father, youngwoo, owns more than half of the top businesses of the country, not to mention his global enterprises. he’s intimidating, but not unapproachable. you watch one of his public interviews and it’s glaringly obvious he knows he’s always the smartest man in the room.”
“didn’t his wife die, like, years ago?” cheol asks, recalling how the nation mourned the woman as if the people lost a saint.
“in 2007, yeah,” he nods, switching to a photo of four considerably younger people. “their kids are a noteworthy case — one of them, joshua, was found dead in his apartment last week.”
“i saw it on the news. they haven’t disclosed a cause of death yet, right?”
“nope. the authorities don’t know if the guy was murdered, even though most of the signs point to it, but the family didn’t want an autopsy to be done.”
an interesting choice, considering a family member was possibly killed. why would they not choose to have an autopsy done?
more importantly, “but if it’s ordered by the medical examiner, they shouldn’t have a say in it.”
hansol clicks his tongue. “these people do.”
seungcheol takes a look at the remaining kids in the photo. one daughter, two sons. all in their twenties, each with their own set of empty, cold eyes.
“you haven’t told me what the assignment is yet,” he says, and hansol lowers his voice.
“an informant involved in another investigation claimed the kim family had something to do with a brutal murder just outside the country border. something about honor and revenge,” he explains. “me and a few colleagues, along with the chief, want to dismantle them by taking their crimes public. but to do that, we need solid evidence, and the only way to get it is if we can get closer to them somehow.”
“and how do we do that?”
“the one that died, joshua, is set to be buried today. you need to attend the funeral. offer your condolences on behalf of the department. see what the circumstances are and report back after.”
cheol frowns. “just out of curiosity, why me and not someone who’s worked here longer?”
it elicits a stressed sigh from his supervisor. “normally, the chief would handle things like these, but he insisted on someone else handling it this time around. why, i have no idea. regardless, the chief chose you, since there’s rumors of some people who work here being on the family’s payroll, and you’re new. and capable, i assume.”
there’s a bigger gravity to this situation than he thought. the family is known to every person in the country, and the majority of the public speaks of them as if they’re gods living amongst mortals, though there’s also a select group of people that believes them to have ties to the criminal underworld.
seungcheol is aware that the family has great influence in society, but hearing it is apparently this serious, he begins to wonder how deep it runs.
“okay. i’ll go to the funeral. am i supposed to be looking for something in particular?”
“no, just... be careful. don’t give them the idea anything’s wrong. whatever you do, do not upset them,” hansol says with urgency in his voice.
cheol nods hesitantly. “alright. when do i leave?”
about three hours later, he’s driving up to the front gate of the estate that belongs to the family. he’s met with several armed, tough-looking men staring him down as if they suspect him of something.
they ask him for his name and identification, only letting him pass once they’ve found and crossed his name off the list.
the doors to the massive house itself are guarded as well. the funeral takes place in an old chapel, which happens to be located on their property, overlooking the city from the top of the hill.
the ceremony feels ominously depressing. with only a few candles lit inside the chapel, the rain still pouring outside, the sizeable golden cross behind the open casket reflecting the only bits of light in the dark hall — it makes him uncomfortable.
it makes him feel like he shouldn’t be here.
once the ceremony is over and people are standing in the garden outside, chattering in small groups as if it were a regular business occasion, seungcheol squints while observing the people he’s heard so much about from afar. from a safe distance, they seem like your regular wealthy, stuck-up trust fund kids, but even he can tell there’s more to them than meets the eye.
a daughter and two sons, if he remembers hansol’s words correctly. he recognizes them from the photo in the folder — you, mingyu, and jeonghan. all of you barely ever speak to the press, but there’s plenty of paparazzi photos of you on the internet.
it’s hard to say if any of the rumors are true, though seungcheol is convinced some of them have to be. your family has a terrifying amount of influence over the country, he realizes, with at least one person installed in every branch of society.
the one they’re burying today, joshua, was a man high up in the catholic church. jeonghan is active in politics and has ties with the government. your father brings the most money to the table as a private equity investor, you’re a philanthropist and patron of sciences and technology, and mingyu is in education, art and culture.
seungcheol has to admit — it’s a smart strategy.
and he can’t help but wonder what goes on behind that tall front door when no one’s looking.
for some reason, his eyes settle on you. you’re wearing a black midi dress with long sleeves, a thin see-through mourning veil secured in your perfectly done hair, almost no emotion to be detected on your face.
only the tears silently rolling down your cheeks prove a different story. you’re standing between your two brothers, eventually choosing to lay your head on mingyu’s shoulder, who rubs at your back in an attempt to comfort you. jeonghan can only glance at you from the corner of his eye, wishing you would turn to him for comfort instead.
as always, it’s his father who ends up putting a hand on his shoulder.
out of the four of you, jeonghan is the oldest. the firstborn. calculating, distant, always carrying that attitude of being the smartest guy in the room. exceedingly manipulative, though to be fair, that’s a trait all of you share.
joshua was older than you but younger than jeonghan. you were close with him — he had the most humanity out of your brothers, and carried a more lighthearted attitude compared to the rest of the family.
you may not share blood with them, but you’ve been raised together from such a young age that you can’t remember what it’s like to be an only child. they were the sons from your stepmother’s previous marriage, but with their biological father out of the picture relatively quickly and your father stepping up, you became a true family in no-time.
it’s mingyu, the family’s youngest, who ended up being your favorite. always so capable, willing to help, not as emotionally closed off as jeonghan is.
a fatal flaw your brothers have shared since the day you met them is envy. your father put each of his children in a different branch of society to ensure the family would have maximum influence — without any of you having a say in the career path your father laid out for you.
jeonghan, as the eldest son of the family, has always gotten more of your father’s trust and respect than the rest of the siblings, leading to mingyu being openly jealous of his older brother. in turn, jeonghan desperately wants to be closer to you the way mingyu is, but he doesn’t know how, and it’s been causing a certain rift between them over the course of the past years that only seems to be getting bigger.
and now, with joshua gone, the massive house you all live in feels colder. lacking in something.
in the crowd of people having a drink after the funeral, mingyu’s dark gaze is fixed on you. as it often is.
he’s taking a sip of his drink when his brother walks up to him, a hand on his broad shoulder. “how you holding up?”
jeonghan may not be as tall as he is, but his personality is enough to outshine him — most of the time, anyway. “i’m fine. i wish all these people would leave.”
“i can ask dad to cut things short.”
mingyu snorts. “and miss out on all the sympathy points he’s gaining today? he’d never.”
it’s a fair point.
“joshua would’ve hated this. his funeral being attended by people he doesn’t know. people who didn’t know him. not really,” jeonghan sighs, subtly scanning the crowd around him.
“who even really knew him? aside from us three, and dad.”
“sounds fucking bleak when you say it like that.”
“it’s the truth.”
their eyes both find you looking out over the city, arms crossed over your chest. mingyu’s tone turns softer when he speaks of you, “she’s a wreck.”
jeonghan nods. “i tried to give her breakfast this morning. she would barely eat.”
“we should just… give her some time.” his younger brother shrugs, gesturing at someone else. “that guy’s been looking her up and down since he got here. i don’t like it.”
“never seen him before. if he got in, he was on the list.”
“i’ll go and talk to security, see if they remember his name.”
mingyu walks off, hoping to clear his mind, but jeonghan remains in his spot, observing his man of interest from where he’s standing.
seungcheol remembers what hansol advised him. don’t draw unnecessary attention. these people are our enemies, even if they don’t act like it.
he thinks striking up a conversation with you might cost him the job he’s only just gotten, but something tells him to do it anyway.
as you’re getting a glass of water, you’re approached by a man in a dark suit. he’s been eyeing you for quite some time, as you’ve noticed.
your voice is hoarse from crying earlier. “can i help you?”
“choi seungcheol. i’m a detective for public safety,” he introduces himself, extending his hand to you, “i came to give condolences on behalf of the department.”
you look him up and down with such judgement in your features that he retracts his hand, as you clearly don’t seem willing to introduce yourself. he’s good-looking, you’ll admit, but you can’t find it in you to care.
“did you? so first your chief fails to give our family the requested protection, and now that my brother is dead, he has the nerve to send one of his workers to save face?”
well, that’s new information.
he wants to convince you that whatever you’re thinking is not the case, but to be honest, he doesn’t even know if it is. all he knows about this case is what hansol told him this morning.
apologetically, he lowers his head. “i’m a recent transfer. any business you have with the chief is unknown to me.”
with a mocking nod of your head, you scoff. “i’m sure. you should leave and tell your boss we know what he did — then go on ahead and fuck off to whatever hole you crawled out of.”
jeonghan walks up to you from behind, his hands finding your waist. “what’s going on, sis?”
“nothing.” you shake your head as tears form on your waterline, anger rising in your features. “just make sure security escorts him out. he’s got no reason to be here.”
“no need. i’ll see myself out,” seungcheol says, feeling so unwanted that it irks him. the comment earns a glare from both you and your brother, and he instantly feels a sense of relief once he’s returned to the other side of the front gate, only to be left wondering if he screwed up his job on the first day within a single conversation.
frankly, he’s a little shocked. not just by your hostility — it certainly wouldn’t be the first time someone was lashing out at a funeral — but by the look you gave him.
holding your head high in mourning is a rare thing, and your entire family does it remarkably easily. but fuck, you looked at him as if he were beneath you. like some ant that should be thankful to be squashed under the weight of your boot. he’s never had someone look at him like that, let alone be so transparent about it.
seungcheol has yet to understand that attitude is something that’s been hammered into your skull.
you and your brothers were raised to be like this. spoiled from the moment you opened your eyes, bathed in wealth and influence, unaware that your paths in life were already determined for you.
how could anyone expect you to be any different?
hours later, when the sun has gone down and everyone has left, you’re the only one left in the chapel. it was built hundreds of years ago, slowly crumbling bit by bit as the stone ages.
with the veil discarded on the floor and some mascara under your eyes, you stare at the cross in front of you with nothing but emptiness.
“you shouldn’t be alone at a time like this,” you hear your father approaching the bench you’re sitting on. “your brothers need you.”
you shrug. “i know. i just wanna be by myself right now.”
but you should know, after all these years, that your wishes are simply not as important as the family.
“my lovely daughter,” he says as he sits down next to you, and you raise a brow. “how have you been holding up?”
“what do you want from me?”
it elicits a scoff from him. “am i not allowed to ask how you’re feeling?”
“you’re using that tone that tells me you’re about to ask me something.”
“how observant of you.” with a sigh, he lets himself relax on the wooden bench. “you spoke to a detective at joshua’s funeral.”
that has you frowning at him. “how do you know that?”
“your brother told me.”
he doesn’t even need to say mingyu’s name for you to know it was him. always trying to please dad — even if it means ratting you out.
even your favorite brother has his flaws.
“yeah, i did.” you can only shrug. “he came to offer his condolences.”
“and what did you tell him?”
“i told him we don’t like it when outsiders try to stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.”
he sighs. “as much as i agree, you know we need the favor of the public.”
“yes, dad, but what good is that favor if it doesn’t give us anything back? we asked for their support and they weren’t willing to give it.”
“we need to give some people the time to trust us, or at the very least realize that siding with us is in their best interest. in very few cases, we meet someone who fails to realize that. and what do we do in such cases?”
knowing the phrase by heart, it rolls from your tongue like a robot repeating its singular line. “we replace them.”
your father has that hint of a smile on his face that he typically only wears during moments like these; moments in which he realizes he’s programmed his children to think like him. that his family is a united front.
“you’re right. the chief has failed us — he has for quite some time. so we should get a new one. luckily, there’s a candidate that seems to have almost all the requirements.”
handing you a document, you scan it briefly, noticing that it’s some intel a private investigator formed on the detective in question.
your father puts his hand on your shoulder. “he’s only a few years older than you. an impressive resumé, and he seemed charmed by you, despite the fact that you lashed out at him.”
“he started last week. everyone’s gonna think it’s strange if he gets this promotion. and how are you so sure this man will bend to our will?”
it’s quiet for a second.
“use that charm of yours, hm?”
with a blank stare, you look him in the eye. your eye twitches once you realize what he’s getting at. “no.”
“darling—” he tries, but you interrupt him.
“dad, we just… i just buried my brother. i’m grieving. the last thing i want is to spend my time being sweet on some guy i don’t even know.”
“i know. i know that.” he wipes away the tear rolling down your cheek. “but they are onto us. i’d never ask this of you under these circumstances if i didn’t think the situation was dire.”
i don’t want to do this. i don’t want to do this, you want to scream at him. nothing comes out.
your father is not cold. not mean. not without heart. it’d be much easier to hate him if he was. perhaps you could hate him if you didn’t find yourself and your brothers reflected in his eyes.
and your father is, above all else, ambitious. he doesn’t stop until he has what he wants.
so you swallow the lump in your throat, and you nod in agreement. “fine. i’ll do it.”
── 02. ALL ABOUT MY BROTHER
WHEN SEUNGCHEOL RETURNS TO THE NEWLY FAMILIAR BUILDING THE NEXT DAY, he feels too many eyes on him.
the woman at the ground floor desk greets him with an anxious smile. when he gets into the elevator, the people standing in it with him look like they want to get out as soon as possible.
hansol is waiting for him at the entrance on the 13th floor again — and when even he seems stressed out, seungcheol gets seriously worried.
the younger man almost forcibly pulls him along to a spot where no one can hear them. “what the hell did you do yesterday?”
“i—what? i went to the funeral, just like you asked, and then i went back home. i have the report in my bag—”
“yes, but what did you say at the funeral? what happened?”
“what are you talking about? what’s going on?”
the color drains from hansol’s cheeks as he suddenly seems focused on whatever’s behind him, so seungcheol turns around, only to be met with the sight of you.
dark trousers, a black turtleneck and a long coat that reaches below the knees. seungcheol’s eyes briefly catch your cross necklace before meeting your gaze.
“haven’t you heard? you got promoted,” you say, and he notices how your presence has seemingly caused the few people sitting at their desks to get up and go elsewhere.
he repeats the word with much less confidence than you. “promoted?”
“didn’t you inform him, hansol? being chief of the department is a big deal,” you emphasize. seungcheol exchanges a look with his colleague before turning to you again.
“wait—what? me? i just started here. why—”
hansol subtly pinches his arm as if to tell him to stop asking you questions. you still notice the gesture, forcing yourself not to smile at it. “great, right? your new office is twice the size of the one you used to have. yesterday.”
seungcheol is unsure what he’s expected to say here. “thank you?”
“people would kill for this position. aren’t you happy?” you question with a subtly threatening edge to your tone.
“he’s—very happy,” hansol cuts in before cheol can give his actual thoughts, and you nod.
“good. in that case, i’d like to talk to the new chief in private.”
hansol clears his throat, exchanging a last look with you before leaving seungcheol in your hands. “of course.”
you gesture to his new office, and he follows your lead, feeling entirely out of control when you both sit at the desk, across from one another.
before you can even get a word in, he’s already speaking up, refusing to beat around the bush. “why did you make me chief?”
you reply with narrowed eyes. “i didn’t make you anything. the former chief was supposed to be fired a while ago already, and based on your resumé, we thought you’d be a great fit.”
he doesn’t know who we is referring to here, nor why this is any of your business at all, but he goes along with it. “so... i’m assuming you want something from me.”
you’re not used to people being so straightforward with you, but you don’t dislike the change. “well, i’m sure you’ll be more accomodating to my family’s needs than the former chief.”
“... right.” whatever that means.
“great. anyway, to make up for the way i judged you at my brother’s funeral, i’d like to offer my apologies over dinner, tonight. purely business, of course.”
“i’m not so sure i—” he begins, but chooses to swallow his words when he catches your piercing gaze at the first words of rejection, “okay. why not, i guess.”
“i’ll have my assistant send you an itinerary,” you nod, immediately much more cheerful. “see you tonight.”
with a last charming smile, you exit his office, and seungcheol watches how every employee you pass averts their eyes from you.
he’s still processing what happened when hansol enters the office that apparently now belongs to him, swiftly shutting the door so they can talk in private. “so, i ask again — what the fuck happened at that funeral?”
“nothing!”
“then why the hell did you just get promoted? i sent you ‘cause i thought you were the one guy not on their payroll.”
“i’m—i am not on their payroll. if anything, i thought i upset her at the funeral. she lashed out at me, said something about the former chief failing to protect them, and i told her i didn’t know anything about it. now i show up to work next day and suddenly i’m in charge?”
hansol seems to believe the explanation, putting his hands on his hips with an exhausted sigh. “that woman terrifies me.”
“yeah, i noticed. is that why everyone’s looking at me weird?”
“news travels fast around here. i don’t even know how the information got out. look, whatever you do — you need to keep her as your ally.”
“and if i don’t?”
“then you’ll be ruined. she and that entire family of hers is straight poison.”
“bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
“try telling that to all the others who have mysteriously disappeared after failing them,” hansol warns him, moving out of the office, and cheol is left with nothing but his thoughts as he sits at the unfamiliar desk with his nameplate sitting on it.
surely he can survive a few hours in your company.
the same evening, seungcheol finds himself sitting across from you once more, in a restaurant of which the prices on the menu are well above his paygrade.
yeah, he thinks you look pretty in that little black dress of yours. the small pearl earrings are an elegant touch, the soft smokey eye on your lids is gorgeous on you, and like any man, he found himself a bit intimidated by the red bottoms of your stiletto heels.
truth be told, he didn’t think he was going to enjoy himself tonight, but he finds he’s been proven wrong. you’re kind to him, a sweet smile plastered onto your face, your comments as sharp as he’s come to know you are — but with some jokes in there this time. for what it’s worth, you actually seem interested in him, and in a way he himself doesn’t quite understand, he thinks you’re fascinating.
even if his body language doesn’t give it away, he finds himself drawn to you like a sailor to a siren. what is it that has people desiring you and fearing you all at the same time?
at a certain point, after discussing how he ended up here in the city, you touch the subject of his childhood.
“i only had my mother growing up. she worked two jobs to take care of me,” he elaborates when you ask about his family.
“she must be proud to see you now, then. especially with your new job.”
“yeah. i don’t feel like i’ve thanked you properly for the opportunity.”
“you’ll have plenty of time to repay it.”
seungcheol pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “do i have permission to speak freely?”
tilting your head, you say, “sure.”
“at the funeral, you said the former chief failed to give you protection. what was that about?”
he watches you clench your jaw at the question. “our family has always felt a certain… rivalry with other families in our circle. we know our status, they know theirs, but some of them have been wanting to alter the hierarchy for years. we funded the former chief to keep an eye on them, just to be sure we wouldn’t be met with any surprises. he assured us that hiring private security was unnecessary, and he sent quite a few of his men to watch over us, but someone still managed to slip through, and… kill my brother.”
refraining from speaking, he looks at you. you’re the most authentic whenever you speak about your family, he’s noticed, and he feels for you.
“i’m really sorry for your loss.”
you nod as a way of thanking him, looking at your half-empty glass of wine.
“do you have any idea how many people have told me that in the past week? i’ve lost count. though i could probably count those who meant it on one hand.”
seungcheol tries to nuance it. “surely not everyone wanted him gone.”
“you underestimate how ruthless these people are. god, just the smear campaigns they tried to force down everyone’s throats is evidence enough.”
“what did they say about you?”
you huff when you remember some of it. “it was all bullshit. all boiled down to the same thing — that our family is poison. a cancer that needs to be eradicated from the face of the earth.”
it makes him think of hansol’s words earlier today. he wonders how much of the things people are saying about you and your family is true. what if it is? or perhaps more importantly, what if it isn’t?
he looks at his empty plate, trying to think of the right way to proceed.
“is there… anyone in particular you suspect to have played a part in your brother’s death? from those families?” he asks, hoping to show he’s ready to help you. “perhaps i can look into it.”
you register the offer, but shake your head, refusing it. “i might as well name every single one of them. they all want us gone.”
“what about someone closer to you? people you trust, like a friend? not to make you paranoid or anything, but…”
“i don’t trust my friends,” you say without skipping a beat, not missing the surprise he so bluntly displays. “it’s better not to in a position like mine.”
“that sounds like a stressful way to live. only being able to trust yourself.”
“i trust my family. everyone outside of it can pose a threat,” you shrug at the statement as if it were a normal way of thinking. “my brothers are all that i have. which is why you can understand how eager i am to discover the truth behind joshua’s death.”
seungcheol thinks about your family, the way they all acted at the funeral. you all seem close in a way he’s never seen before, and he supposes he does somewhat understand why your circle is so restricted — but something about it doesn’t sit right with him.
“of course,” he agrees. “i’ll get some people on the investigation. if we discover anything, you’ll be the first to know.”
“i appreciate it.” you smile back at him, spirits lifted. “another glass of wine, then?”
it takes another two hours before you and seungcheol part ways. as the tall front doors are shut behind you, you take off your heels, finally able to feel the comfort of being back home.
the mansion is rather old — as can be derived from the gothic architecture, its pointed arches, high ceilings, flying buttresses, rib vaults and even a select few stained glass windows.
the entry hall is massive, almost resembling that of a church. the bottom floor is the only part of the house where your father occasionally receives guests, so he wanted the interior design to be warm but minimalistic. the most socially acceptable, the most pleasing to everyone. the first and second floors have much more personality to them — framed photographs and oil paintings on the walls, rugs with different patterns, shelves filled with a large variety of beautifully bound books.
even though you and your brothers have your own apartments in the city, you still come back here most nights, and today is no different.
going up the stairs with your heels in hand, you find jeonghan sitting by himself at the desk in the library, nothing but a soft lamp lighting up the room.
“hey,” he says softly. you walk over to him, feeling his hand on your waist before you lean down, allowing him to kiss your cheek.
the greeting is one you’re used to getting from him. “hi. what’re you doing here?”
“just… wanted to do some reading. clear my head.”
he seems tired. you’re all tired — it’s been a long week.
so you squeeze his shoulder, and he’s just about salivating at your touch. “you okay, hannie?”
jeonghan blinks slowly, giving the same response he always gives to the question. “yeah, i’m fine.”
at this point, you wonder why you’re even asking him. it’s almost upsetting to be a part of such a close-knit family and still have someone who just can’t seem to trust you. you don’t know how to get through to your oldest brother, and even though you greatly care for him, you’ve somewhat given up on the idea he’ll ever change.
so you tend to stick with surface-level questions. “have you been able to get some sleep?”
“not really, but i’ll manage,” he responds, pointing towards the other end of the hall. “i don’t know if you’ve seen gyu yesterday, but you can spot those eyebags of his from a mile away. he needs it more than me.”
“is he in?”
“yeah, said he wanted to wait ‘til you got back.”
“i guess i better go and see him, then,” you mutter, gently running your hand through his soft locks one last time before walking away from him, and he sighs while watching you leave him for his brother, as you do every time.
jeonghan is tempted to stand up and tell you the truth — that he was only in the library for the entire evening so he could catch a glimpse of you when you’d get home — but as always, he keeps his mouth shut.
down the hall, you open the door to mingyu’s bedroom. from the soft, navy blue couch, he doesn’t look up from his phone until he catches your figure. “how was your dinner?”
closing the door behind you, you shrug before answering. “the usual. though he was quite nice to me, considering i cussed him out the other day.”
“i’m sure he deserved it.”
he moves his legs out of the way so you can sit next to him, and mingyu is convinced he should go catch some sleep — he makes the mistake of glancing at your legs, finding you’re wearing suspenders with your lace stockings under that little black dress.
as expertly as ever, he pulls you into his lap, acting like he’s not subtly hiking up your dress. “did you mention me in confession last week?”
sucking in a breath, you try to avoid answering him directly. “i wanted to.”
“so you didn’t.” mingyu smirks at you. “how sinful.”
“don’t act like you’re such a saint. besides, you never know who’s listening in that booth.”
“oh, c’mon. you’d let me do it again. right?”
“no.”
“yes, you would.”
your brother has already found the zipper before you can say anything else, and he slides it down, allowing you to take the fabric off, baring your skin to him.
“did you wear this for him? some lowlife who works for us?” he asks, and you’re unsure whether the disdain lacing his tone stems from pure jealousy or contempt for your date.
a playful scoff leaves your mouth. “i wore it for myself, actually. but having you all hot and bothered is an added bonus.”
he groans underneath you when you rub against his growing erection. “you know how i feel about stockings.”
“i don’t think i do. maybe you should remind me,” you tell him, and he instinctively lifts you off his lap, laying you on your back, leaving him between your legs. he spreads your thighs, kissing the skin, trailing upwards to your lacy underwear.
flashing you a grin, you catch a glimpse of his sharp canine teeth, feeling himself harden when you push his face between your thighs.
mingyu eats you out for so long, you lose track of time. he always enjoys pushing you to your limits, making you squirm underneath him until you’re about to pass out.
he likes feeling useful. you give him that — among other things.
while your panties are discarded on his expensive rug, jeonghan finds himself outside the door to mingyu’s room, uneasiness sitting in his chest as the moans of his brother and sister ring through his ears.
── 03. TRAPPED
THE FOUR OF YOU GREW UP IN MODERN ISOLATION.
it’s something you were raised to think was normal. as is inevitable, when you have bizarrely disconnected, wealth-obsessed parents. they lived for money, power, status, and they passed that need down onto their children.
at school, classmates flocked to you and your brothers like moths to a flame. none of you were popular kids by choice, really, considering it was mostly just the shared last name that attracted everyone.
and a lesson you quickly learned was that none of those people were your friend. the slightest display of weakness had them going in for the kill — harassing you, bullying you, trying to overpower someone they were secretly jealous of.
so you kept everyone at a distance. friends were people who happened to be bearable and in the same social circle. true friendship was something you found hard to fathom.
anytime you traveled, you’d fly private. your family always vacationed together, in the caribbean, in secluded private mansions. your parents preferred to avoid hotels, to be away from people.
they had a certain way of talking about strangers. always assume the worst in people, always keep a distance. block them out. prioritize the family above all else.
everything that happened within the family would stay in it, so much so that the idea of remotely trusting outsiders became an extremely foreign one. the pressure of protecting the family image was instilled in your system from the day you developed consciousness.
how could the four of you possibly develop a different mindset? the things your parents warned you about were proved to be true left and right. you and your brothers only had each other to rely on, and no one else. it’s the one thing that never changed — the only constant in your life.
and sure, maybe there was someone out there in the world who wouldn’t let you down. maybe.
but none of you were ready to take that chance with the risk of getting yourselves and the family hurt. not when you were content with what you had.
high school was arguably the toughest period of your lives. back when you were teenagers, things were hectic, and sometimes it made even your massive home feel suffocatingly small.
jeonghan always acted on that role of the eldest, even when you were younger. always responsible, making sure the rest of you didn’t get in trouble — or getting you out of it when you already were. bearing that responsibility, loneliness is all he’s ever known.
he was the golden child from the start. you followed in a close second place; usually abiding by your parents’ rules, though rules set by anyone else you were always very keen to break.
you were sociable but detached. always polite, always aware of how to get people to like you, but always keeping everyone out. sometimes, you’d stir some drama just to get a kick from seeing people in your circle go at eachother — as decorum obsessed as you are, you’ve always loved a little chaos.
joshua was more adventurous. as good a kid as he was, ever favored in sunday school, he still liked pushing the limits every now and then. he and jeonghan would bicker about it for days on end, though it was nothing compared to the lashings your youngest brother got.
mingyu was the rowdiest. sleazy, drinking, doing drugs, going to parties all the time. puberty hit him early and quickly. where he’d previously only gotten attention from others because of his last name, he suddenly also got it for his criminally good looks.
but yes, the last name remained a big factor in his social circle as well.
with you and mingyu being the youngest, you grew attached to one another to such an extent that your family found it strange. you had more in common with jeonghan, and mingyu with joshua — yet it was the two of you that got so close.
especially during your teenage years.
it was a weird, intoxicating period of your life. while you kept your alcohol intake to a minimum and refused to do drugs, you were often at the same parties, with your own group of friends.
the first time mingyu kissed you, he was sixteen. and drunk.
the next time, he was sober. so were you.
it was quick and fleeting. over before either of you could process it — but not unintentional.
it felt wrong and unfamiliar and electric. there was something between you that you weren’t quite able to find with anyone else. even if you bickered about the smallest of things like true siblings, mingyu had a way of making you feel safe and genuinely wanted that no one else did.
another boy tried to kiss you at one of the parties that followed. you knew there was no way to escape your brother’s possessiveness once you caught mingyu approaching him with a clenched jaw and harsh eyes — and you enjoyed having him cause a fuss over you.
when taking you home that night, he wanted you more than ever before.
he knew you were saving your virginity for a special moment. while he’d had a girl on his knees for him in a club bathroom once, it’d never gone further than that. didn’t feel right at the time.
one look at you, standing across from him in your dark lingerie, was enough to make it feel right.
yet your first time together was anything but erotic. trembling fingers with every move, shivering in cold sweat, scared of both the coming-of-age experience you couldn’t fathom trusting anyone else with and the knowledge this night would change your relationship forever.
he buried his head in the crook of your neck at the sight of tears welling up in your eyes, and the corners of his mouth were curled down in horror.
both of you were torn between getting closer and pushing each other away.
whatever took place next passed like a blur. to your shame, he’d made you come, followed by him spilling inside the condom, and the room had never been quieter, save for your ragged breaths.
your actions dawned on you immediately after. it almost made you run to the bathroom and throw up. what kind of person were you becoming? how fucked up were you to willingly do something like that with your own family?
mingyu seemed to share your thoughts on the matter, given he’d slipped out of your room without a single word. you ended up avoiding eachother for several days.
the first one-on-one conversation was awkward, to say the least. it was nothing more than small talk at first.
but you missed your brother, and mingyu missed his sister.
“gyu...” you hesitantly started at some point, “did i lose you?”
the implication instantly made him shake his head. “no. you could never lose me.”
“then why won’t you look at me?”
“because of… what we did,” he swallowed the lump in his throat, “and the way i’ve been feeling about it.”
you nodded, taking the response as him saying he didn’t want to talk about it. as it turned out, that wasn’t entirely true.
while you remained quiet, he leaned forward, toward you, in a manner that made him seem desperate. “i’m not sure if i’m more ashamed of initiating it in general, enjoying it, or… wanting to feel it again.”
that made you lift your head. he, on the other hand, was too afraid to meet your eyes.
“gyu—”
“last night, i... i tried to fuck someone else. a girl i saw at a bar. and i couldn’t even go through with it, because i saw her face, and she wasn’t you. she didn’t sound the same as you, and i tried so hard to find someone who looked like you—”
the tears in his eyes pulled you out of the shock his words put you in. you’d pulled him into an embrace, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, fingers digging into your sides so hard it almost hurt.
“i’m so sorry,” he’d sobbed, and frankly, you didn’t know what to think.
you also felt sick to your stomach for engaging in your desires, but not quite sick enough to stop dreaming and fantasizing about him at night. the fact that you willingly took each other’s virginity is one that could never be undone, just like the change in your relationship that came with it.
“no one can know about us, gyu. no one,” you’d whispered to him, and he’d nodded in agreement.
he fucked you again that night. it passed like a blur.
the next day, at the dinner table, your father made a comment about mingyu having your bone structure. it had you freezing up in your seat.
he went on about you having jeonghan’s mannerisms, and the latter taking on the same frown joshua always had on his face whenever he was irritated. you barely caught the words that followed.
on most days, when you look at your brothers, you forget you don’t share blood with them. if anything, it’s always felt like you do, even if a test would prove otherwise.
but just the reminder of reality, of that sibling dynamic that will always weigh heavier than your romantic one — it made your stomach turn.
so when mingyu kissed you after, he knew something was off. you told him what your father said.
he’d muttered something under his breath before leaving your room.
ever since then, you’ve been stuck in a constant cycle that keeps repeating itself. you seek eachother out, you have sex, followed by a short period of time where the shame of what you’re doing weighs heavier than your attraction, until it no longer does and you seek eachother out again.
and experiencing that cycle is unlike anything else you ever have. it drains you and gives you life; it disgusts you and makes you feel higher than any drug ever could.
on some days, you try to rationalize it. and the worst thing might be that, as revolting as it is, it makes complete sense. because that love you have for each other is about the only easy, natural source of good feelings you’ve ever had.
perhaps it was bound to happen between you, given you’re two siblings in a fucked up family, growing up in a repressive conservative environment, with severely stunted emotional development. you interpreted each other’s love as the only thing that could bring you happiness — or more importantly, the only thing that would keep you from dying alone and unloved.
neither you nor he knows how to stop yourselves from conflating and seeking to gratify all of your impulses for connection, with eachother, all at once.
because you will never build an actual, deep connection with anyone outside your family, no matter how badly you might want to sometimes.
the crunch of seungcheol’s bite into his sourdough sandwich pulls you out of the dark and bottomless pit in your brain.
naturally, you didn’t call him to have lunch with you for no reason, a fact you’re both highly aware of. you’ve been seeing him a lot lately, as per your father’s orders, of course.
while he’s digging into his food, you glance at his tie, scrunching up your nose in disapproval.
seungcheol swallows his bite before asking, “what’s wrong?”
“why on earth are you wearing such a skinny tie?”
“it’s—is it that bad?”
“don’t make me answer that.”
“okay. so what would you recommend?”
you sigh, but actually don’t really mind having a new little project to go shopping with. “alright. c’mon.”
it’s how you end up in a menswear shop, picking up one tie after another, holding it up in front of his neck to see the way it looks with his skin.
“so, have you discovered anything new on the scene of the crime?” you ask, referring to his promise to try and find the truth behind joshua’s death, but he shakes his head.
“it’s hard to say. there was nothing unusual about the dna found in the apartment, the security footage was wiped, no witnesses, no murder weapon. it’s an interesting case, but certainly not an easy one. i’m sorry, i was hoping to have better news for you.”
there’s something particularly snide about the way you look at him, as if him showing up without results is exactly what you expected from him. as if you already knew of his failure.
picking up another tie — a red one this time — you speak without meeting his eyes. “i almost forgot. my father didn’t get to meet you at the funeral, so he wants you to join us all for dinner tomorrow night. at our house.”
oh, hell. this is the last thing he wants right now.
then again, he can’t refuse, since this is the perfect opportunity to get closer to your family without it being suspicious and because you wouldn’t even accept no for an answer.
so he scratches his throat. “is there... is there a dress code?”
he appears so genuinely lost about it that you can’t help but smile at the poor guy.
“well, first of all, you’ll be wearing this tie,” you hold up the one you find looks best on him, “with a three-piece suit. my father likes a man who’s well-dressed. admittedly, so do i. you should go for one with peak lapels, that’ll look good on your shoulders and chest.”
“right,” he nods, forcing himself to keep up with the tips you’re giving him.
“look, either you don’t have said three-piece hanging in your closet or you do but it’s not properly tailored, and regardless of which one of those applies to you, it means that you need a new suit. therefore we’re gonna go shopping. right now. my treat,” you tell him, and he can only stare while you go on ahead to the register to purchase the ridiculously expensive tie.
he’s still processing it when you hand him the paper gift bag, blinking a few times at your determination for him to look good in front of your family.
“hey, you don’t need to pay for me.”
“you paid for lunch. i pay for your outfit. we’ll call it even.”
“lunch was forty bucks. this tie is more than six times that amount.”
you force yourself hold back from calling him your little charity case. “right. like i said. even.”
“no. i pay for the suit.”
“how about we make a deal?” you ask, even though you’re entirely unwilling to negotiate with him on this. “i get to sugar-mama you for this, you pay for dinner next time.”
seungcheol almost gives in. he’ll admit, you’re good at this — charming, such a lovely smile plastered on your face that he almost believes it’s genuine.
but he remembers what he’s doing here. why someone like you is even spending time with him in the first place. what got him into his position at work.
he can’t be bought. he won’t be bought.
“the suit’s on me,” he shoots back, watching your attitude falter a little in surprise, “but i’d be more than happy to have your advice on which one to pick.”
you regain your composure as swiftly as it started to show a crack. “alright. there’s a good shop across the street.”
you turn around, feeling a little tense, and having him open the door for you like a true gentleman doesn’t make it easier.
the next day, in the late afternoon, you once again find yourself in mingyu’s room.
truthfully, you only went to see him to check if he’s heard anything about when your dress would arrive from the dry cleaner’s. he figured you could just stay in his room until your clothing would arrive — and you should’ve known things between you would escalate, as it always does whenever that door clicks shut behind you.
mingyu pushes out a shaky breath, his hand sitting on the back of your head while you suck him off.
“always taking me so well,” he mutters with flushed cheeks, taking a shuddering breath when you hollow your cheeks.
it’s a miracle he didn’t come the moment he felt the warm heat of your mouth around him. you always look so perfect when you take him in — no other woman has ever made him feel like this. he could never look at someone else the way he looks at you.
whether that’s a good thing or not, he doesn’t know. but the wet heat of you makes every rational thought in his head crumble.
you hum around his cock, and it just about drives him to the edge, pulling a groan out of him.
it doesn’t take much longer before you’re reaching into the front of your black, cotton shorts, moving your left hand to rub at your clit over the fabric your panties. your brother doesn’t even have to imagine how wet you are — he knows exactly what gets you dripping you for him.
then you suddenly dig your nails into his thighs, taking him in as deep as you can, and it makes his hips stutter, muscles pulling together when he comes for you.
“fuck,” he breathes out, pupils dilated when he peers down at you.
putting his hand on your jaw, he makes you look up at him, and he admires you for a moment, eventually leaning down to kiss you, smiling at the taste of himself on your tongue.
you can already tell what he’s planning when he pulls you up to your feet and sinking to his knees, switching your previous position.
a quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall pulls you out of it. “shit, i gotta start getting ready.”
“no, we’re not done,” he says. “we still have, like, an hour.”
a scoff escapes you. he very conveniently forgets about the fact that you also need to do your hair and makeup. “you know i like to take my time.”
“so do i,” he smirks, biting at the skin of your thigh, making it a lot harder to push him away.
in a swift motion, mingyu puts his big hand on your stomach, pushing you back against the wall so he can put his head between your legs. you’re so turned on that you decide to let him.
of course, he makes you come on his fingers in no-time. by that point, he’s painfully hard again — and you’re begging for him to fuck you. he’s just bottomed out when there’s a knock on the door.
mingyu continues to push into you with a steady rhythm when he raises his voice. “who is it?”
“me. unlock the door.”
“you gotta be kidding me,” your younger brother huffs, slowly pulling himself out of you, and it makes you feel so empty that a huff rolls past your lips.
with jeonghan waiting outside the door, you try to make yourself at least somewhat presentable. you pray you don’t look as messy as you feel, all flushed and sweaty. you gesture for mingyu to get his clothes while you move to open the door.
your older brother’s eyes briefly rake over your body, scanning you up and down, not at all surprised to find you here. without saying a word, you walk towards the sofa, plopping down as if it’s what you were previously doing.
“is there a reason why you’re not dressed yet?” jeonghan borderline sneers at mingyu, who’s buttoning his pants in a manner that might as well give away entirely he just had sex.
christ, the room even smells like it. if jeonghan has taken notice, he’s hiding it remarkably well.
mingyu doesn’t seem to make a big effort in hiding his hard-on. “i was just showing her some of the outfit options i have. is that a problem?”
“yeah, because you’re taking too long. hurry the hell up.”
“is that all you came here for? seriously?”
“no,” he responds, turning to you, “i came to let you know your dress just got here. it’s in the hallway.”
it makes you rise from the couch immediately. “fucking finally. thanks, hannie.”
he hums, following you out of the room, but not without shooting mingyu a glare that could kill.
half an hour later, seungcheol anxiously sits in the back of the car, and it’s like he can feel the driver judging him through the rear mirror. he’s not one to shy away from the occasional networking event, but god is he nervous for this. he’s been fidgeting with the cufflinks of his overly expensive suit jacket ever since he got in the backseat.
he’s got to admit — you have exquisite taste. the suit is perfectly tailored to his body, the fabric comfortable against his skin. it’s sleek and he feels good in it.
for some reason, he’s most eager to see how you’ll look at him in it. even if he feels above it all, he secretly finds himself itching to get something right in your book, to impress you.
the car comes to a halt before the massive gates he recognizes from the day of the funeral, the only difference being that it’s dark outside. once the driver is cleared by the security guard, the gate opens, and the car pulls up into the driveway.
upon his arrival, you greet seungcheol with two kisses on the cheek, and it immediately sours the mood for your brothers watching from the porch.
jeonghan vicariously tries to live through any man getting your affection. as he’s leaning against one of the pillars, he takes a last drag of his cigarette, his darkened eyes just barely fading into the laid-back attitude he so often sports.
mingyu’s jealousy, on the other hand, is much more present on the surface. he makes little to no effort to hide his clenched jaw, and frankly, it takes every bit of self-restraint he’s got not to tell the guy his sweet sister was sucking his dick less than an hour ago.
he’s been feeling on edge in general lately. frustrated. with joshua gone, you’re the only member of the family he can express it to these days.
so when he gazes at your figure in that little dress, all dolled up and gorgeous, he detests the idea of another man getting to look at you. and now he’s got it happening right under his nose. for the whole evening.
but choi seungcheol is nothing, he keeps telling himself when that possessiveness over you crawls into his head. a nobody. beneath you.
so he digs his nails into his palm and carries on.
the dinner itself is mostly filled with small talk. nothing of substance — just polite smiles that have a pressing warning behind them. your father is glad to see seungcheol expressing some interest in you, just as he’d intended.
once you’ve had your main courses, your father suggests for you to take cheol for a little tour around the estate. naturally, you oblige, taking him to see the gardens, the art collection in the living room, the wine cellar and library on the ground floor.
sure, he takes it all in with wide eyes — it’s a level of wealth he never imagined to be real nor one he’ll ever achieve for himself. but as impressive as those paintings might be, or how expensive those old bottles of wine are, he constantly catches himself looking at you instead.
which is ridiculous. of course, you’re beautiful. but he doesn’t like you. he doesn’t. matter of fact, he swore to keep this thing purely business. he’s only supposed to get closer to you for your family’s dirty secrets.
but would liking you a tiny bit really be so bad, though?
eventually, when you’re alone in the living room together, you tell him you just need to use the bathroom, and you’ll be right back.
he has his hands sitting in his pockets, absentmindedly staring into the flames of the fireplace.
not long after you’ve excused yourself, seungcheol swears he hears voices somewhere, like people are arguing. it sounds like it’s coming from the first floor — and contrary to his well-mannered nature, he gets the incessant urge to walk up the stairs and find out what’s going on.
he’s not sure what it is that drives him. maybe it’s the fact that he finds you just as intriguing as scary, or the information he needs to gather about your family if he wants to deliver results to hansol, or perhaps it’s just sheer curiosity.
either way, he’s already moving up the stairs before any rational thinking comes in.
on the first floor, the two brothers have somehow ended up in the library, pointing fingers at each other.
“you belittle me like that again, and i’ll—”
“you’ll what?” jeonghan pushes, knowing exactly what reaction he’s going to be met with, yet the words roll off his tongue anyway. “if you wanna impress dad, maybe you should stop being so goddamn impulsive for once in your life.”
mingyu’s face instantly hardens. his need to be the favorite son has always been a touchy subject for him. “i don’t need to impress anyone. everything you have you only got from him because you’re the eldest.”
“or maybe he just appreciates someone who can keep the situation under control. all you do is let things escalate.”
“it’s not like i ever got the chance to do anything else. you’ve always had dad’s favor!” mingyu exclaims, feeling the veins popping out his neck in anger.
“and you’ve got our sister’s!”
the younger of the two recognizes the perfect button to push in return. “is that what this is about? you’re just jealous?”
“oh, please. i’d never be jealous of you.”
“right. you say that now, but it’s fucking killing you that i’ve always been her favorite, and she’ll always choose me over you.”
jeonghan tries to think rationally, but he’s always loved playing dirty. “you think dad would ever look at you again if he found out what you’re doing with her?”
mingyu doesn’t know why he’s at all surprised that jeonghan knows exactly what’s been going on under his nose. the two of you have become careless in hiding it from your family over the past few years — leaving doors unlocked, not bothering to keep the noise down, constantly being around one another, in each other’s rooms.
realistically, you always assumed your brothers knew something was going on between you, even if they didn’t know what exactly.
but threatening to use that knowledge against you is another thing entirely.
“you wouldn’t,” mingyu breathes out, toning down his attitude.
“i absolutely would.”
outside the door, seungcheol tries to listen in on the conversation. it’s hard to catch everything, but he catches some phrases here and there, narrowing his eyes at the words.
he almost loses his balance for a moment, and in order to stabilize himself, he puts his foot on the floor a little louder than he means to.
the two men inside, having lived in the house for most of their lives, both recognize the sound of that one floorboard that creaks in that oddly specific way when you step on it — they only have to exchange a look to come to the conclusion someone is outside the door.
someone is listening.
seungcheol immediately gets away from the door when he hears footsteps approaching, but to no avail. he can’t even get some bullshit excuse out of his mouth, because mingyu lets his frustration get to him, grabbing cheol by his jacket and pushing him against the wall.
“what the hell do you think you’re doing? listening in on private conversations is impolite,” he sneers, and jeonghan tries to push his brother away.
“i didn’t mean to, i swear,” cheol tries to apologize, hoping to get out of the situation before it escalates even further.
at the other end of the hallway, you’ve reached the top of the stairs, spotting the three of them in the last position you expected to find them in.
“the fuck are you doing?” you scowl, and mingyu remains just as hostile toward seungcheol when he explains it to you.
“he was eavesdropping.”
“i wasn’t.”
“mingyu. let him go. now,” jeonghan tells his brother with a low voice, his usual nonchalant demeanor nowhere to be found. you don’t see this side of him often, but in the rare moments you do, it takes your breath away.
mingyu feels the adrenaline slowly ebbing away, and he sighs, finally letting go of cheol’s jacket. you push at his shoulder before taking seungcheol with you, fervently apologizing for your brother’s behavior.
“i’m so sorry, he never—i’ve never seen him do that before,” you say, still a little shocked yourself, inspecting his face. “he didn’t hit you, did he?”
“no, he didn’t. it’s okay, really. he seemed upset about something, so it was probably just a heat-of-the-moment thing.”
jesus, cheol thinks to himself, he’s lucky you’re not cussing him out as well. after all, he was eavesdropping, so mingyu’s reaction wasn’t unwarranted.
he sighs, glancing at his watch. “i should head home anyway. got an early morning tomorrow.”
you nod your head in understanding. “yeah, okay.”
cheol spots something of disappointment in your features. “for what it’s worth, i liked being around you tonight.”
“me?”
as he pulls his coat on, he nods. “can i just be honest?”
“you don’t have to keep asking me that, seungcheol.”
“well, i…” he admits, not sure what the hell has gotten into his system that he’s being so upfront with you, “i like being around you. even if you’re being a little mean. which you are, sometimes. but i like you. so…”
you listen to him, both stunned and amused. the confession is oddly endearing to you.
with a scoff, you ask, “mean? me?”
“yes, you.” he takes his scarf and puts it around his neck, everything that’s coming out of his mouth sounding surprisingly gentle. “have a good night. call me if you need anything.”
you watch him as he leaves through the front door, heading into the pouring rain.
the exchange does something to that hard-wired system you’ve got in your brain. the problem is — you’re not sure what.
later on that night, with your father having retreated to his office, jeonghan made sure to get the three of you in the same room together. and good lord does he look angry.
you sit on the sofa with your legs crossed, watching jeonghan as he scolds your youngest brother.
“what kind of idiot are you? he was a guest. we need the guy to be our ally. dad’s been pulling strings to get in his good graces. she’s been working him since the scene at the funeral. and you look at him once and let him get to you?”
“i don’t need you to lecture me.”
“except you do.” jeonghan grabs his jaw almost roughly, the condescension in his tone remaining glaringly obvious. “stop being so fucking careless. i’m sick of cleaning up after you.”
mingyu, despite towering over all of you with his height, makes himself smaller whenever someone’s upset with him. sometimes he deserves it — other times you feel for him.
jeonghan’s gaze somewhat softens when he turns to look at you, but there’s a sharp edge there that doesn’t quite falter. “i wanna talk to you, too. you’re coming with me.”
“now? where?” you ask while he pulls at your wrist, getting you up to your feet.
“anywhere but here,” he mutters to himself, needing to talk to you about this outside of this suffocating house.
luckily, his apartment is only a five-minute drive. he’s quiet the whole ride, and upon arrival, he gestures for you to sit on the living room chair. you frown but do so anyways.
“i wanted you to hear it from me that the reason we got into an argument in the first place was because of you,” he says after throwing his jacket off, leaning with his back against the wall.
“what about me?”
jeonghan observes you from his spot by the wall with half-lidded eyes, his voice relaxed. perhaps a little too much so, for what comes out of his mouth. “you and mingyu. how far back does it go?”
the question knocks the air out of your lungs. “what are you talking about?”
“stop hiding it from me. i already know. i don’t judge you, so i ask again, how far back does it go?”
you swallow the fresh lump in your throat. now that he already knows, you suppose there’s no reason to hide it anymore. “since... we were sixteen.”
he chuckles soundlessly, shaking his head to himself. “you let him take your virginity, didn’t you?”
“jeonghan, please,” you quietly choke out, begging him to stop, but the attempt is futile.
“didn’t you?”
in a brief silence, your emotions are fighting each other to see which one comes out on top. shame? anger? guilt? frustration? hatred?
“yes, and i took his. what does it matter?” you snap back at him in a flash of hostility. “it’s been years. we’ve been discreet enough, no one outside the family knows. if you’re going to tell me we should stop because it’s wrong—”
“did i say it was?” he rasps.
“you don’t think it is?”
he sighs, taking a few steps over to you, and you look up at him from the chair. “looking back at all the things we’ve done... laws aren’t applicable to us. we can kill who we want. hurt who we want. ruin who we want. ‘cause everyone outside this family is expendable — below us. if we’re not bound by society’s rules, why should we be bound by its morals?”
your older brother might have some things in common with the rest of you, but one thing that so clearly sets you apart is authority. it has the power to make him harsh and unforgiving. it often pisses you off. on other occasions, you admire him for it.
but the attraction you feel for him in this moment is new.
“you have my full support to do whatever you want. be as terrible as you want to be.” jeonghan lets his palm rest on your jaw, running his thumb over your lip. “whatever happens, i’ll be here. i just hope you realize that, at some point, it’s gonna be you and me.”
“what makes you think that?”
“you and mingyu… you match well. but you’re more like me. you always have been.”
his palm remains on your skin. he’s always been handsy with you, and you with him, on a very comfortable level, even if he’s used to being incredibly guarded. this time, it feels different. electric.
and that, you find, is alarming.
crossing that line with one brother has already been more than detrimental, so the sheer realization that perhaps you’d go as far as to think of doing it with another one is a little insane. to say the least.
how far will you take this? your relationship with mingyu, this development between you and jeonghan — it suffocates. it’s all you’ve ever felt.
all you’ve ever needed.
── 04. DAMAGED BEYOND REPAIR
IN THE CHURCH, you sit by yourself, blinking slowly as you stare into nothing, a rosary sitting under the fabric of your turtleneck.
just as you’re considering going to the bathroom to take it off, seungcheol sits down beside you right when you’re rubbing at your eyes. “everything okay? you seem tired.”
you scoff at his bluntness. “you just don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
he shrugs. you find yourself smiling faintly at him.
“do you ever come here? church?” you ask out of curiosity.
“no. i find churches… cold. very cold,” he mutters, and you tilt your head as if to say you’ve got a point. he mistakes the gesture for the opposite. “sorry, i forgot you were religious.”
“don’t worry. i’m not sure if i am, most days. the imagery is beautiful, and i suppose i like some aspects of it, but… comfort i can’t find in it. nowadays, i only come here out of habit, or when i’m thinking about joshua.”
“what was he like?”
“shua was… kind-hearted. he had a smile that lit up the room, and he made these really silly dad-jokes all the time. we all loved being around him.” you pause to take a breath. “i miss him. we all do.”
he offers you a comforting squeeze of your hand. you don’t shy away from it.
regardless, you change the subject. “i just wanted to say again that… i’m sorry for what happened at the house.”
“well, for what it’s worth, you were not the one cussing me out this time, so you have nothing to apologize for.”
when you catch his playful smile, you chuckle. “i guess you’re right.”
he can’t help but compare your current state to how you behaved towards him at first. even if you certainly haven’t known each other for years, there’s been a change in the way you act around one another — you both feel more at ease. he’d even go as far as to admit he looks forward to being around you.
where that’s come from, he has no idea.
in a way, he hopes to start over with you. a somewhat clean slate. “i think, maybe, upon our first meeting, i judged you too much, and that was wrong of me. looking back, i understand why you were so hostile. why your brothers are. you’re just trying to protect your family, and i don’t think i fully grasped how intense that is until now.”
you’re not sure what to say, so you keep quiet.
he continues to reassure you. “i’ve put extra researchers into joshua’s case. anything you need, i’ll put at your disposal.”
“that’s quite a change of heart, seungcheol.”
“not without reason.”
“oh? well, do enlighten me.”
he checks to see if anyone is within earshot before answering. “honestly? it’s because i’m terrified that whoever was behind your brother’s death might be after you as well. i don’t want you to be in danger.”
it makes you raise a brow at him, fully making eye contact. “so you care about my wellbeing now?”
“seems like it.”
there’s something different about him. maybe it’s that genuine concern you’re not used to from men in his position, or that kindness in his eyes — either way, you’ve got a lot on your mind, and your head is overflowing to the point you feel like telling him the truth.
“cheol, you caught my brothers fighting, right?” you ask, at which he hesitantly nods. “truth is, it feels like... my family is slowly tearing itself apart. and i don’t know what to do.”
the statement causes him to frown. “what’s going on?”
“they’ve always been jealous of each other. whenever they fought, shua was always the voice of reason. the one with the least of a temper. without him, they’re struggling to find middle ground.”
he watches you bite your lip. “what about your father?”
it’s an idea so utterly distastrous that it makes you chuckle humorlessly. “he’s the last person who could help. he’d just tell them to shut up and tolerate each other. as he always does.”
seungcheol processes the information, but doesn’t have any other suggestions. from the corner of his eye, he catches a tear rolling down your cheek.
“i don’t understand why joshua liked being here.” a painful lump begins to push deeper into your chest. “even if i don’t really believe, i always pray. i always fucking pray. joshua always prayed. he was good and kind and he prayed and it didn’t save him. my praying didn’t bring him back. i’ve been going to confession for years, to mass, to sunday school — for what? no one has been listening to me.”
the rant that escapes you isn’t something you wanted to say to him, but he just happens to be here.
“no one is listening,” you croak out, tears sitting on your waterline.
emotions that all three of you have been bottling up your entire lives are slowly starting to come out now that no one is around to tell you how to deal with it anymore. seungcheol seems to recognize this more than you do. he wonders if, perhaps, you would’ve turned out a different person if you’d had a different father, if you hadn’t been raised with such pressure. maybe you’re a helpless pawn in your father’s game without even knowing it.
he rubs his thumb on your hand. “i’m not the right person to tell you if someone’s up there listening. but i know for a fact that you’re not alone.”
there’s something about seungcheol that makes you want to let him in. it almost makes you feel guilty, like it’s a wrong thing to feel at all — but this time, you can’t help yourself.
“i can’t talk about it. i can’t… talk about anything,” you try to emphasize again, as if to see if it’s enough to make him leave. because why else would he offer to willingly be around you, if not for personal gain?
he makes the bold move of sliding his palm against yours, fingers intertwined. “that’s okay. i’ll be here. whatever you need, whoever you need me to be.”
you let the words sink in. what would you want him to be?
the conversation is interrupted when other visitors arrive at the church, and you wipe your tears, forcing yourself to put the poker face back on. “i’ll—i’ll see you later. i’ll call you, okay?”
cheol nods, missing the warmth of your hand once you’ve let go of his hand, and you don’t wait for his answer before walking out of the hall.
later that week, after contemplating for several days on end whether you should actually give him that call, you find yourself stepping through the front door of his apartment.
the weather’s been terrible the past weeks. pouring rain, grey skies, thunder booming in the far distance. you still hear it through seungcheol’s closed windows.
he’s already opening a bottle of wine before you can tell him your preference — not that you needed to, because he already knows you enjoy red more than white.
the apartment is small, almost appallingly so, but it feels warm and lived in.
standing in his kitchen, you find he looks particularly handsome tonight. a black turtleneck sweater, glasses on, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his forearms on full display.
you often wonder if he’s aware of your attraction towards him. he’s hard to read in general.
then again, to him, so are you.
with your glass of wine in hand, you zone out into thought, and he gently nudges at your side. “have you been getting some sleep lately?”
“no, not really. i don’t really need it anyways, i’m fine.”
“after the things you’ve been going through the past months, you do.”
trying to play it off, you shoot a flirty comment his way. “worried about me, huh? like my guardian angel.”
cheol gives you a bit of a scolding look, but it quickly turns into something playful. “always. my blood pressure tends to get remarkably high whenever you cross my mind.”
“and how often does that happen?”
daily, he wants to admit. embarrassingly often, considering you’re way out of his league. “just... every now and then.”
“careful. i might start to think you have feelings for me,” you tease.
for once, he can’t think of a clever rebuttal. he just gives a smile, too fond of you to refute the implication but too insecure to admit it out loud.
but his silence speaks for itself. taking a last sip of your wine, you put the glass onto the counter, forcing him to look you in the eye.
it’s difficult to say which of you leans in first.
the moment seungcheol’s lips lock with yours, it’s as if he’s sold his soul to the devil. he feels you grin against his mouth. you’re like a venomous snake, coiling up around his limbs, trapping him in your hold, ready to sink your teeth into him.
getting emotionally involved with someone like you was a bad idea from the start. like the many men before him, he couldn’t resist falling for you.
you, on the other hand, never allowed yourself to get involved with a man like him. an outsider. doing so borderline feels like betrayal to your status, your family, your brothers — the only thing that keeps you from pulling away from seungcheol is sheer curiosity.
stumbling into his bedroom together, you let your dress fall to the floor, unveiling a burgundy set of lingerie. it takes his breath away — all he can do is admire you, sitting down on the edge of his bed, letting you grab his jaw the same way your older brother did to you not so long ago.
he tugs at the back of his shirt, throwing it off to bare his chest to you. his biceps are bigger than you expected — much bigger.
you wordlessly watch him undoing his belt, the bulge pressing against his pants causing your mouth to run dry.
once he’s as naked as you are, he doesn’t rise to his feet. you push him to lay back, moving to hover over him on your hands and knees. you leave marks all over his neck, some bordering on painful, eliciting a low groan from his throat.
rubbing your clothed pussy against his crotch, you enjoy having him under your control. he’s obediently taking everything you give him, yet unable to stop the little noises from escaping his mouth.
“how long have you wanted to fuck me, cheol?” you ask, grinding against him.
his hands remain on your waist as he admits, “so long. since that—that first dinner we had together.”
it makes you chuckle. “i knew it.”
he gasps when you reach into his boxers, fingers wrapping around his cock. he thrusts against the palm of your hand, aching for the friction you’re giving him.
to make the torture worse, you push his boxers down, your own panties to the side, rubbing your wetness against his raging hard-on.
yeah, he can feel you’re fucking soaked. all that’s flooding his senses is sex. he swiftly flips you over, teasing you by aligning himself to push into you, but not actually doing so just yet.
you clench around nothing when he rubs the tip against your hole.
then he finally slides his cock into you, and he’s starstruck. fuck, you’re so tight, so hot, so wet that he’s about to come already.
just as you’ve done countless times since he’s met you, you make him feel weak. he’s entirely at your mercy; you tell him to fuck you harder and he immediately obliges.
even as he’s got you writhing and panting underneath him, he doesn’t have your full attention.
his build is different than mingyu’s. different than jeonghan’s.
and you try your best not to think about them. you try not to think about all the times mingyu has had you pinned underneath him like this, or the way you felt when jeonghan had his hands around your waist like a lover would.
seungcheol suddenly pushes your legs over his shoulders, reaching down to rub circles on your clit. it briefly knocks the air out of your lungs.
“fuck, you feel so good,” he moans, and you allow your fingers to dig into the skin of his back.
it doesn’t take long before he feels your thighs tremble, and he pulls out at the last second, hot spurts of cum landing on your belly.
and jesus do you look hot like this. he can’t stop himself from pushing his fingers into your wet pussy, causing you to grab his wrist from the overstimulation.
curling his fingers upwards, you whine at his touch, his name repeatedly rolling off your tongue like a chant, your back arching.
he makes you come on his fingers, taking a two-minute breather before he fucks you again. by the time you’re done with each other, bodies sweaty and spent, you lay next to him, watching him drift into sleep.
seungcheol is sweet. sweeter than you imagined him to be.
and you like him. you like being around him. you like having sex with him.
but there’s an overwhelming sense of guilt that sits with you, because even while he was buried deep inside you, it felt like something was missing.
maybe it was that underlying sickness that’s always there when it’s mingyu fucking you. that feeling of doing something so utterly wrong that it somehow feels right.
seungcheol can’t give you that. at this point, you wonder if you can live without it.
so you quietly head into the bathroom to clean yourself up and get dressed, taking a last glance at the man before slipping out of his apartment.
you head back to the comfort of your family home, silently walking through the hall.
this time, you choose not to knock on mingyu’s door. with glossy eyes, you unlock the door to your own room, hoping not to see anyone.
“had a fun night?” you suddenly hear, and you catch jeonghan staring at you from the other side of the hall. when his eyes meet your teary ones, his playful attitude drops, taking a few steps over to you. “what’s wrong?”
“nothing. just—nothing.”
“don’t say that to me. i can see you’re not fine. what is it, doll?”
the first tear rolls down your cheek, and he gently takes you into your room, embracing you once the door is shut behind you.
“hey, you can talk to me,” he mutters, stroking your hair, but you shake your head.
“no. it’s disgusting.”
“i don’t judge you. i never will,” jeonghan promises, voice so soft that it drives you to try and open up to him.
you lie back on your bed, burying your face in your hands. “for the past six years, gyu is the only person i’ve had sex with. the only one i wanted, the only one i trusted. and tonight, i… i slept with another man.”
“who?” he asks, sitting down beside you.
“choi seungcheol.”
your brother pauses for a moment, genuine confusion on his face. “what were you trying to get from him?”
the question alone makes you feel even worse. of course that would be his response; after all, why else would you sleep with an outsider, if not for some selfish gain?
“i don’t know. it felt like the biggest sin i’ve ever committed,” you sniff, staring up at the ceiling. “isn’t that fucked up?”
he lets it sink in, but doesn’t say a word.
“i mean, is it only ever gonna feel right for me when i’m with my brother? am i that damaged? just beyond repair?” you reach for the bridge of your nose, feeling hot tears brimming against your lids.
he pulls you into an embrace, stroking your hair. “yeah. but i kinda think we all are. and it’s not our fault.”
“you really believe that?”
“we don’t have anyone at our level, y’know. so the three of us gotta be everything to each other, because no one else can be. we’re each other’s siblings, friends, lovers, enemies… we have to be all of it. ‘cause we can’t let anyone else in.”
it’s a statement so downright depressing that it makes you want to vomit.
jeonghan lets you cry into the crook of his neck. the words are just as hard for him to process as they are for you, truly — but the jealousy that’s been bubbling in his chest is much stronger than his life lacking something he’s not even sure exists.
he wants you to be happy. like all of your brothers, he’s always felt that instinct to protect you, alongside a certain unhealthy possessiveness that you’ve never quite refuted.
a man like choi seungcheol doesn’t belong in your life. certainly not in your bed.
he believes he does.
“can i be honest?” jeonghan asks, and when you nod, you look up at him to find his eyes glossy, fingers trembling as they sit on your skin. “i’ve dreamt about you for years. long before i even discovered you were with gyu. maybe i’m sick, no, i—i know i’m sick for wanting you as much as i do, but—”
shaking your head, you intertwine your fingers with his. “it’s okay.”
“no matter what happens...” he sniffs, gently allowing his forehead to rest against yours, “no matter how terrible we all are, i love you. out of everyone, i love you the most.”
you let your hand slide up to his neck. jeonghan, for all his flaws, has always made you feel safe and loved. this time is no different. and his confession, paired with your experience with seungcheol, makes you wonder if it would feel better with him.
after all, he is one of the only men who loves you unconditionally.
as if it’s your first time all over again, you tug at your clothes, peeling off the fabric with shaky hands. “i just wanna stop thinking about it all for tonight. i need it to stop.”
with blown-out pupils and red lower eyelids, he watches you undress yourself in front of him.
“you want me?” he asks, sounding more shocked than anything.
nodding, you take his warm hands, bringing them to your exposed bra. “please, hannie.”
whether you’re planning for this to be a one-time thing or something more permanent is hard to say. not even you know which you want, really. but you want him for tonight, and to jeonghan, that’s all that matters.
he lets you take control, allows you to sink down on him, your pussy warm and wet and almost painfully tight. the stretch burns, but you push through, lowering yourself on him until he’s completely sheathed inside you.
it nearly makes you cry tears of ecstasy. this is the feeling you missed earlier tonight; the dizzying sickness, that depraved sensation of fucking a man who should never be in your bed to begin with.
and like always, pleasure overtakes your shame, and jeonghan is rock hard when you lift your hips and push them down over and over again, eyes rolling back in his skull.
his hands linger on your hips before moving them to your bouncing tits, salivating at the feeling of your nipples against his palms.
suddenly, he asks, “you ever made videos with gyu?”
“no,” you tell him. a funny thing, considering jeonghan has managed to secretly take some short videos of the two of you when you were fucking — mostly just to see what you’d look and sound like, but still something that could be useful to him in other situations.
but he’s desperate to have you fucking him on footage.
of course, you beat him to it, suggesting, “wanna make one?”
he smirks at you, putting his phone on his nightstand, clicking on the red button.
you fuck him so good that he almost forgets you slept with another man tonight. some lowlife, no less. he doesn’t blame you for it, of course, but choi seungcheol on the other hand — he needs to be taught a lesson.
something primal rushes through him at the sight of your naked body, fingers twitching when he watches his cock disappear into you. fuck, how many times has he fantasized about this?
your breathing gets a little uneven, and he can tell your thighs are starting to burn, so he holds your hips and begins to push upwards, pulling you down on him.
knowing his phone is still recording, he grins, purposely saying, “so good at taking your brother’s dick, aren’t you?”
it causes you to let out a shameless moan, the words alone ripping an orgasm out of you. you violently tighten up around him, clenching your teeth, and jeonghan comes inside you like he’s always hoped he would.
the next day, seungcheol is a little disappointed when he finds he’s alone in his apartment. he’d hoped you would stay. there’s no messages from you on his phone, either.
did he misread your intentions last night? he didn’t go into it thinking it was a one-time thing.
regardless, he has places to be. it’s thursday morning, so he should just get up and go to work. knowing you, you’ll probably show up sooner than later, unannounced.
he keeps thinking about you — even when he steps out the building and into the alley for his second smoke break of the day.
grabbing his lighter, he’s about to bring it to his face when he hears a voice. “allow me.”
jeonghan, in his long wool coat, has that sly grin on his face when he’s lit seungcheol’s cigarette, blowing out the smoke of his own. he leans back against the stone wall, watching as cheol tries to put together why it’s not you that’s standing in front of him right now.
“didn’t expect to see me?” he asks innocently.
cheol raises his shoulders. “not really, no. anything i can help you with?”
the younger of the two takes another drag. “i came here to talk about my sister.”
“is she alright?”
“oh yeah, don’t worry,” jeonghan even manages to sound nice for a brief second there, “but i think it’s about time you stop seeing her.”
seungcheol narrows his eyes. sure, he felt some level of hostility from your brothers when he came over to your family home for dinner that night, even before mingyu had him pinned to the wall for eavesdropping. he didn’t think it had anything to do with you.
“why?”
“because you’re not good for her. you can’t make her happy.”
a breathless laugh escapes him. “i think your sister is old and mature enough to determine who she wants to be with.”
he takes a few steps back towards the entrance, ready to leave, until jeonghan speaks up again. “you know that me and my brother have both had her, right?”
it hits like rumbling thunder in the sky. “… what?”
“did you really think you could have her all to yourself? a girl like that?” jeonghan patronizes him, and cheol immediately shakes his head.
“you’re lying.”
“why would i?” he asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “would you like to see?”
seungcheol is horrified at the videos jeonghan shows him. you with both of your brothers, on separate occasions. it’s all there — all true.
“my brother and sister have always been that close. they even took eachother’s virginity in high school. me and her are a more… recent development. hey, you tell me. out of me and gyu, she was definitely enjoying herself more on top of me, right?”
“you’re sick.”
jeonghan’s faux-playful attitude is gone in the blink of an eye. “welcome to the family. this is just who we are. you’ll never have a chance with her, and the sooner you realize that, the better.”
“are you forcing her to do this with you?”
“forcing her?” his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at the insinuation. how fucking dare he? “you think she’s some helpless little girl? some innocent bystander? when we were younger, she was ten times worse than me. hell, she was the worst of my siblings. she’s as bad as the rest of us.”
seungcheol refuses to believe it. he has to believe the woman he’s grown so fond of, the person he’s seen become so vulnerable around him, isn’t doing this. “no.”
but your brother has known you practically your whole life. “she’s our father’s daughter. it’s the first identity she ever had. and she’s just sweet enough to everyone that it makes you wonder if you’re imagining the edge to her tone, particularly when she doesn’t get the respect she believes she deserves to have solely because of her last name, and that scowl on her face when someone turns away from her. never noticed that, did you, seungcheol?”
he might throw up in this fucking alley. his face turns pale, and he discards his cigarette onto the cobblestone, barely getting enough oxygen for his brain to process this.
jeonghan puts a hand on his shoulder, the same way he does whenever he reprimands his younger brother. “from now on, you will leave her alone. and if you so much as think about going to anyone with this — be it the police or the press — i’ll find out. and i’ll kill you, alongside anyone you’ve ever loved.”
after squeezing his arm, jeonghan walks out of the alley like nothing happened, and seungcheol looks at the wall across from him, his cigarette sizzling on the ground while he has to force himself to keep standing upright, his legs on the verge of giving out.
── LEVEL 05. BROTHER’S KEEPER
THE MOMENT YOU FIND SEUNGCHEOL WAITING FOR YOU OUTSIDE THE CHURCH, gaze hardening as soon as it meets yours, it’s like you’ve been punched to the gut.
the late autumn cold is harsh. the wind blows through your hair as you walk over to him, your gloved hands sitting inside the pockets of your black, wool coat.
it’s the first time seeing him since you slept together. you’ve been avoiding him — entirely unaware that he’s also been avoiding you, given the recent revelation made by your brother.
“hi. what’re you doing here?” you ask, plastering a smile on your face, but to your surprise, it’s not reciprocated.
“i need to know something.” he shuffles with his feet against some dark red leaves on the ground. “did you like me at all, or—or did you just use me for your own gain?”
the question catches you off guard. “what are you talking about?”
“the morning after we slept together, i found my bed empty. imagine my surprise when i get to work and i’m suddenly met with your brother telling me he’s been fucking you. all high and mighty about it, too.”
his voice turns into a snarl, and you look behind you to check if anyone’s around to hear it. “what? jeonghan?”
of course you have to ask, since mingyu could’ve told him as well — which is so ridiculous that it’s almost laughable.
“i can’t believe you. you’ve been having sex with them? not just one of ‘em, but two? did joshua also have you before he was killed?”
the harsh slap of your palm against his cheek causes a burning feeling to sting on his flesh. “talk to me that way again and i’ll make sure you lose your teeth.”
you hit him so hard that he can taste drops of his own blood. he’s angry enough to keep insulting you. “everyone was right. your family is a damn cancer.”
of course he wouldn’t like you anymore after seeing your true nature. you’re not sure why on earth you expected otherwise. “go to hell, seungcheol. you’re the same as all the others.”
in spite of the disgust he feels over your affairs, he’s not finished with you. in some way, he doesn’t want to be finished with you.
you try to walk away from him, but he pulls at your arm, keeping you in your place. “you keep up those appearances, you wear that fucking cross around your neck, people look at you like you’re some saint, only for you to go home and order people’s deaths when they know too much and slip into your brother’s bed afterwards. how can you even live with yourself?”
the words cut through you like a knife. you should just walk away and get him replaced by someone else — or ask any of the men in your family to arrange his murder, as you’ve done for others several times before — but you don’t. you stay in your place, pushing his hand off you.
still, you feel some need to explain yourself. “do you have any idea how many times boys at school humiliated me? i was stood up at prom, i was asked on dates just for my last name, i was filmed under my skirt which they tried to use as blackmail, i was called a whore for wanting to have sex with the first high school boy i had a crush on — and the only ones who stood up for me were my brothers. i could only ever rely on them. they protected me. no matter where i go, people always prove that they will never trust us, and that we cannot trust them.”
he processes the information but refuses to let his anger go. “so that gives you enough reason to do whatever you want?”
“i don’t need reasons to do anything, seungcheol,” you push out, your eyes resentful and teary. “i have the power to do whatever i want. if i want you dead, you will be.”
seungcheol presses his lips together, the image of you he had in his head so crushed — he liked you. he really liked you. “were you planning to get rid of me all along? i want the truth.”
you breathe out through your nose, feeling utterly sick to your stomach. “no, i wasn’t.”
he feels relief upon hearing your answer. allowing himself to lean back against the wall, slumping his shoulders, he finally lets go of you. a silence emerges between you, neither of you looking the other in the eye.
you muster all the courage you have to voice your thoughts. “i won’t have you killed, cheol. maybe i won’t even take away your job. but i hope you rot. not as if you’re significant enough for anyone to actually care about you, anyway.”
the comment stings more than the slap you gave him.
he watches you walk away from him without another word, unable to stop himself from looking at you until you’re completely gone from his field of view.
when you return home, the first thing you do is confront jeonghan about it. “you told him? have you lost your mind?”
looking completely unbothered, he continues to type away at his laptop. “why not?”
“me and gyu have managed to keep it under wraps for years. i sleep with you once and you tell someone in less than twenty-four hours?”
“different circumstances, though, right?” he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “if gyu knew you fucked that guy, he’d have done the same thing.”
“so you did it out of what, jealousy? i told you it felt better with you and you still felt the need to prove something to him?”
“he needed to understand.”
“understand what?”
“that you will never be his. that someone like you will never end up with someone like him.”
you know he’s right. you agree with him, for christ’s sake — yet a pang of hurt still shoots through you.
when you remain quiet, he clicks his tongue, adding, “not that it matters. he’ll be gone soon anyway.”
you frown. “what do you mean, gone?”
“well, he overheard me and gyu fighting, he’s gotten too close to you, so... it’d be too big of a risk to let the guy live, you know?”
clenching your jaw, you shake your head. “you’re not serious.”
“dad’s decision, not mine,” he says it as if he didn’t bring it up to his father himself, “i’m sorry, doll.”
whether jeonghan recognizes the sadness in your face, you’re not sure. even though seungcheol probably hates you to the bone now, you don’t want him to end up dead — this death, you cannot have on your conscience.
when seungcheol walks up to the front door of apartment, a white umbrella over his head to shield himself from the heavy rain, he finds the door unlocked.
hansol recently advised him to get a gun, since he’s been digging his nose into your family’s business to the point someone might go after him. he has to admit — it makes him feel a lot more secure.
with quiet steps, he slowly heads into the hallway, quickly spotting you in the living room, waiting for him.
despite parting on such bad terms with you this morning, he still puts his pistol away, not believing you’re here to harm him.
“how did you get in?”
unwilling to answer, you take the conversation into a different direction. “you’re a dead man walking, seungcheol. my father is gonna kill you.”
you fix your gaze on him, eyes red from crying, yet still managing to look as hateful as ever. he scoffs at your words. “is that so?”
“once he sets his mind to something, there’s no convincing him otherwise. you need to skip town. leave.”
“why do you care if i live or die? you practically told me to go to hell this morning.” he removes his coat, walking away from you, into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water.
you follow him, a scowl on your face as you try to make him see how serious this is. “did you expect me to be nice to you after you insulted me the way you did?”
“no. not at all, which is why i don’t get what you’re doing here.”
“i’m trying to save your life—”
“which i’d believe in a heartbeat, except my death would be pretty convenient for you, wouldn’t it? because of the things i overheard, the things i know.”
“yes. but i’m here anyway.”
“why?”
you momentarily break eye contact with him, unable to get the words i care about you out of your mouth. “you know why.”
he muses over your comment, putting the glass down. “only if you come with me.”
with knitted brows, you ask, “what?”
“i meant what i said this morning. your family is poison — but you could remove yourself from it,” he puts two fingers under your chin, gently making you meet his eyes again. “you live and breathe for your family, and it’s killing you.”
you scoff, uncertain whether you’re responding to convince him or yourself. “i can’t just leave.”
“you can.”
aside from the fact that he’s thinking about this way too simply, you don’t want to — at least, you don’t think you do.
the idea of leaving makes you sicker than the thought of staying.
when he continues to try and convince you, it’s as if you can feel yourself get smaller. you’re terrified of the life you’ve never known, the life you’re curious about but will never experience.
not if you stay.
“what if—” you pause, having to force the words from the depths of your throat, even if you desperately want to get them out once and for all, “what if no one ever loves me?”
he puts his hand on your cheek, offering comfort — you only see it as pity. “i promise you that someone will love you.”
it’s all too much. your system goes into overdrive, and you begin to suffocate in seungcheol’s small, warm apartment, aching to return to the familiar cold of the massive family home you grew up in.
the lump in your throat grows, and you give him a final sentiment before turning your back to him. “i’ll be fine. just go. leave town, please.”
the second you walk out of his apartment, he knows you won’t do it. you’ll stay exactly where you are.
he doubts he could say anything that would really make a difference. no matter who your friends are, who you fall in love with, who you’re ordered to get married to, what career you’re determined to have — for you, it’ll always be your family above all else.
in the days that pass after the conversation, you don’t know what to do with yourself. all your negative emotions are fighting for the reigning spot; your anxiety over seungcheol, the turning of your stomach when you try to think of taking him up on his offer, the hatred you feel towards yourself when you refuse to.
numbly, you sit on one of the chairs in the spacious living room, watching your father trying to keep the peace between your brothers, the deep orange glow and sweat on their foreheads primarily caused by the heat of the fireplace.
whatever their discussion is about this time, you don’t really care. they’re not paying attention to you, or the faint noise of the phone in the hallway ringing for that matter.
you walk out of the dimly lit room, taking the call, which is a security staff member at the front gate informing you someone’s there to see you.
when he says it’s seungcheol, you agree to let him in, very quietly opening the front door so no one else in the house is alerted.
the rain is still pouring down from the dark sky, thunder rumbing in the distance while you watch him pull his car up the driveway. you remain under the roof of the entry porch, crossing your arms.
the car comes to a halt. he runs up to you with his jet-black locks wet, clinging to his face.
“what the hell are you doing here? i warn you to stay away from my family and you come to the house?” you scold him, but he shakes his head, almost looking out of breath.
“joshua’s murder. we recently discovered a mole in the police force — a guy on your family’s payroll,” he explains. “he was seen trying to get rid of evidence. backups of surveillance tapes, containing footage of the night joshua died, which showed there was only one person who entered and left his apartment that night.”
“who?”
he’s hesitant to answer. “you have to believe me.”
“who killed him?”
“jeonghan.”
you flinch when he says your brother’s name. “seungcheol, if this is just a fucking way to convince me to come with you—”
“it’s not. i swear to you that it isn’t. i have the footage on my phone, i can show it to you, just—” he pleads, his hand somehow finding yours again. “come with me. you’re not safe around him. what if you’re next?”
blinking in disbelief, you ask, “are you here to arrest him?”
“no. i wasn’t born yesterday; by now, i know everyone’s in your family’s backpocket, meaning it’d never successfully hold up in court. but i wanted you to know about it.”
wordlessly, you go up the stairs of the porch, back through the front door again, returning to find your father reprimanding your brothers. seungcheol contemplates his next move, but ultimately decides to follow you, remaining hidden at the other side of the wall.
“jeonghan,” you say with a slight hint of hope hiding underneath the rage in your eyes, grabbing the attention of all three of them, “is it true? did you murder joshua?”
for the first time in years, your brother doesn’t look at you like you’re the light in his life. regardless, he doesn’t admit to his actions. “what the hell is he doing here?”
“answer the question.”
mingyu frowns, asking, “what is she talking about?”
“it was an accident,” jeonghan confesses quietly, knowing he’s got no leg to stand on. “we were arguing, it got out of hand, and before i knew it, he’d hit his head, and—”
it’s as if you can hear your brother’s and father’s necks crack as they turn to the eldest son.
“and you just left him there?” your father scolds him, at which jeonghan runs a hand through his hair.
“he’d already lost his pulse by then. there was nothing i could’ve done. i swear, if he was still alive, i would’ve brought him to the hospital, i never wanted anything to happen to him.”
your father makes a hissing, snarling sound of annoyance, anger and disapproval all in one. clenching his fingers, he tries to focus. “this can never get out. what a fucking disaster. i would’ve never expected this careless behavior from you, of all people.”
listening to him in bewilderment, you feel a tear slowly rolling down your cheek. “is that all you have to say about this? aren’t you going to make him pay? not even a fucking slap on the wrist?”
he reaches to pinch the bridge of his nose. “what do you want me to do? turn him in? think of the damage that would do to our reputation. we can’t reverse what’s been done. nothing will bring your brother back.”
“you can’t be serious,” you scoff, but to no avail.
no matter how terrible you and your brothers get, your father will always prioritize your status in society. that much is clear to you now.
your father’s blatant favoritism is showing, even in a situation as grave as this. even when his perfect son turns out to be the killer of another.
“shua was good. he was the only rational person in this family, the only one with a shred of humanity, and he took him from us. if you don’t get justice for that, i will.”
“and how will you do that?” your father asks, almost taunting you, holding that parental superiority over you like bait to a fish.
to be honest, you don’t know exactly what you’d want your father to do to your brother.
but you know one thing — you want him to bleed.
taking one of the dinner knives from the cupboard in the blink of an eye, you’ve already made your way over to jeonghan before the other men in the room have realized it, and you manage to cut his arm open, after which mingyu pulls you away from your older brother.
the knife loudly clatters onto the floor, blood from jeonghan’s open wound dripping on it.
“for god’s sake, take your sister to her damn room!” your father commands with that familiar booming voice, trying to instill fear in you, but mingyu finds himself no longer impressed by it.
he turns to his older brother instead. “say the words. say that you killed him.”
jeonghan’s voice remains quiet but harsh, his gaze fixed on you. “i killed joshua.”
“both of you. get out,” your father says again, voice terrifyingly stern, but neither of you are planning to be obedient to him this time around.
mingyu lets go of you, taking a step forward. “she’s right. he needs to pay. a simple wound won’t suffice.”
“leave it to you to act like her hero,” jeonghan spits with a tone so utterly jealous that it makes you sick.
“your eye,” mingyu suggests with a determination you haven’t seen in him before, especially not in a conversation with your father — the man he’s spent his entire life wishing would recognize him as his favorite. perhaps he’s finally realized that it’s never going to happen. “if you put out one of your eyes, it’s settled.”
an insane thing to propose, mingyu knows that. no one in their right mind would inflict an injury like that on themselves, but none of you are in your right minds, all fueled by hatred and shock and adrenaline.
“you’ve lost your mind. both of you. i will not have this family at war with itself!” your father’s voice echoes through the halls, followed by a dry chuckle leaving your mouth.
“it’s too late for that.”
“put it out or i’ll do it for you!” mingyu just about yells at him, taking his pocket knife out. finally, jeonghan has made a mistake so wrong that he’ll be forced to live with the consequences of his actions. finally, jeonghan will be the lesser of the two.
mingyu steps over to him, the knife in front of his brother’s eye, yet jeonghan still finds it in him to be the smug bastard he always has been. “even with one eye, you still wouldn’t get my career, you wouldn’t be dad’s favorite — you’re not even our sister’s favorite anymore. or didn’t she tell you about her and me?”
the family’s youngest turns to glance at you, and when you meet his gaze looking awfully guilty, something in him snaps.
using the pocket knife, mingyu pushes the blade into his brother’s stomach, twisting it around to inflict a bigger wound.
completely in shock, you watch jeonghan clinging onto him before his body hits the floor with a thud. seungcheol takes the risk of showing himself when he peeks through the door opening, eyes widening once he sees what’s happening — even mingyu looks a little out of it, taken aback by his own actions.
as your oldest brother bleeds out, color draining from his face, mingyu kneels down to hold him in his arms, tears running down his cheeks.
“hannie,” he cries, suddenly feeling the same way jeonghan must’ve when he realized joshua was beyond saving.
yet mingyu’s sadness is swiftly overruled by hostility once more when seungcheol comes into his field of view whilst calling an ambulance for jeonghan.
it prompts him to leave his brother to rest, his furious eyes directed at seungcheol. “you made a mistake coming here.”
watching mingyu retract his knife from jeonghan’s stomach to point it at him causes you to step in, pushing him away. “stop it. he’s just trying to help.”
but not even you are safe from your brother’s wrath this time, you realize when he begins to scold you. “how could you let him fuck you? jeonghan, i could understand — at least he’s part of the family, but him?”
seungcheol would be dizzy from the arrogance and disgust from that statement alone if he wasn’t high on adrenaline like the rest of you.
“gyu, no. you can’t—you can’t hurt him.”
“he’ll go to the press. he’ll expose everything. even you know that, right? what happened to trusting no one but our own?”
you nod, tears silently slipping from your eyes. “look at what we’ve done. jeonghan is dead. joshua is dead. how much longer before one of us dies?”
mingyu ignores what you’re saying. “that doesn’t matter. he’s not leaving this house.”
“just—let him go.”
“i know you have a soft spot for him, but i don’t. if you won’t kill him, i will.”
in an uncharacteristic moment of selflessness, you put yourself between seungcheol and mingyu, only realizing too late he’d already raised the knife again — and you feel a dull, stinging pain in your chest.
simultaneously, seungcheol is occupied with grabbing his pistol from the back of his jeans, using it to fire a bullet at mingyu, hitting him in the shoulder.
an overwhelmingly loud noise hits your ears as a lightning strike hits the house. everything passes like a blur; cheol watches as mingyu tries to rise to his feet, coughing up blood, one arm desperately holding onto the table beside him. you’re trying to help him up, not yet realizing that you’re bleeding out just as fast as he is.
looking around the room, your father is nowhere to be found, but seungcheol suddenly smells something.
burning wood.
“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—” mingyu tries to speak, out of breath, “did i hit you?”
“no, it’s fine,” you lie, and he can see that you’re hurt, but the blood loss is making him so dizzy that his brain can’t process it. “i’m okay.”
you’ve always found he looks so young when he cries, like he’s that scared boy you comforted during thunder storms when you were little all over again. taking his hand, you intertwine his fingers with yours.
seungcheol, who didn’t actually see mingyu stab you, suddenly catches the wound in your chest when moving to stand across from you.
he urges you to come with him. “we need to get you to the hospital. you gotta leave him—”
“no.”
“the house is burning. we need to go, it’s not safe—”
“i’m not—” you tell him, swallowing the nausea rising from the wound, “i’m not leaving. i tried, cheol. go without me.”
“if you stay here, you’ll either bleed or burn to death.”
refusing to let go of mingyu’s hand, you tell him, “i know.”
he glances at your brothers, both dead and covered in their own blood, and you look like you’re about to follow in their footsteps soon — but not if he can help it.
stepping over to you, he says, “you can cuss me out all you want for this, but you’re coming with me, whether you like it or not.”
not giving you a choice, he lifts you up, having a hard time seeing anything through the sudden heavy smoke in the hallway.
the fire spreads much faster than he anticipated, but he finally manages to carry you out of the front door, blasting sirens approaching in the distance.
BACK IN THE OFFICE, hansol sits across from seungcheol, looking oddly worried.
“the press wants answers and i don’t have any. you’re the only one who does,” he speaks in a hushed tone, slightly leaning forward over the table. “you were there. you made the call. what happened in that house?”
cheol closes his eyes for a moment, unable to stop the memories from playing in his head over and over again.
with a sigh, he asks, “how long do you have?”
® SANAKIRAS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. thank you for reading.
Two years living in a cozy hut in the middle of the forest, caring for your herbs and plants, felt peaceful to you. Here, your past would not catch up with you; no one would force you to be something you aren't. However, this peace lasts only until the exiled and severely wounded Prince of Noxtus appears right outside your hut and you are drawn into a game filled with intrigue, vengeance and (to your horror) love.
Pairing: alpha! choi seungcheol x omega! reader
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut
WC: 11,137
Warnings: mentions of war, wounds, cussing, violence, murder, mentions of knives and weapons, reader is being overcautious and somewhat paranoid about being discovered, fighting, mention of parental death, grieving, nightmares, mentions of herbs supressing the needs of readers omega, a/b/o dynamics, reference to abusive parental figure, lying, i dont know I think this is all? let me know if i missed something!
Notes: ahhhhh it's here! part one of orbiter is here and let me tell you, i was flashed from all of your likes, reviews and comments alone from the teaser. It made me so incredibly happy that I wrote the first chapter in two days and lord, did I had fun. Daisy and Seungcheol already have my whole heart and I hope you all will love them just as much as I do! I intented for it to be more of a slow burn but I think I failed miserably lmao. But nevertheless this is probalby part one out of estimated three parts because its too much to put it just in one part and I want to give myself enough time to write the parts with angst and smut so it does justice to the story! This is also more angsty and fluffy, the smut will come soon enough hehe. Like I mention i'm farely new to the whole writing game and especially to the omegaverse au so I just made my own concept and I hope it makes sense lmao. English is not my first language and this is not read by an beta, so forgive me for possible mistakes. I hope you enjoy reading and I would be happy to read some reviews and feedbacks! This is just the start hehe.
A/N: This story is intended for + 18 only; Minors do not interact!
Series M.List | Part 2
There is a man laying in your front garden - bleeding to death.
What’s even worse, he is an alpha who is bleeding to death.
The sight made you freeze mid-motion, and your eyes did not let the man leave your sight for a single second.
The scent radiating of him made you dizzy because you didn’t had an encounter with anyone in a really long time. Especially not with an damn alpha.
You forced your breath to calm itself and the omega in you roared furiously because it longed for attention and care. But that didn’t matter. It never mattered to you. You had more important things to focus on.
Panicked, your gaze darted left and right to see if anyone else could have found you—which, in reality, shouldn't be possible. You had managed to stay undercover for two whole years. Was everything you had endured now simply going to be over?
Your heartbeat only slowly calmed down as you realized the bleeding man was the only person around.
You thought about going into your hut again, forgeting about him in your front yard and continuing your peaceful day like nothing happened. But you knew already that it was a lost case.
"We always have to help for those in need, my dear." Your mothers voice rang in your ears and you feel like you will suffocate right here and now just thinking about her.
You really are your mothers daughter so you approached the man with quick steps, claiming your future with this decision.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
You left him lying with his fresh stitched up wound in your front yard.
At least he wasn't bleeding out anymore, though every few minutes you glanced out your window to see if he was still lying there and that you didnt imagine him in your head. Everytime you looked out he was still there, his chest going up and down with each breath he took.
A hard reminder that this wasn't just a sick dream.
But after all, your daily routine had to go on, didn't it? You had your plants to tend to; you would probably be sadder if one of them died than you were about the man in your front yard.
As you were out in your backyard, watering your plants and home-grown vegetables, your thoughts swirled inside your head, so loudly, in fact, that you failed to notice the pained, groaning sounds. It wasn't until you went back inside your cottage and saw the man who was supposed to be lying in your front yard instead leaning against your front door, that you let out a startled scream.
Without a second thought, you grabbed the nearest available weapon and now stood facing him—armed with a weed puller. It seemed rather ridiculous, but you were certain you could inflict significant damage with it, should the man even entertain the idea of attacking you.
He, however, breathing heavily, leaned against the doorframe. And would your heart not pound so wildly again, you might have thought that an amused glint flickered in his eyes. Yet he merely raised his hands slowly, his face contorted in pain.
"I’d rather you didn’t skewer me with that thing there."
"Have you ever heard of knocking?!" you demanded indignantly, not daring to lower your weed-whacker.
"I would have knocked if I wasn't one hundred percent sure that you were the one who probably put me back together.", he looked at you and your weapon of choice in your hand and nodded towards it, "If I had known that you want to kill me now after saving my life I would rather leave now."
Your eyes immediately went to his injured side and thousands of emotions swirled inside you. To your misfortune, the omega buried deep inside you purred in delight at the sight of the Alpha and you breathed in annoyed. You ignored his remark and the stupid omega inside you and wondered how the hell he is able to stand with this kind of wound he has.
The wound you tended to was deep, and… you took a closer look at him.
It took every ounce of his strength to remain upright. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and his hands repeatedly clenched into fists as if the mere thought of lying helplessly on the ground again would cause him even greater pain.
Slowly you lowered your „weapon" and eyed him cautiously before nodding your chin towards a chair. He was still hurt, you reminded yourself and that thought alone calmed you down even a little bit. "Sit down. You’re about to collapse again."
A scoff escaped his lips. "It takes a lot more than that to knock me out."
You stared at him, your expression completely blank. "Bold words coming from someone whose life I saved just today." You gestured toward the chair once more. "Do us both a favor and sit down, so my efforts aren't wasted and your wound doesn't reopen."
His gaze darted back and forth before—presumably—the logical part of his brain won , and he slowly walked over to the chair and let himself sink into it. His face relaxed almost immediately, and you couldn't help but scoff. "So it doesn't take that much after all," you muttered, and with the weed-puller in your hand, you took a few steps closer.
"Whoa, get away from me with that thing!" he breathed out and looked at you with wide eyes and you rolled your eyes annoyed.
"I need to look at your wound so it doesnt get infected!" you argued and held up your weed-puller, "this is just for my own protection."
"And who is that thing supposed to protect you from?" He asked while looking at you like you’ve became insane for even pointing with it at him.
"You. I dont know you." you answered defensively and crossed your arms in front of your chest. He didnt respond, only looked at you with slightly widened and confused eyes.
"What?"
"You dont know me?" He asked carefully and his eyes told you everything you needed to know. He doesnt believe you.
"Should I?" Sarcasm dripped in your voice and gestured at him to lift up his shirt. But he didnt move, his eyes still sceptically on you and you had the feeling you'll loose all your nerves with this man in front of you.
„Do I have to know you to see your wound?“ The annoyance inside you was clearly on the table now and to your dismay, an amusing glint appeared in his dark eyes.
„Demanding little thing, aren‘t you?“
Your eyes shined with anger and wordlessly you held up your weed-puller and even if it’s just for the joke or if he’s really scared you‘ll stab him with it, he sighed and lifted his shirt up.
„Well, thank you“ you sighed and let the weed-puller fall down on the floor while your eyes examined the neat line of stitches. You did a pretty well job for such a big gash and it didn’t seemed to be infected. At least one good thing that worked today.
„I‘ll make you a compress with some plants that will help the healing“ you mumured and made your way to your little kitchen sink. „That way you‘ll heal faster“ And with that leave faster.
You pretended to didn’t notice the way his eyes stare at the back of your head or how they wandered through the room. You tried to focus on making the compress until a question from him made you freeze.
„Whats your name?“
„I‘ll tell you mine if you tell me yours“ you said without thinking much and almost immediately cursed yourself out internally. You didn’t want to know him. And you certainly don’t want him to know your name.
Maybe it was the starved omega in you that made you behave like that. You made a note for yourself to drink a fresh tea of cyperus leaves later to suppress your omega needs again. The cyperus plant was a lifesaver to you. It help you with your heat, suppressing it until you almost had no problems with it at all, but it seemed the presence of the alpha brings everything down to zero.
Another reason why he needs to leave as soon as possible.
„I don’t think that’s a fair deal“ he only muttered and laid his head back against the wall.
„Are you a wanted criminal or something like that?“ You asked with a scoff.
He hummed tiredly and just shook his head. „Worse.“
You turned your head around and looked at him, truly looked at him for a few seconds. His dark eyes shined in a devastating sadness as he stared up the wall and the empathy in you screamed to help him.
That’s also a trait from your mother like the saying that you‘ll need to help someone who truly needs it.
And this man almost screamed quietly for help.
You blame your dead mother for your next words.
„You can call me Daisy.“
It wasn’t your real name but it was not nothing. His eyes immediately went back to yours and a glitter of peace appeared in them.
„Thank your for saving me, Daisy.“
The nickname on his tongue made you shiver and before he could notice you quickly turned around again, finishing up the compress. You just wanted to turn around to attach it to him, when his voice mumured again in your little hut.
„Seungcheol.“
„Huh?“ You looked at him confused.
„Call me Seungcheol.“
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
Seungcheol went through a lot in his not so long life. Being the only heir of the empire of Noxtus was one thing filled with countless duties, endless expectations and the constant pressure to become a king that is worth to rule its kingdom.
It wasn't necessarily hard for him. He had his loving parents and with that the perfect example how a kingdom should be ruled. He had his closest friends, always having his back and besides their mischieves in their younger days they've all become respecatble men and Seungcheol could see the bright future of him and his loved ones living happily in Noxtus.
Until Lunaria striked at them.
Seungcheol was incredibly lucky that he happened to be training with Mingyu at the time of the ambush. This allowed him to use his sword to take out a considerable number of charging soldiers—and he was truly naive enough to think that they would all make it out unscathed and put the enemy to flight.
That was seconds before he went up to the castle wall to see actually how many soldiers were attacking his kingdom. Before he saw how his father fought bravely against the intruders and failed. Before he saw how the head of his father rolled across the stone and the eyes of his murderer locked onto Seungcheols.
Lee Sinyoung. New King of Lunaria, previously a significant ally of Noxtus.
A fucking traitor.
Everything happened fast after that. He felt hands tugging at him and he saw the frantic eyes of Joshua while voices screamed at him to flee.
Seungcheol was never more confused in his life. How could he flee? How could he leave his people behind - his responsibility?
His friends were lucky that he was still in shock seeing his beheaded father because in no world he would allow them to seat himself onto his horse and force him to flee. He would rather die defending his country than flee like a coward.
"Seungcheol, listen!" Jeonghans hissed and the screams of dying soldiers bleeded in Seungcheols ears. He had to force himself to listen to one of his best friends.
"You are going to die if you stay here.", Jeonghan argued and looked over his shoulders. Joshua and Seungkwan stood before the two of them, guarding them so no one would intervene.
"You all will be dead if I leave" Seungcheol argued back and the damn screams of pain didnt stop-
Jeonghan shook his head and Seungcheol wondered if the day has come that his best friend truly had lost his mind. "We'll be hiding. All of us. You know they wont find us."
A pained expression filled Seungcheols face and Jeonghan smiled up to him while patting the back of Salute, Seungcheols loyal horse. "We'll be fine. Hide and we'll make a plan to get your kingdom back."
"Jeonghan-"
"Go!" His friend screamed at him as new invaders reached them and his friends immediatly striked against them. Seungcheol had to force himself to look away and what was even more important, to not look back as he made the decision to flee. He never hated himself more.
Fate, too, seemed to have something against his decision; for just as he reached the forests of Fyndor, two soldiers from Lunaria emerged, men who had evidently taken up the pursuit.
So, right here, Seungcheol had another chance to prove himself. After all, he was now the King of Noxtus—whether he was within his kingdom or not. He would be damned if two mere foot soldiers from Lunaria were to be the reason he ended up dying.
He chose to fight and the years of training with Mingyu and Hansol by his side had paid off. They were hardly worthy opponents for him, two Alphas who repeatedly attempted with sloppy movements to inflict the greatest possible damage upon him. They didn't fight with their heads; they didn't think the way Seungcheol did.
Minutes later, they laid half-dead on the ground before him, and Seungcheol trembled with barely contained rage. With a swift motion of his hand, he wiped his opponent’s blood from his cheek; then, with powerful hands, he took the helm of the shirt of the man before him and dragged him closer.
"What is he planning?" Seungcheol didn't even have to utter a name before the dying man spat out blood with a grin.
"King Sinyoung spoke of the great empire of Lunaria—and he mentioned you spineless wimps from Noxtus. You aren't worthy of leading an entire nation."
Satisfaction played out in the eyes of the man before him, and Seungcheol couldn't help but scoff, gritting the words through his teeth: "Your king will die. I don't care how long I have to hunt him down. He will pay for what he did to my people."
The man before him seemed as if he could not possibly be any more satisfied. He let out a raspy laugh, even as blood continued to trickle from his mouth. His teeth no longer appeared white; with a bloody grin, the man looked up at Seungcheol and simply whispered, "For that, you’ll have to survive today first."
Seungcheol had no time to react to the words, for a searing pain coursed through his right side. He immediately released the man, who tumbled to the ground laughing, and Seungcheol spun around just as a third soldier withdrew his sword from Seungcheol’s side, the blade glowing red with his blood.
"Does a king bleed any differently than we soldiers do, your highness?", the beta asked with a grin and wielded his sword against Seungcheol again. They both tripped into the direction of Salute and the poor horse was cut from the blade of the men before it turned away and ran into the woods, leaving his owner alone fighting for his life.
Seungcheol hoisted his own sword just in time with the attacks of the enemy, clutching his bleeding right side the whole time. He had to ignore the pain and then somehow stop the bleeding immediately. But first, he had to get rid of this runt.
He must have been guided by some higher power. Seungcheol truly could not explain otherwise how he was able to fight with such a wound and withstand the strong blows of his opponent.
But Seungcheol had always been good at enduring. Discipline had been a virtue of his father—one he had always placed great value upon.
"A king does not simply give up, Seungcheol," he reminded himself of his father's words. "He stands tall and defends his people. For they are our entire pride."
So Seungcheol stood tall, even with a life-threatening wound. His efforts were rewarded by fate, it seemed. In a moment of carelessness of the beta Seungcheol managed to slash his blade across his throat. Gasping for breath, the beta collapsed onto the forest floor and wasted his final words with false hopes: "Long live King Sinyoung."
Seungcheol stared at the three dead men laying before his feet and he swore by the sun, the moon, and the stars that he would unleash hell on earth upon everyone who had taken everything from him today.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
Seungcheol leaned unconsciously against the wall, sitting uncomfortably in the chair, and for exactly one second, you wondered whether you should go though the trouble of somehow dragging him into your only bed. A glance at his wound, however, settled the matter relatively quickly. You had absolutely no desire for it to reopen in any way—his stumbling around earlier had been risky enough as it was.
It was no wonder at all that he had fallen back asleep almost immediately after your conversation. He must have been in unbearable pain, and his body now needed a period of recovery. The thought of how long that might take troubled you immensely.
You wanted him to leave. You didn't need a wounded Alpha here in your little hideout. That would only bring you the kind of trouble you had steadily managed to avoid for the past two years. But you wouldn't kick an injured person out the door and leave them to fend for themselves. And apparently, he was all alone, with those dark, sad eyes of his, and that damn desperate look from before just wouldn't leave your mind.
So you made the decision to get him back on his feet as quickly as possible. Every hour, you changed the compresses on his right side and kept the tea—steeped with basil, chamomile, and thyme—warm so that he could drink it the moment he woke up. You knew that healing required time and patience—qualities you didn't exactly possess. As far as you were concerned, he could drink two liters in one go if there was even a chance that doing so would make him disappear just as quickly as he had arrived.
The sun was just setting, and you stood in the kitchen, gently stirring your mushroom soup, when a pained groan sounded from behind you. You slowly turned your head towards Seungcheol, who was slowly propping himself up a little, grimacing as he slowly rotated his head to work out the stiffness caused by his uncomfortable position. Your hand immediately reached for a warm cup of the tea you had brewed for him before you strode quickly to stand before him, in your other hand the weed puller, which still served as your safe anchor against this stranger. "Here. Drink this," you commanded, holding the steaming cup up to his face.
His eyes drifted from the weed puller to the cup in your hand and with raised eyebrows. He looked up at you clearing his throat and then carefully took the cup from you. You gave it to him in such way that your hands definitely wouldn't touch, and the stupid Omega inside you growled angrily because of that. It was already hard enough for you when you were changing these damn compresses, his skin burning under your finger tips and you had to stop a few times because it was just too much. You hadn't touched another soul in two years and now this.
Another mental note to drink an extra portion of your cyperus tea. You've already drank one a few hours ago but your omega just wont shut up.
Seungcheol took a cautious sip of the tea, and just as you turned around to continue stirring the soup, he immediately spat out the tea you had brewed yourself.
"Hey! I spent hours brewing that specifically for you, you moron!" you cried out indignantly, glaring furiously at him as he stared at the tea with a look of utter disgust.
"What is this?" he asked, coughing, and you shook your head disdainfully. "Herbs to help you recover faster. Drink it—now."
Only after he had completely drained the cup and took a deep breath, you nod in satisfaction and took the cup back from him. "Dinner is almost ready," you murmured, turning back around—now acutely aware of just how small your cabin actually was. For one person, it was perfect; but for two? Where was he even supposed to sleep? He was injured; naturally you would give him the bed. That meant several nights for you in your reading armchair, which stood in the back corner of the room. Great.
Seungcheol too seemed to be hyperaware of the situation he is in, as he stayed quiet and said nothing to you while you were preparing dinner.
A few minutes later, you set the soup down on the small table and sat down across from him, letting the weed puller drop beside your plate. Seungcheol’s eyes immediately locked onto it, and this time, you could clearly make out the amusement on his face.
"Don't you think I would have attacked you long ago if that were my intention?" he asked in a raspy voice; you merely shrugged, your cold eyes fixed on him.
"Better safe than sorry." You began to eat, but he simply continued to stare at you, not even glancing down at his soup. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you turned your gaze back to him. "Do I fascinate you so much that your brain has stopped working? Eat. You need to get well." You nodded toward the soup sitting in front of him.
"You haven't spoken to anyone in a long time, have you?" he asked suddenly, and, caught off guard, you narrowed your eyes.
"How would you know that?" you retorted defiantly, tilting your head. "Maybe I get visitors every week."
"You only have one proper plate." Seungcheol nodded toward his own plate, where his soup remained untouched, and then his eyes shifted to your mug. "You're eating soup out of a large mug, and I watched you spend nearly three minutes searching for a second spoon."
Caught red-handed, you pressed your lips together, then shrugged. "Okay, you've got me. But why should you care?"
"I want to know who the person is who saved my life today." His dark eyes fixed upon you, and were you not so stubborn, you would flee into another room right now and simply barricade yourself in. But this was your house. Your right to defend yourself—to protect yourself.
"There is nothing you need to know about me," was all you replied, taking another spoonful of your soup.
Seungcheol scoffed. "You really know how to hold an conversation." Sarcasm dripped in his voice. "Isn't there always something interesting to know about other people?"
"Not in my case." Your voice was colder than you intended, and you felt a strong urge to change the subject.
"Maybe you could tell me something about the person whose life I saved today." A shadow crossed his eyes, and you smiled at him triumphantly. He wanted to talk about himself just as little as you wanted to talk about yourself.
His teeth bit his lower lip for a few seconds, and your gaze flickered towards it before you swiftly looked away and finished your soup.
"So you don't get many visitors. I guess I'm the first. How long have you been living here?" Seungcheol tried again and finally began to eat his soup. You poured him another cup of tea, pondering whether or not you should answer him. After all, he would be staying here for some time, and apparently, he truly had no intention of attacking you, nor did he have any idea who you were. That was something you could work with.
It didn’t help that you were curious about his situation, too. How did he even got his wound? And who exactly is the man who is sitting here and now in your safe little hut?
"A question for a question," you proposed, setting the fresh cup of tea down beside his plate. Seungcheol nodded, and you gave him the answer to his first question: "Two years."
He nodded thoughtfully and continued eating. You sank back into the chair opposite him. "Who inflicted that wound on you?" You gestured toward his right side.
"Enemy soldiers," was his reply, and you studied him thoughtfully. That could mean many things. Nothing about him suggested any connection to a kingdom. He wore no armor, and nowhere was an emblem to be seen and the sword that he carried with him (and you hid) also showed no belonging to a specifical kingdom.
"Are they dead?" you asked with a quiet voice and Seungcheol's eyes landed on you again.
"Yes."
You nodded, relief flooded your veins. "Good."
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
Seungcheol couldn't figure you out. To begin with, there was your scent. You smelled of nothing. The Alpha within him was extremely restless, practically commanding him to find out what was wrong with you—why he couldn't classify what you were.
Then there was your manner. You looked after him, regularly changed his compresses, and refilled his tea every minute. But as soon as he spoke to you, your only responses were short and cold.
Seungcheol wouldn't exactly describe himself as charming, but he wasn't actually bad at dealing with new people. After all, he was a prince—now a king—so he had to be good at getting along with strangers. But with you, there was a towering wall, and he could practically feel you shutting him out. He just didn't understand why.
You could have simply let him die. But you didn't. And now he was bound to you in this hut, and he had to write a secret letter to find out how his kingdom was doing, how his friends were doing. Had everyone escaped? Had everyone truly managed to hide? Is Salute alright? These thoughts nearly drove him mad.
The only distraction available is a conversation with you—and that turned out to be more impossible than expected.
One question in exchange for another had been enough for you; you likely didn't want to know anything more from him, for you changed his compress once again, your body rigid with extreme tension, without even meeting his eyes.
The Alpha within Seungcheol stirred restlessly, and Seungcheol wondered what the hell was going on.
At least one thing was clear to Seungcheol: You didn't have the faintest clue who he was. If you had even the slightest inkling, you never would have allowed him to stay in your cabin for so long, not with how guarded and cautious you were.
So he simply had to remain quiet about his true identity, wait until he was healthy again, and then return to Noxtus as quickly as possible.
Once you were finished, you threw away the bloody compress and nodded towards another room.
"Lie down and sleep. You won't recover if you sit in that chair the whole time."
His eyes followed yours and confused he asked, "And where will you sleep?" He couldn't take a woman's only bed away from her.
"You don't have to worry about that," you merely murmured—and Seungcheol had never encountered a person as stubborn as you. And that was really saying something; after all he had often debated fight strategies with Minghao, and that too was anything but easy.
"I can just stay here-"
"Seungcheol." The sound of his name on your tongue made the blood freeze in his veins, and his Alpha stirred restlessly within him, as if he couldn't quite gauge whether he wanted to hear his name from your lips once more, or would rather never hear it again. Confusion coursed through Seungcheol as he tried to focus on your words.
"Please just go to bed now and sleep. You look like you're about to collapse again, and rest is what your body needs most right now." you argued with what almost seemed like a soft voice and the unspoken words filled the room. I dont need your worry. I can fend for myself.
Even though he found it difficult, Seungcheol knew when a battle was over and when not to push things too far. He saw the exhaustion on your face; after all, you had spent the entire day looking after him. That only made him feel more guilty about taking your bed now.
"One night", he croaked out and cleared his throat. "I'm not taking it longer than needed."
He saw how your nod and then gathered all his strength to rise carefully to his feet. It took him a moment to find his balance before he began walking slowly and cautiously towards the other room. Pain racked his entire right side, and beads of sweat were already glistening on his forehead once again, when suddenly the weight on his left side was slightly lifted and it became easier to walk. He looked down at you in astonishment, saw that you were now supporting him with your delicate hands, your gaze fixed intently straight ahead.
Wherever your skin touched his, his flesh seemed to burn and for at least a brief moment, the searing pain from his wound was somehow forgotten. Seungcheol’s alpha perked up with curiosity, and his entire attention focused on the places where your skin touched, as if it would leave visible marks.
All of this made absolutely no sense at all, why his alpha, or furthermore he, reacted that way considering he didn't even know what you were. An Omega hiding behind a massive protective wall? An Alpha freely asserting her dominance? Or perhaps a Beta who simply wanted to live in peace and solitude in her cabin?
Yet Seungcheol recalled that his inner alpha had never been so curious about another person before; and a few minutes later, as he laid in your bed, completely enveloped by your sweet lingering scent, peaceful sleep finally claimed him for the first time since the attack.
(While he laid in bed, sleeping peacefully, you rushed to your small, hidden drawer in the kitchen and quickly brewed yourself a fresh tea made with Cyperus leaves; and even though it was still scalding hot, you downed it in a flash—hoping that the screaming Omega within you would finally fall silent.)
Seungcheol woke up the next morning feeling much better than he had the day before. Apparently, you had already changed his compress; a glance at his bandaged wound told him everything he needed to know. Carefully, he sat up and, with soft steps, left the room, only to find the cabin empty. His gaze swept searchingly across the windows, and there you were, standing in the backyard, harvesting some vegetables.
It didn't take long before you noticed him. You regarded him with an appraising look, then nodded back toward the cabin. "Freshen up. I'll make us some breakfast in a moment."
Then you turned back around; apparently, your resolve not to speak to Seungcheol remained unchanged.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
"Is there a village nearby?" Seungcheols voice cut through the quietness of your garden as you tended to your herbs and plants while he sat on a chair, enjoying a few minutes of fresh air before you would tell him to lay down again.
That was your established routine the last week. Eat with him, change his compress, force him to drink the tea and them command him to sleep. You could feel his restless energy but the first signs of improvement were already becoming apparent.
He was now able to stay awake for much longer, and short walks no longer took a toll on him. Bad for you, because he started seeking conversation with you much more often.
"Yeah, about half a mile to the west," you murmured back. Perhaps this was finally the first sign that he wanted to leave. Although his wound was already improving, his general condition still gave you cause for concern at times—especially when he tossed and turned in your bed while sleeping, constantly murmuring various names. Nightmares plagued him day in and day out; and even if it seemed as though he was slowly but surely recovering physically, the same could not be said for his state of mind.
By now, you had started giving him tea with special herbs in the evenings to help him get a better night's sleep. It worked only moderately well.
"I would like to go there. I have to write an important letter."
Your piercing eyes bored into him. "To whom?"
"Why do you need to know?" He asked calmly.
"Because I don't need anyone to come here," you shot back, turning back to your plants.
Seungcheol remained silent for a few seconds before his quiet voice once again broke the silence. "No one will come. I just want to let someone know that I'm alive."
Feelings of guilt stirred deep within you, and with a sigh, you closed your eyes for a few moments. You would do anything to preserve your own safety, but Seungcheol had just barely escaped death. He had the right to let someone know. You couldn't take that away from him.
Your eyes turned back to him, and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to truly look at him. And he looked broken. Dark circles ringed his handsome face, his dark hair fell into his brown eyes, and everything inside you screamed that an Alpha—any Alpha—should not look like this. Most likely, it was your hormone-driven Omega screaming this at you but you allowed yourself to listen to it for the first time. Helping, that is something you could do.
So you muttered softly to him: "Give yourself enough time to rest and then I'll show you the village."
And apparently, that was enough for Seungcheol, for a deep sense of calm now radiated from him.
He joined you more and more in the garden. Three days after your conversation about the village you found yourself planting new herbs to your collection and a shadow laid itself over you. You felt his eyes watching you and while you tried to ignore his presence behind you it became harder and harder to do exactly that.
You sat back and looked up to him from the ground. His eyes didnt leave the herbs and he nodded to your bed full of your goods. "I also had many beds at home but none of them looked even close like yours."
"Is that an compliment or an insult?" you asked with a scoff and continued to look up to him.
A mischivious glint appeared in his eyes. "It depends how confindent you are in your doings."
"Then its clearly a compliment."
Seungcheol huffed amused and then, to your suprise, he slowly lets himself down beside you in the grass. You pressed your lips lightly together and before you could even think what the hell you were doing, you took the herb you just wanted to plant in in your hands and rambled: "This is vervain. It has fever-reducing and antispasmodic effects."
When Seungcheol responded nothing a red veil of shame settled on your cheek. What the hell? Where did that come from now?
But Seungcheol nodded encouragingly with a faint smile, then gestured with his chin toward the herb in your hand. "Does it have a meaning?"
"Good fortune," you murmured, and you were just about to plant it when the question burning on your tongue already escaped your lips: "Do you want to give it a try?"
Seungcheol looked at you with feigned surprise. "I don't want my wound to reopen.", a sarcastic undertone laid on his words and you rolled your eyes amused.
"I'll get a medal for you if you manage to do"
Seungcheol grinned in amusement, then carefully took the herb from your hand and looked somewhat helplessly down at the garden bed below him. "I've never done anything like this before…" he confessed hesitantly.
With raised eyebrows, you looked at him with amusement. "Just set it in the hole, pile some soil around it so it stands firm, and then pat the earth down. It's not magic."
"You say so. It always looks so easy when you do it," he remarked as he carefully placed the Vervain in the ground. You watched every of slightest movement, letting his words race through your mind. Had he been watching you plant every single time he sat outside recently? And why did that thought alone make you shy and restless? Gardening was your element. You knew how to handle your plants, and just because someone was watching you that shouldnt throw you off balance.
Seungcheol asked you a question that snapped you out of your thoughts in an instant. Caught off guard, you stared at him, tilting your head slightly in a questioning manner. Seungcheol nodded toward the planted vervain and repeated his question: "Is this okay?"
You looked down at it, and an amused scoff escaped your lips. "You buried it a little too deep." Carefully, you shoveled some soil aside to set the herb a bit higher.
Seungcheol snorted and leaned back again. "Well, seems like I'm a lost case."
"Now you’re exaggerating," you replied with amusement, gazing at the plant with a smile. "Gardening isn't about right or wrong. It’s about effort, patience, and gentleness." You gestured toward the many blooming flowers all around you. "It’s a give-and-take."
He followed your gaze and surveyed all your flowers, herbs, and vegetables.
"Except for the weeds," he remarked then with a knowing grin, and a laugh escaped your lips; grinning, you nodded. "Except for the weeds, yes."
He continued to watch you as you planted the remaining plants, before asking softly: "And Daisys?"
"What about them?" you asked back without looking at him.
"Whats their meaning?"
You froze for a few seconds before continuing and then you muttered softly: "Purity. Innocence."
You hoped that he wouldn't pick up on the sadness in your voic, but that was likely a lost cause. Especially given the pensive look Seungcheol cast your way when you murmured, "New beginnings."
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
The days passed, and Seungcheol’s physical condition steadily improved. He moved around significantly more and even helped you carry soil a few times—though each time, you scolded him to be careful about his wound.
He even started arguing with you that you should sleep in your own bed again and he would take the armchair, something you immediately refused, and it was only when you threatened him once more with the weed puller that he finally let it rest.
That really should have reassured you. The sooner he got back on his feet physically, the sooner you would have your peace and quiet back—though, in truth, you had to admit that a comfortable rhythm had slowly but surely crept into your daily routine. Apparently, after two years of solitude, it took only a few weeks to get used to having another person around again; and your Omega was happier than ever.
Usually, you never felt its presence due to the suppression caused by the Pyperus herbs; yet here, while the Alpha lived in your home and recovered, the herbs seemed to be only half-effective. It practically purred beneath your skin all day long, and whenever he was even just in your vicinity, your Omega would be happier than it had ever been before, much to your dislike.
While his body steadily recovered, his mind remained stagnant. You could clearly tell that normal, everyday conversations helped distract him from whatever was weighing on him. But whenever the two of you weren't talking—and you merely cast him brief, furtive glances—you would find him either lost deep in thought, wearing an expression so sad and desperate that it took your breath away, or watching you, as if trying to suppress the very thoughts that were driving him to the brink of madness.
One day, in particular, seemed to weigh heavily on him. He barely spoke a word, drinking the bitter tea without so much as a grimace, and slowly you found yourself teetering on the brink of despair because his gaze was so damn empty. You didn't know how to handle it, and you cursed yourself for being unable to simply ignore that damn worry gnawing inside you. You were responsible for the well-being of his body—not his soul.
But your mother’s words played like a steady melody through your mind, and you couldn't shake the thought that healing is a holistic process—and that, unfortunately, the psyche is an inseparable part of it.
It was evening, and you were just clearing away the dishes when you broke one of your own rules.
"Do you want to talk?"
His dark eyes slowly turned toward you, and you stood uncertainly in the room, unable to take back the offer now.
"I mean…" you struggled for words, then sighed in frustration. "You're having nightmares. I hear you murmuring names at night," you confessed softly.
His cold eyes shifted back to the floor. "Sorry to disturb your sleep."
"No!" you argued immediately, grimacing. God—what was wrong with you? "I just mean… if you want to talk. About the people. Then I can listen," you tried again, and this time, Seungcheol apparently understood your intention.
He was silent for a few minutes, long enough that you thought he was going to turn down your offer. Which was fine, too. If you knew nothing about him, he couldn't expect to learn anything about you.
"My father was killed right before my eyes, shortly before I ended up here with you."
Your heart stopped for a few seconds and sorry filled you, as you slowly approached the table and you sank down on the chair on the opposite of him.
"I don't know if my mother is still alive," he murmured, "or if my friends managed to escape."
„Was your village attacked?“ you asked carefully and Seungcheol nodded after a few seconds.
„Something like that.“
You pressed your lips together troubled in loss of words. Because there were none. Expect only a few.
„I’m sorry, Seungcheol. I can’t imagine the pain of not knowing if they‘re alright or not“
His eyes shined while he looked at you and maybe it was this screwed situation or that damn omega inside you that the next words flooded out of your mouth.
„I‘ve lost my mother too some time ago“, a sad smile appeared on your lips and you shrugged helplessly with your shoulders.
„I thought I‘ll die right there and now but I’ve survived it. I had to. The thought of continuing to live and to be a daughter she would be proud of helps me going on“
That was the whole reason why you allowed Seungcheol to stay with you. It puts you at risk but it would have made your mother proud.
„When did she die?“ he asked with a low voice.
„Almost three years ago“
You saw how he did the math in his head. That you disappeared into the woods after almost a year after your mother died.
"What about your father?" he suddenly asked and dread filled your whole body und you needed to remind yourself to breath, to remind you that he isn't here. That youre safe.
If Seungcheol noticed any trace of fear within you, he didn't mention it. So you gave him a strained smile and shrugged your shoulders with feigned nonchalance. "He's an asshole."
For your own sake, you had to quickly change the subject again, so that your thoughts wouldn't get caught in a spiral of panic once more. You already shared too much informations.
„Do you want to tell me about your friends?“ you asked carefully. „How are they like?“
Relief flooded you when you saw a smile form on Seungcheols lip at the thought of his friends and just the sight of him smiling again was enough for you.
Then he started talking. Started with a men called Jeonghan and went through them one by one. He told you about the mischiefs in their younger days and how the thirteen of them had an incredible strong bond. Even of Chan, whom he hadn't seen in a very long time, he spoke with deep affection, telling you how proud he was, as a friend, to see what respectful and kind-hearted men his friends had become.
You listened to him the entire time. Laughed with him and smiled with him when he remembered.
That evening, Seungcheol left the room with a smile to go to bed.
The nightmares returned a night later.
You were shifting back and forth in the armchair, trying to find a damn comfortable position, when you heard his pained moan. Almost immediately, you freeze mid-movement, waiting with a pounding heart for another sound, because perhaps you only imagined it?
But then it came again—sounds filled with pain and despair—and you didn't hesitate for a moment. You couldn't; you could still vividly see his sorrowful eyes, or that empty gaze of his, staring into the void right before you. You didn't hesitate. With cautious steps you walked into your bedroom, only to find that while Seungcheol was indeed still asleep, he was visibly tormented by nightmares. Nightmares that made beads of sweat break out on his skin and caused his head to jerk slightly back and forth.
You bit your lower lip uncertainly as worry filled your heart, nearly strangling the air from your lungs. Seungcheol murmured countless names—names that now seemed all too familiar to you. The thought of his friends, of his mother and father, gave him no peace, and you had to wake him before some frantic movement of his would cause him to reopen his wound. That would have meant the entire last weeks would had been for nothing.
"Seungcheol," you called out cautiously, taking slow steps toward the bed. He didn't react. So you tried again, softly calling his name over and over; and when he still didn't wake up, you took the plunge and gently touched his shoulder to give him a soft shake.
Not a second later, strong hands seized you, and the air was forced from your lungs as you were slammed against the mattress with crushing force, with Seungcheol looming over you, his hands pressed firmly against your shoulders.
You didn't even have enough time to utter a single sound and, breathless, with panic in your heart and eyes wide open, you stared at the man who was pressing you firmly against the mattress and who was likely still trapped in a nightmare.
While you were just fearing for your life, your Omega purred contentedly—and you wondered if life was really trying to screw with you, because of course he slept without a shirt. But right now, you couldn't focus on his well-built torso, not when his fingers were digging painfully into you.
"Seungcheol," you said in a harsh voice, letting out a slight whimper as his fingers dug into your shoulder, leaving behind a faint, stinging pain from the pressure. You had to get him out of this damn nightmare; he had no idea what he was doing right now.
Okay, harsh words apparently aren't getting anywhere. An idea crossed your mind—one that went completely against everything you stood for, and the mere thought of it made shame bubble up inside you—but perhaps now was the right moment to listen to your instincts? Your Omega was obviously feeling at ease, so perhaps his Alpha was present as well? Maybe you shouldn't speak to Seungcheol, but rather to the being slumbering deep within him.
So you allow yourself to close your eyes for exactly one second, before opening them again and murmuring in a trembling voice, "You're hurting me."
His grip on your shoulders loosened slightly, yet Seungcheol’s eyes remained glassy, and his gaze did not focus on you; instead, he continued to stare into the void, simply right through you.
"I know it hurts," you continued in a trembling voice. "I know what it’s like to lose someone—someone you thought would be by your side for a long, long time." You took a deep breath. "But you aren't alone." You looked deep into his eyes, and when you noticed a faint flicker—barely visible—it gave you the confidence to keep speaking.
"You are here. Safe. And soon you can go back and see all your friends again, but please, come back to me first." Your voice was still trembling, and summoning all your courage, you placed a hand on one of his arms. "I'm here."
A second later, Seungcheol stood upright a few steps away from the bed, breathing heavily as he braced himself against the wall.
You were still lying on the bed, your Omega disappointed that the sudden skin-to-skin contact had now been interrupted once again, and trembling, you exhaled one last time before slowly sitting up and staring uncertainly over at Seungcheol, who closed his eyes in pain and clenched his hands into fists only to open them again.
You stood up carefully, but instead of going to him, you went into the kitchen and leaned exhaustedly against the counter. You allowed yourself five seconds to close your eyes and catch your breath, giving your pounding pulse a chance to settle, before preparing a tea with soothing herbs.
The tea warmed your hands as you slowly walked back into the bedroom with two cups, where you saw Seungcheol sitting exhaustedly on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. As you entered the room, his tired eyes lifted to meet yours, and he opened his mouth but before he could say a word, you shook your head. "Just forget it," you whispered to him, your expression tense, and handed him his tea.
Doubting eyes sought yours, and when he finally took the teacup, you carefully, maintaining a respectful distance, sat down cross-legged on the floor beside the bed and took a sip from your own cup as well. You needed that calming tea at least just as much as he did.
You leaned cautiously against the bed, and—finding you really couldn't think of anything better to break the silence—you asked in a tentative voice: "A question for a question?"
It sounded like an amused snort coming from Seungcheol, though you could have been mistaken. Then he hummed in agreement, and you looked up at him seriously. "But only trivial questions."
"And what would those be?" he mumured with raised eyebrows, the cup of tea still undrunk in his hands.
"What's your favorite color?", you suggested and when he didn't answer for a few seconds you turned around slightly to look up to him, "Dont you have a favourite color?"
"Who doesn't have a favourite color?" he asked back and you shook your head confused.
"Youre the one who's not answering the question."
"Because you could ask anything and you chose to ask about my favourite color" he scoffed back.
"It says alot about a person!" you argued and placed your mug down on the floor.
Seungcheol only looked at you with raised eyebrows, as if he can't believe about the topic you both are arguing about. But then he gave up.
"Black."
"Thats not a color", you immediatly replied and shook your head and he closed his eyes and sighed excessively loud, but you saw the suspicious forming of an amused smile on his lips.
"And why is that not a color?" he asked as he repositioned himself in bed, now leaning against the headboard. And you had to grudgingly admit that you once again had a perfect view of his bare torso. Seungcheol certainly noticed this as well—but even so, it didn't seem to bother him in the slightest.
You quickly averted your gaze again and took a sip of your tea—which was still far too hot—and choked so violently that you had to cough several times, bringing tears to your eyes.
You looked at him again and saw only his amused gaze as he watched you, and you quickly cleared your throat. "Because black is merely the absence of light. And I asked you for your favorite color, not whether you prefer dark or light."
"What's your favorite color then, smart-ass?" he asked with a hint of a smile and a challenging gaze settled in his dark eyes.
You couldn't help but grin up to him. "White."
Whether it was the sheer absurdity of the situation or something else, you both burst out laughing at the exact same moment. Seungcheol closed his eyes with a grin on his face and leaned his head back against the rest. "You're really one of a kind, Daisy."
A smile spread across your lips, and you were glad he didn't notice your cheek turn slightly red as you held up your tea mug and took another sip.
You spent the next few hours asking trivial questions. You learned about his favorite animal, his most embarrassing moment, and countless other things that didn't reveal too much about either of you.
Eventually, however, fatigue caught up with you once again, and it was only a matter of time before you drifted off to sleep on the floor, leaning against the bed.
You were already deep in the realm of dreams when Seungcheol slowly and carefully climbed out of your bed, gently lifted you up with his strong hands, and laid you down in your bed.
One might think that a whispered "Thank you, Daisy" still reached you through your dreams—though that was something you would no longer remember.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
After that night, something visibly changed between you and Seungcheol—and if Seungcheol was honest, he liked this side of you much more.
You talked to him much more now, no longer giving answers that consisted of just a single word. You shared countless facts with him about your various flowers, and Seungcheol quickly realized that he enjoyed listening to you. He liked it when your eyes lit up with enthusiasm, or when you bit your lip in concentration while working in your garden or experimenting with herbs in the kitchen.
Seungcheol would let you explain which specific herbs were good for what, and one time, you even let him create his own tea blend from scratch. It tasted absolutely dreadful—and you tried your best to convince him that it wasn't actually that bad for a first attempt—but in the end, you both spat it out after taking just one more sip. You both laughed so hard that you had to steady yourself against the kitchen counter, while Seungcheol had to be careful not to strain his throbbing wound.
These were the moments Seungcheol liked the most.
But it wasn't just your behavior and state of mind that had changed; Seungcheol, too, was now sleeping much better and finding more peace. The reason for this was—once again—you; the words spoken that night sometimes played on a continuous loop in his mind.
Come back to me first. I'm here.
The words had a grounding effect on him and his thoughts; yet, apparently, they had also burrowed deep into the needs of his Alpha. The latter, it seemed, was taking an ever-growing interest in you, throbbing brazenly within him. By now, he felt an increasingly intense urge to discover what you truly were—even though Seungcheol was astute enough to surmise that there was likely a good reason why you kept it hidden. To his Alpha, however, that didn't seem to matter much at all.
But Seungcheol said nothing, nor did he ask any questions. The days passed in peaceful tranquility, and he wanted to preserve that calm. By now, the two of you took turns, one sleeping in the bed at night, the other spending the night in the armchair.
It was a sunny day and Seungcheol had just freshened up when a sweet yet panicky scent forced him to stop, and the alpha within him howled demandingly. Seungcheol's eyes turned to your figure, which frantically opened all the cupboards and drawers in the kitchen, searching for something but apparently finding nothing.
And then, finally, he caught your scent.
Finally smelled what you truly were.
An Omega - a sweet scented Omega had saved his life and helped nurse him back to health.
Seungcheol forced himself to hold his breath for a few seconds and rein in the demanding Alpha within him, but everything inside him screamed at him to help you, to dispel the panic coursing through your limbs and clinging to your scent.
You let out a sound of sheer desperation, leaning against the kitchen counter as you let your head hang, then ran your hand over your face.
That sound nearly brought Seungcheol to his knees, while his alpha pleaded him to help you shake off your despair—to take care of his sweet little Omega.
But he forced himself to pull himself together and carefully cleared his throat. "Daisy?"
You spun around to face him, leaning your back against the counter as if you wanted to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.
Seungcheol’s heart gave a slight pang, and he tried to ignore the hurt—but he wasn’t your Alpha. He had no right to feel offended.
Then you cleared your throat, and the look of desperation vanished from your face so quickly that Seungcheol’s concern only deepened. "M-Morning!" you chirped in an overly cheerful voice, turning back around to reach with trembling hands for whatever random herbs you could find to make tea.
But this time, Seungcheol wouldn’t let it go. Not when he could still clearly see how you were shaking. "Daisy, what’s wrong?" he asked in a firm voice, taking a cautious step toward you.
"N-Nothing!" you replied quickly, nodding toward the table. "Go ahead and sit down; I'll bring you some tea in a moment and change your compress!" You turned back around, and Seungcheol furrowed his brows.
Something was terribly wrong.
This time his alpha won. He stood before you with quick steps and gently grasped your shoulders, quite unlike the night you rescued him from the nightmare. He carefully turned you around to face him, and with wide eyes you looked up at him, tensing up and seemingly not breathing.
"Let me help you" he breathed softly and your lips trembled. "Tell me what's wrong and we'll find a solution."
He didn't take his eyes off you for the few seconds you were thinking before you quietly said: "My Pyperus herbs are nearly finished and I thought I still had some in here but I can't find them."
Seungcheol looked around the kitchen, which looked like utter chaos, before nodding. "Do you urgently need the herbs?"
"I have some today and tomorrow, but then they'll all be gone." You pressed your lips together, and Seungcheol didn't ask what kind of herbs they were or why you needed them so badly. He nodded and released your shoulders, but remained standing in front of you. "Do you think we can get some from the village? I think I have enough strength again to cover longer distances."
After a few seconds, you nodded weakly, and Seungcheol brushed a loose strand of your hair away from your face and murmured, "Lie down again, rest. I'll clean up here."
You offered no resistance, and the Alpha within Seungcheol purred at your obedience, before Seungcheol once again ignored it, watching as you left the room and closed the door behind you.
And so, here he was; with his Alpha, who seemed to have fixated on an Omega who wanted anything but companionship.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
Tears welled in your eyes as you laid in bed, reflecting on the situation that had just unfolded in the kitchen.
You had taken such great care to ensure you had a massive stockpile, spending days gathering these very herbs back then, long before a gravely injured Seungcheol had landed on your doorstep. Precisely so you would never again face the problem that was now slowly rearing its head once more.
You had known the moment you opened your eyes this morning that your Omega instincts were more restless than usual. Far too restless. Your pulse had quickened the instant you rose from bed; you had hurried to the kitchen with rapid strides, feeling such immense relief that Seungcheol wasn't in the room at that moment, thinking you could simply down your tea laced with the suppressant herbs, and then everything would be fine again.
Until you saw that you had only two left. Two. Which was far too few.
You racked your brain, trying to figure out how the hell you could have failed to notice that your supply was running low. After all, didn't you take the herbs every single day? Had Seungcheol used some when he first tried his hand at brewing tea? Had you been so utterly consumed by life these past few days—so distracted by the joy and inner peace you felt—that you had lost the ability to think logically and simply repressed the fact that your damn stockpile was nearly depleted?
And now he knew what you were, exactly what you had been trying to avoid from the very beginning. You squeezed your eyes shut in desperation, trying to drown out your father’s words; words that had been relentlessly swirling through your mind ever since earlier.
"Be a good girl and do what Omegas do—obey him. You will ensure that your stepmother and I can live a good life; isn't that what you want? Be a good Omega, Y/N."
Angrily, you bit down on your lower lip, and when you tasted the metallic tang of blood, you buried your face even deeper into the pillow. By now, it smelled far too strongly of Seungcheol—a scent that worked in direct opposition to the effects of the herb. Your Omega refused to be still. Refused to be suppressed. She wanted him. Her Alpha.
It’s a shame that you would never allow things to go that far, no matter how much you might suffer in the process.
⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
The next day, the two of you set off for the village.
Early this morning, you used up your very last leaf and drank your tea with trembling hands. You constantly evaded Seungcheol’s gaze, ceaselessly fighting against your hammering pulse and surging blood.
Seungcheol had no idea how to help, what to say to make you feel at least a little bit better, or which words would help you calm down.
So he said nothing and walked silently beside you through the forest.
You had pulled up the hood of your jacket, and the closer you drew to the village, the more tense you—and he—became. What if Sinyoung soldiers were there and recognized him? How should he protect himself with this wound and more imporant, how should he protect you in that process?
His gaze drifted toward you.
You, too, apparently wanted to avoid being recognized at all costs—though Seungcheol did not know the reason why. But it wasn't his place to know, anyway.
They each had but a single objective: you were to buy your herbs, and he was to write his letter.
Just before you stepped out of the forest, you nodded in a specific direction. "Keep to the right at the marketplace and go into the pink building. You can write your letter there."
Seungcheol followed your gaze and nodded in agreement before turning his eyes back to you. "Where will I find you?"
You pointed toward the center of the marketplace, where a massive tree provided shade for the market. "I'll be waiting for you under the tree. It shouldn't take long with the herbs." You adjusted your basket on your arm once more.
Then you looked up at him with a sad smile, and Seungcheol’s heart skipped a beat at your next words. "I know how important your letter is to you, but…" you hesitated, then looked at him pleadingly, "please don't mention my home, okay?"
Seungcheol nodded and murmured, „I'll just write that I'm alive."
"Promise?" you asked with a soft whisper and Seungcheols heart clenched.
"Promise."
You nodded in relief and then set off toward the herbs. Seungcheol watched you go for a few seconds, his heart already heavy with the weight of the promise, and then made his own way to the post station.
He did not address the letter by name. He knew exactly what he had to write, or to whom he had to address it, to ensure it reached his friends.
Seungcheol stood facing the wall, penning his letter in rapid strokes. He wrote that he was alive; he asked if everyone was well and if they had all managed to find a hiding place. He asked if they had heard anything from Chan. He wrote that he wanted to return soon, but that they needed a plan, and—
Seungcheol squeezed his eyes shut in despair. He was a king. He had a kingdom to save from this tyrant, yet he had also made a promise to you. And your eyes—god, your pleading eyes when you begged him not to mention anything about your home—how could he possibly do that to you?
But he did not know if his mother was still alive. He did not know if his friends were safe.
He remembered the screames from the day they were attacked; the blood filling the ground and the lifeless eyes staring up to the sky. The head of his father, rolling across the floor.
"A king does not simply give up, Seungcheol. He stands tall and defends his people. For they are our entire pride."
The words of his father ringed in his ears and Seungcheol made a decision.
He had to face his responsibility as a king. Even if it meant letting you down.
He wrote one final sentence and then handed in the letter.
Two years living in a cozy hut in the middle of the forest, caring for your herbs and plants, felt peaceful to you. Here, your past would not catch up with you; no one would force you to be something you aren't. However, this peace lasts only until the exiled and severely wounded Prince of Noxtus appears right outside your hut and you are drawn into a game filled with intrigue, vengeance and (to your horror) love.
Pairing: alpha! choi seungcheol x omega! reader
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut
WC: ?
Warnings: mentions of war, wounds, cussing, violence, murder, mentions of knives and weapons, reader is being overcautious and somewhat paranoid about being discovered, fighting, mention of parental death, grieving, nightmares, mentions of herbs supressing the needs of readers omega, a/b/o dynamics, reference to abusive parental figure, lying, [will be continued as the series goes on]
“now where do you think you’re going?” and getting pulled back by the hips when you start backing up from it bc it’s too big and you’re stuffed so full you can barely breathe and your legs shake as they push in even deeper
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warnings: mdni, 18+, pwp, dub/con, brief somno, dom! Seungcheol, dirty talk, praise, after care, oral (f rec), toys, multiple orgasms, ass play, anal, a hint of forced orgasm, Seungcheol makes a mess out of you, begging, Cheol is big in all my fics wdym, etc.
wc: 2.5k+
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
Seungcheol keeps his promise to taste you only hours after he has you fall asleep with a toy inside you. He softly spreads your puffy, wet folds open with his thumbs and gets an intimate view of your pretty pussy, already finding it glistening wet.
Your pussy is drooling, slicked with the cum he spilled inside you hours ago, the gooey wads of his seed mixing with the remnants of the orgasms he had pulled out of you with ease.
He had made you cum on his fingers and his cock while he stuffed your pretty ass with his favorite red plug. And fuck, it was hot seeing you stretched to your limits. By the time the toy was stuffed in your ass, you were gushing wet, and taking everything he gave like he knew you would.
It always turned him on seeing you be filled in both holes, letting him fuck you into the bed as you creamed around his cock with a squeal.
You took him so well, and you were so good for him, letting him push you to your limits until you were crying, keeping your ass plugged when he finally gave you a break, cuddling you close as he praised you.
But now, he wants more.
His eyes slide up, going from your cute, sloppy pussy, dragging up to your perfect tits, and finally resting on your gorgeous face. Your eyes are closed, your lips parted as you slept. You didn't know he was in between your plush thighs, keeping them apart with his broad shoulders as he gave your pretty pussy a good inspection.
He bets if he sank one finger in, you'd take him with no resistance, your cunt happily sucking his finger in, always a greedy little thing.
And he'd see if it was true soon enough, but first things first, he needs to have a taste.
He keeps you open, his mouth warm over your wet cunt as he flattens his tongue in between your syrupy wet folds, dragging his wet muscle up until the tip of his tongue flicks your sensitive clit. Then he groans. The sound deep from his chest as his eyes roll back. He can taste the mixture of his cum and yours sizzle across his taste buds, and he needs more.
He's lying on his stomach, face buried between your thighs, and his cock swells from the taste of you. You taste intoxicating, and it makes his tongue dive deeper, lapping up more of your sweet slick, and his slightly salty cum like it was dessert.
His arms wrap under your thighs, spreading them wider, opening that pretty pussy more as he laps at your sweet cunt. His hips move on their own accord, his cock seeking the friction he gets from grinding against the bed as he sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth with a low moan.
The whole time, he watches you. Taking in the way your eyebrows furrow in your sleep, your mouth dropping more as little noises begin to slip past your lips from his actions.
Your pussy gets wetter, your arousal coming in waves, and dripping like honey on his tongue. He's addicted. His tongue curls into your fluttering hole, and your gummy walls pulse as his nose rubs against your clit. He could do this for hours. And he has before, slobbering on your cunt until you were fighting to get him off of you.
He usually wouldn't stop till you were covering him with your slick. He wanted to make your pussy a mess, gushing with arousal and his spit as you begged for his cock, delirious.
The memory of it makes him groan again, his big hands pulling you more onto his face without realizing you were waking up, his tongue swirling your pretty nub like it was candy.
And you come to when you feel the knot in your stomach twist, a moan ripping from your throat as you feel Seungcheol lean up. Your eyes met his, and you feel his tongue flick over your clit faster, his hand keeping your thigh up and over his shoulder as his other hand reached for the plug that was still stuffed in your ass.
He pushes on the toy, and your eyes roll back, a cry warbling from your open mouth as you cum suddenly. He grinds the fat plug deeper, rubbing the blunt head of the toy in a sweet spot inside you to fuck you through it, and his tongue licks you clean as you fall apart hard.
He sucks and slurps loudly, lewd wet noises resonating in the room as he makes out with your quivering pussy with fervor. Your sweet syrup coats his tongue, cheeks, and jaw as your thighs twitch from the stimulation and your hips roll across his face in pleasure.
When he pulls away, he gives you a dazzling smile, his face shiny with your arousal as he rasps out, "Good girl, you did so well for me."
You barely have time to recover, to respond to him, as your breath comes up in short pants. He easily flips you onto your stomach, making you arch your ass up, displaying the toy to his hungry eyes as your legs tremble in the aftershocks.
"Now that you're awake, let me see-" Seungcheol's hands slide up to your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to see the way your pussy winks at him as you clench around the toy wantonly. "Yeah, that's right. You're fucking perfect."
You don't see the grin he has, but you heard it when he gave you the praise, his knees spreading your legs open wider as he places a hand on your hip, keeping you in place.
"I think your ass can take me now, don't you?" He doesn't expect an answer, especially not when he grabs the end of the plug, tugging it out a few inches before stuffing it back in. The movement makes you whimper, your face shoved into the pillows as he plays with you, smirking. "You want me to take this out? Replace it with my cock? Want me to fill up both of your holes with my cum?"
Seungcheol says this like his words don't leave your mind reeling, your pussy clenching around nothing pathetically as he fucks you with the toy, nice and slow. Your fingers curl into his pillow, your noises only increasing in volume as he reaches down to press his fat thumb onto your puffy clit.
He flicks the little nub between your swollen folds while grinding the toy deeper, making your eyes roll back as he watches your ass transfixed. "I bet you could cum just like this, huh? With me playing with your pussy and ass, I don't even have to give you my cock-"
"No!" Your gasp is paired with your hips pushing back, taking the toy back in while having him apply more pressure on your clit. You're already sniffling, close to cumming as you speak up. "Want you, want your cock, please."
Seungcheol smirks, having you just how he wanted you, and pinches your clit while he swirls the toy inside your ass. In a flash of white-hot warmth, he's pulled your second orgasm from you, taking you by surprise again. Your eyes roll back, and your pussy spasms around nothing as you cum with a squeal.
"That's it, make a mess, and I'll give you what you need."
He strokes hearts into your throbbing clit, prolonging your orgasm until you're dripping onto his hand as he gently eases the toy from your ass.
"You're doing so well f'me. Just need one more from you, Baby. You can give me one more, right?"
Your head feels fuzzy in the best way, your legs shaking to keep your ass up as you whimper. You feel yourself nod, and Seungcheol grabs one of your hands, placing it behind your back as he intertwines your fingers with his.
The toy gets discarded onto the edge of the bed while his free hand, covered with your last orgasm, strokes his heavy cock. "I'll make you feel so good, just keep your legs open for me. I'll do all the work."
You couldn't move even if you wanted to. He's got one of your arms pinned behind your back, your fingers intertwined, while your other hand clutches the bedsheets. Your spread wide open for him, slicked with your arousal and sweat, and Seungcheol could cum just from the sight of you.
His hand pumps his shaft, spreading your sweet slick along his length, mixing it with his precum as he notches the tip on your smaller hole. "S'good f'me. S'good." He murmurs and slowly presses forward, pushing past your first gummy ring, stuffing you full again.
You're hot and tight even with the prep, and it makes Seungcheol groan as your ass squeezes around his cock. And you're no better than him, you can feel every mouth-watering inch of him slide in, rubbing against nerve endings you didn't even know you had until he was splitting you open on his cock with one long thrust.
The whole time, he holds your hand in his, using it as leverage to lean his weight into his hips. He wants you to feel him hours later, to remember how it feels when it's him versus a silicone toy. He's so warm, pulsing with need and big. There was no comparing.
You don't know who curses first. If it's you or him when his pelvis hits your ass, bottoming out and leaving you dumb.
Seungcheol stops, letting your ass adjust to him. You're squeezing the life out of him; he might cum too soon if he doesn't focus. "You feel me deep inside, Baby? Your ass is just as greedy as your pretty pussy - heh - she keeps sucking me in deeper. You feel good, huh? Just like being filled, don’t you?"
Your eyes squeeze shut at the same time you clutch his fingers that keep your arm pinned behind your back, and nod your head with a dark blush.
But that's not what Seungcheol wanted.
He leans more of his weight onto you, grabbing your other arm, and keeping them both pinned behind your back as he drapes over you. You didn't think he could slide any deeper, but you're sorely mistaken as his free hand rests right next to your head.
"What was that? I asked you a question, Baby. I want you to use your words. Do you feel good? Do you feel me deep inside, molding you to my cock?"
You cry out, tongue heavy in your mouth as he grinds his hips against your ass, and stars burst all the way down to your toes as you scramble to speak. "Yes! Yes, oh fuck - fuck you're so big!" You're babbling, fluttering around his cock as the familiar warmth pools in your lower stomach. "Feels so good, Cheol! Please," You gasp, and his hand around your wrists tightens to keep you in place. "Please move!"
Seungcheol's ego is fed, the sick part of him enjoying the way you beg as his cock throbs with need. He leans down, placing a soft kiss between your shoulders and huffs a laugh, a teasing tone in his voice. "You just had to ask."
When he slides out, it's only halfway before he's rocking forward, picking up the pace with each moan he pushes out of your glossy lips. And you're stuck taking it, taking whatever he gives as he keeps you under him.
Every time he stuffs you to the hilt, the bed creaks, the headboard knocking into the wall as your toes curl in ecstasy.
And you can feel him everywhere. His thighs brushing against yours, his hips smacking into your ass until the noises of it mix with your whines and his grunts.
You can feel his chest hovering over your back as he leans onto the palm resting by your head. And the way he tugs on your wrists behind your back to pull you onto his cock. He makes you meet each one of his heavy thrusts, knocking the wind out of you and causing drool to form in your mouth.
He's fucking you stupid, your brain clearing out any thought that wasn't him or the way his cock pounded against the sweet spots inside of you head-on. He builds your orgasm fast, the previous two leaving you sensitive and near delirious, so it doesn't take long at all.
And Seungcheol can tell you're close with the way your moans pick up in pitch, your ass pushing back to take him deeper with each thrust. You're greedily chasing your orgasm and making him chuckle darkly.
"You gonna cum, Baby? You're milking my cock like you're gonna cum." He smirks, and you're proving him right as you clench around him, his words egging you on. "Go on then, let me see you fall apart for me."
You didn't even realize you had been waiting for his permission until he gave it. The heat in your stomach curls tighter until it finally snaps as you cum with a wail.
Your sweet pussy spasms around nothing, your clit throbbing, as you gush wetly. Your ass squeezes his cock, and your slick drenches your thighs and the sheets underneath you as Seungcheol fucks you through it.
"Fuck, you're making such a mess, Baby." It's the hottest thing for him, seeing the way he can make your pussy weep. It has his thrusts growing erratic as he lets go of your wrists to slip a hand between your thighs.
His fingers drag up your swollen folds, gathering your syrupy slick to bring it up to his mouth. When he tastes your honeyed arousal, it's the final thing to bring him over the edge. He moans around his fingers, his hips flushed against your ass as his cock swells.
And true to his word, he fills your ass with his creamy seed, his cock pulsing as his hips rut the gooey wads deep inside like he had done to your cunt hours ago.
And you take it all, letting him rock his hips into your ass shallowly as he licks his fingers clean with a groan.
When he slips from you, some of his cum follows, dripping down and mixing with your slick that's smeared onto your thighs. And you feel boneless, lying on your stomach as Seungcheol goes to clean you up.
He cleans the toy next, putting it back in the drawer, and finds you in the same position five minutes later, making him laugh as he joins you back into bed.
He's able to push you onto your side, you two facing each other as he takes your hands, kissing your wrists and massaging them to relieve any soreness.
"You did so well for me." He praises and moves on to rub your back, pulling you to his chest as you blink up at him with glossy eyes.
"You're a menace."
This earns you another laugh, and his fingers knead your ass softly. "You're irresistible."
You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes, melting into his chest as he rubs your body, massaging the soreness that you will most likely still feel later. "You're insatiable."
Seungcheol hums in agreement, kissing your forehead. "I told you, it's not enough. It will never be enough. I will always want you."
summary: when you let a younger man flirt with you at your close friends’ wedding, seungcheol refuses to let it go.
word count: 8.3k
tags: established relationship, jealousy, flirting, hard dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, dirty talk, humiliation (it's not severe but that's subjective), masturbation, spanking, blindfolding, restraints, sex toys, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, safeword/safeword usage (close enough, so including), light angst, unprotected sex, comfort, subspace, lots of aftercare and endearments, it's wild but not too extreme?, definitely ends well, cameo by keeho from P1H lol
*just to be clear, this is an established relationship between consenting adults who know each other well*
read on AO3: say sorry (#2 in the say it right series)
dededos
germansingergirl
turnnoffyourmind
prguitarman
annaxmalina
theartofmadeline
tangentwithtanner
ellievsbear
