Kekonoo

Yunho swung his legs over the edge of the bed, tugging on a pair of sweats, still half asleep as he padded barefoot into the living room to find Y/N standing near the window, phone tucked to her ear, her hand on her small but growing bump. She was in one of his old tshirts again, one that clung a little tighter now over her chest and even from behind, Yunho could see the tension in her posture. “I know… yeah, I’ll tell him,” she said softly, voice gentle but tired. “No, I’m not sure if it’ll cause any problems, but I’ll ask.” Yunho leaned quietly against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes locked on her. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched, listening, wondering who was on the other end of that call and why her voice sounded like she was trying so hard not to worry him. “Who were you talking to?”

Y/N turned, startled, hand still resting protectively over her stomach. “My dad,” she said, a little breathless, not expecting him to be up yet. Yunho took a step closer, eyes narrowing slightly, not angry, just on edge. “What’d he want?” Y/N hesitated, then let out a tired sigh. “Agent Park… she put in a formal request for full jurisdiction.” Yunho’s jaw locked, the muscle in it ticking hard. “Of course she did.”

“She’s not backing off, Yunho,” Y/N murmured, walking toward him. “He said she’s trying to build something federal, stretch it beyond just you. She wants you, Hongjoong, the garage, everything.” Yunho ran a hand through his hair, pacing once, then back. “She’s obsessed. None of this is about justice…. it’s about leverage and revenge.” Y/N reached out, taking his hand, grounding him. “He’s fighting it. He’s pulling every favor he can. I just didn’t want to wake you…” Yunho looked at her, her swollen belly, the worry in her eyes, the tired crack in her voice and pulled her into his chest, kissing the top of her head. “You don’t have to protect me from this. I can handle her.”

“But I can’t handle you going back in,” she whispered against his chest. “I just got you back.” Yunho rested his chin on her head, holding her tighter. “Then I won’t let them take me again.” Not while she was carrying his son. Not while Park was playing dirty. Not while he had every reason in the world now to fight back harder than ever.

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The store smelled like baby powder and fresh wood polish, the soft lull of instrumental lullabies playing overhead as Y/N trailed her fingers along the edge of a white crib. It was simple, clean lines, soft finish, but her mind wasn’t on the price tag or the matching mobile. Her brows furrowed. “Where’s it even gonna go?” she mumbled, more to herself than to Yunho. “There’s no room in my place. And definitely not yours and Jongho’s…” Yunho looked up from where he was thumbing through a stack of tiny hoodies. “Then we’ll make room.” Y/N turned toward him. “How? Our closets are already crying.”

He stepped closer, lips quirking just a bit. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll get a bigger place if we have to.” That made her pause, staring at him. “A bigger place?” Yunho nodded, voice quieter now, more serious. “You think I’m letting you raise our kid squeezed into a corner of someone else’s apartment?” He leaned down, kissing her temple gently. “You and the baby are mine. I’m not half assing that.” She smiled, but there was something hesitant in her eyes as her hand drifted to her stomach. Yunho looked at her again, more carefully this time. “You okay?” Y/N nodded, then glanced at the baby monitor display on the shelf beside them. “I’m just thinking… this doesn’t feel real yet.” Yunho’s jaw flexed. “It will.” Her hand slipped into his and he squeezed it. “So… you like the crib?”

Yunho smirked. “Baby, I like anything that’s gonna hold our kid. But between you and me…” He nodded toward a dark wood one in the corner. “That one looks like it could survive an earthquake.” Y/N rolled her eyes with a laugh. “God, you’re such a dad already.” They got it anyways. And Yunho insisted on carrying it out himself. The parking lot at the baby store was cramped and sun baked, the kind of place where cars were parked just a little too close as Yunho wrestled with the massive crib box like it had personally offended him, shoving, angling, then shoving again as it caught on the lip of Y/N’s trunk. “Who designed this thing, Satan?” he growled, bracing a knee against the bumper and trying to force it in as Y/N leaned against the passenger door, one hand on her stomach, the other holding two small shopping bags that crinkled softly when she laughed. “You said you wanted the earthquake proof one,” she teased. “Congratulations, it’s also apocalypse proof.”

“Yeah, well, it’s trying to kill me,” he muttered, breath puffing out as the box finally slid in with a dull thunk. He slammed the trunk shut a little harder than necessary and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Next kid item we buy is digital.” She was still smiling when she heard the footsteps approaching. When she turned, her laughter faded fast. Yunho felt it before he saw it, that instinctive shift in his chest, the way his spine straightened as he turned. Han stood a few cars away, leaning casually against a black sedan like he belonged there. His nose was healed, but not right. Still crooked, just enough to be noticeable. A permanent reminder. His mouth curled into a grin that had never once meant anything good as he looked at them. “Well,” Han drawled, eyes flicking from Yunho to Y/N’s stomach, lingering there as he walked over. “Look at this. Domestic bliss.”

Yunho moved without thinking, stepping slightly in front of her, his shoulder angling like a shield. “Walk away.” Han laughed under his breath. “Relax. I’m not here to fight.” His gaze slid back to Y/N, sharp and ugly. “Heard you’ve been busy. Shopping already?” He tilted his head. “Guess congratulations are in order.” Y/N’s fingers tightened around the bags. “You should go,” she said, voice steady even as her pulse kicked up. “Now.” Han ignored her, eyes still on Yunho. “Crazy how life works, huh? One minute you’re playing street racer hero, next you’re playing house. Jail didn’t scare you straight though, did it?” Yunho’s jaw clenched as his hands curled, then unclenched. “You’re done,” he said quietly. “You just don’t know it yet.” That made Han’s grin falter, just a crack before he scoffed, straightening. “Big words for a guy with a court date and a baby on the way.” His eyes dropped again with cruelty. “Hope the kid’s tougher than you.”

Yunho stepped forward fast enough that Y/N sucked in a breath, her hand grabbing his arm. “Yunho.” He stopped. Barely. His chest heaved once, twice, before he forced himself still and looked at Han like he was already a ghost. “Get the fuck away from my family,” he said, voice low and lethal, “before I forget where we are.” For a long second, Han didn’t move. Then he smirked again, though much weaker this time. “See you around,” he tossed over his shoulder as he pushed off the car and walked away. “Daddy.” The second he disappeared between rows of cars, Y/N’s grip tightened on Yunho’s arm. “Hey,” she murmured. “Look at me.” He turned to her immediately, the fury draining out of his face the second he saw her eyes. “You okay?” She nodded. “I’m fine.“

Yunho exhaled shakily, then leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. “I swear to you,” he whispered, “he doesn’t get anywhere near you. Ever again.” She brushed her thumb along his jaw, soft but firm. Then she glanced at the car, at the trunk barely holding their future, and let out a small, nervous laugh. “So… we just got threatened by my ex while buying a crib.” Yunho huffed a low laugh despite himself. “Yeah.” He opened the passenger door for her carefully. “Parenthood’s really hitting all the milestones.”

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Yunho didn’t know what to expect, sitting in that clean, white room, the fluorescent lights above humming quietly as Y/N laid back on the exam table beside him. His hand hadn’t left hers since they walked in, fingers interlocked, thumb brushing over her knuckles like he couldn’t quite believe he was finally here, finally able to be part of this. He’d missed so much already. Appointments. Milestones. Every little moment stolen by time, by distance, by circumstances out of their control. But now… he was here. The sound of the fetal doppler was faint at first. Just static and the rustle of the wand as the doctor moved it over Y/N’s growing belly. And then…..

whump-whump-whump

Yunho froze. That sound, fast and strong and steady, sent something rocketing through his chest. The doctor smiled, not even looking up. “There he is. Good strong heartbeat.” Yunho’s jaw clenched as he stared at the monitor like it was showing him the meaning of life. His son’s heartbeat. Their baby. Real. Alive. In there. He blinked rapidly and looked down at Y/N, his free hand brushing gently over her side, his voice thick with something he didn’t know how to name. “That’s… him?” Y/N turned her head to look at him and nodded, smiling softly. “That’s him.” The doctor glanced up, adjusting the wand again with practiced ease. “He’s measuring right on track. You’re in the final stretch now, just a few months left.”

Yunho exhaled like the air had been knocked out of him as his hand moved to her belly, not caring that the doctor was right there. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to it, voice a hoarse whisper. “I’m really gonna meet him soon…” Y/N laughed under her breath, resting her hand over his. “Yeah. We both are.” And for a moment, the world outside that room didn’t exist, no Park, no Han, no trials, no garages or threats or bloodshed. Just the sound of their baby’s heart and the way Yunho looked at Y/N like she was everything as the steady rhythm filled the room for another few seconds before the doctor eased the doppler away, wiping the gel from Y/N’s stomach with practiced hands and the heartbeat faded, leaving behind a silence that somehow felt fuller than before.

Yunho couldn’t look away from the grainy black and white ultrasound picture the nurse handed him. It rested carefully between his fingers, held with a gentleness that seemed almost impossible for a man whose hands were usually stained with grease, scraped across concrete, or wrapped around wrenches. He studied every blurry curve like if he stared long enough, the image would suddenly become perfectly clear. Their son. His son. He’d seen the earlier ultrasound pictures she’d slipped to him through the correctional facility visits, folded carefully into her pocket, passed to him with a guard’s reluctant permission. But this one was different. This one he’d been there for. The doctor smiled knowingly as she updated something in Y/N’s chart. “So,” she said conversationally, “how have you been feeling since your last appointment? Any dizziness? Headaches? Swelling?” Y/N shrugged lightly. “A little more tired than usual.”

The doctor nodded as if she’d expected that answer. “That’s perfectly normal where you are now. Baby’s growing quickly, which means he’s demanding a little more from you every week.” Yunho’s thumb absentmindedly brushed over the edge of the ultrasound photo as he almost laughed at the thought of his already taking after him. “Any contractions?” the doctor continued. “No,” Y/N answered. “Just those weird tightening feelings sometimes.”

“Braxton Hicks,” the doctor explained. “Practice contractions. Completely normal as long as they aren’t regular or painful.” Yunho finally looked up suddenly with a little worry on his face. “Practice?” The doctor smiled at him. “The body’s basically rehearsing.” His eyebrows furrowed. “So she’s… practicing giving birth?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Yunho looked at Y/N. “That sounds awful.” Y/N snorted. “It kind of is.” He frowned. “You didn’t tell me that.” She gave him a look. “You were a little busy being incarcerated.” He cringed, staring back at the ultrasound picture. “Right.” The doctor couldn’t help smiling as she continued the examination. “Everything looks excellent. Blood pressure is good. Weight gain is exactly where I’d like it to be. Baby’s measuring right on schedule.” She flipped another page on the chart before glancing between them. “Have you started thinking about childbirth classes?” Y/N looked at Yunho. “I mentioned them to him.”

“You also mentioned they involve breathing exercises.”

“They do.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I can breathe.” The doctor laughed. “I have no doubt.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “It’s a little more complicated than that.” Yunho nodded and stared at her with promise in his eyes. “I’ll learn.” There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in his voice as the doctor looked abused. “First baby?” Yunho and Y/N answered at exactly the same time. “Yeah.” The synchronized response made all three of them laugh. The doctor leaned against the counter. “I can usually tell. First time parents either have a thousand questions… or they’re too overwhelmed to know what to ask.” Yunho finally tore his attention away from Y/N. “I’ve got one.”

“Go ahead.”

“How do I know if I’m doing this right?”

The question hung in the room. It wasn’t about diapers. Or bottles. Or car seats. It was much bigger than that. His eyes drifted back to the picture in his hands. “I missed months because I was locked up.” His voice had gone quieter. “I missed appointments… hearing him… all of it.” He swallowed. “I just don’t want to screw this up.” Y/N looked at him, her heart squeezing in her chest as the doctor was quiet for a moment before answering. “The fact that you’re worried about getting it right tells me you’re already ahead of a lot of fathers. You can’t be perfect,” she continued gently. “No parent is. Babies don’t need perfect.” She smiled. “They need people who show up.”

Yunho glanced toward Y/N. Then down to her belly and his hand found hers without thinking. “I can do that,” he said quietly and his fingers tightened around hers. “I’ll show up.” Y/N smiled, blinking rapidly as emotion threatened to spill over and she refused to cry in front of the doctor. “I know.” The doctor finished making a few notes before closing the chart with a soft snap. “Well,” she said warmly, “I’d say your little boy is doing wonderfully.” She handed Yunho another freshly printed ultrasound photo. “This one’s for Dad.” Yunho accepted it and looked down at the tiny profile captured in shades of gray, smiling to himself before carefully sliding it into his wallet behind his driver’s license. Not folded. Not bent. Protected. Right where he could carry his son with him everywhere he went.

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The afternoon sun hung over Busan, traffic crawling steadily through the city streets as Yunho guided the Outlaw Customz tow truck through an intersection, one hand lazily draped over the steering wheel. Behind him, an older Kia sat secured to the wheel lift, its hazard lights still blinking every few seconds from where he’d picked it up outside Haeundae. It wasn’t exactly glamorous work. Three months ago he’d been in a correctional facility wondering if he’d even see his son born. Now? He was towing broken down cars back to the garage, stopping for coffee twice a day, and getting grease under his fingernails again. And honestly…. he preferred this. His phone buzzed somewhere in the cup holder for what felt like the hundredth time but he barely glanced at it. He had talked to Y/N before he picked the car up and knew it wasn’t her because she was at school.

“You’re needy today,” Yunho muttered, eyes never leaving the road as pair of red and blue lights suddenly flashed in his mirrors. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He sighed before flicking on his indicator and easing the tow truck onto the shoulder. The diesel engine idled as he threw it into park and looked in the mirror again at a familiar police car. Yunho groaned loud enough to hear himself over the engine. “Seriously?” He climbed down from the cab just as Captain Kim Junmyeon stepped out of his cruiser, sunglasses hooked on the collar of his polo instead of his uniform today. He wasn’t dressed for patrol. No duty belt. No cap. Just jeans, boots, and the unmistakable expression of a man who’d already lost patience as Yunho spread both his arms. “I thought we were getting along now.”

Junmyeon rolled his eyes so hard it almost looked painful. “I’m not arresting you.”

“Then why’d you pull me over?”

“You don’t know how to answer a damn phone.”

Yunho frowned. “What?” Junmyeon held up his own phone. “I called you six times.” He let out an exasperated breath before reaching into the passenger seat of his cruiser. “I’ve been looking.” He pulled out a thick folder. Yunho looked between the folder and him. “Looking?”

“For a house.”

That made Yunho blink. “What?” Junmyeon walked over and handed him the folder. “I think I found a place for you and my daughter.” Yunho stared at him a long moment before slowly opening the folder. Inside were glossy pictures of a modest two story home tucked into a quiet neighborhood a little outside the city center. Cream colored brick. Dark tiled roof. A small fenced yard. Enough space for a swing someday. A detached garage big enough for two cars. Yunho stopped at that picture a little longer than the others and Junmyeon noticed. “I figured you’d look at the garage first.” Yunho looked up without an ounce of shame. “Obviously.” He flipped another page. The inside was bright. Wood floors. An open kitchen. Two bedrooms upstairs. A third smaller room downstairs that would make a perfect nursery. His chest tightened. “You…” He looked back at Junmyeon. “You looked for this?”

“My grandson isn’t growing up bouncing between apartments.”

Yunho’s eyes drifted back to the photos.

“It needs a little work,” Junmyeon admitted. “The previous owners moved overseas. It’s been empty a few months.” Yunho continued turning pages. Inspection reports. Property information. Estimated mortgage. Distance to the medical school. Distance to the garage. Everything. He looked back up. “You really did your homework.”

“I’ve been a detective longer than you’ve been alive.”

A quiet laugh escaped Yunho. “Fair.” Junmyeon shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m not buying it for you.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

“Maybe a little.”

That earned the tiniest smirk from the older man. “I know the owner.” Yunho raised an eyebrow. “Of course you do.” Junmyeon glanced at the pictures. “They’d rather sell quietly than list it.” Yunho looked down at the pictures again as well. He imagined Y/N standing in that kitchen. Her medical textbooks spread across the dining table. A crib tucked into the little bedroom downstairs. His son learning to walk across those wood floors and his stomach did something strange. Not nerves. But hope. “You haven’t showed Y/N?” Junmyeon shook his head. “I wanted your opinion first.”

“My opinion?”

“If you hate it, there’s no point getting her excited.”

Yunho was quiet for several long seconds. “I don’t hate it.” His thumb rested over the picture of the front porch. “I think…” He smiled to himself. “I think she’d love it.” Junmyeon nodded. “Good.” He started walking back toward his cruiser before pausing. “Oh…” Yunho looked up. “I already scheduled a viewing.”

“You what?”

“Tomorrow.”

“You scheduled it?”

“You don’t answer your phone.”

“…Right.”

“Five o’clock.” Junmyeon pointed at him. “Don’t be late.” With that, he climbed back into his cruiser, leaving Yunho standing beside the tow truck, folder tucked under one arm, staring at the pictures of what might become the first real home he’d ever have with the woman he loved… and their son.

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The familiar rumble of the tow truck echoed through the open bay doors of Outlaw Customz as Yunho eased it into the garage, carefully backing the disabled Kia toward the service lift. The hydraulic brakes hissed softly as he set the truck in park and climbed out, stretching the stiffness from his shoulders. “Another one?” Yeosang called from beneath the hood of an SUV. “Alternator,” Yunho answered, grabbing the controls to lower the car from the wheel lift. “Guy tried making it from Gwangalli all the way to Sasang on a dying battery.” Yeosang winced. “Bold.”

“Stupid.”

“Same thing.”

Yunho chuckled under his breath as he unhooked the chains. The garage felt normal again. Music drifted from the speakers. Impact guns rattled somewhere in the back. Faint scent of weed wafted from somewhere. Hongjoong’s office door was closed, muffled voices leaking through as he argued with another supplier over the phone. Only thing missing was Wooyoung. “Hey.” Jongho appeared beside him, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. Yunho glanced up. “What?” Jongho hesitated just long enough for Yunho to know he wasn’t going to like whatever came next. “Your mother’s here.” Yunho groaned. “What?” Jongho jerked his thumb toward the little waiting area. “Been sitting there about twenty minutes.”

“You couldn’t have lied and said I died?”

“I thought about it.”

“And?”

“Didn’t think she’d believe me.”

Yunho rubbed both hands down his face before muttering a quiet “fuck” under his breath. “I swear she has perfect timing.” He hesitated, contemplating just leaving, before walking towards the little wait area. And sure enough… his mother was sitting exactly where Jongho had said. Perfect posture. Expensive handbag resting beside her. Not a single hair out of place. She looked up as soon as he stepped into the waiting area. For a second… neither them spoke until Yunho broke the silence. “What do you want?” His mother stood slowly, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her blouse. “Hello to you too.”

“You haven’t seen me since before I got arrested.”

“I know.”

He folded his arms. “So.” His voice was flat and unwelcoming. “What do you want?” She studied him for a long moment. “I wanted to see how you were doing.” Yunho laughed once. A short humorless sound. “Really?” He looked unconvinced as she nodded. “I heard you were released. And… I wanted to see how…… how the baby is doing.” Something in Yunho’s expression changed instantly. eyes hardening. “Why?” She blinked surprised. “What?”

“Why do you even care?”

“Yunho…”

“No.” He took a step closer. “You barely see me.” His voice stayed calm. Which somehow made it worse. “You disappear for months, years. You didn’t even know I was in jail until you heard it from your snotty ass friends.” She looked away. “You don’t get to suddenly show up…” His jaw clenched. “and ask how my son is doing.”

“My grandson,” she corrected quietly.

Yunho scoffed. “My son.” Silence stretched between them and his mother folded her arms. “I was trying to make an effort.”

“No. You were trying to ease your conscience.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’ve always cared about you.”

He laughed again. “Could’ve fooled me.” The waiting area seemed to shrink around them. Mechanics working nearby instinctively kept their distance. Even the music suddenly felt too loud as his mother’s patience finally snapped. “I came here because I was worried.” Yunho narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ve watched you throw your life away for years since your father died. I’ve watched you race cars. I’ve watched you get arrested.” She didn’t say nearly die. Because of course she wasn’t there for that. “And now you’ve gotten some girl pregnant.” Yunho’s eyes flashed. “Watch your mouth.”

“I’m simply saying…” Her chin lifted. “how sure are you that baby is even yours?” Silence. Complete and utter silence. Even the impact gun in the back seemed to stop as Yunho stared at her. Not angry. Not shouting. Just… staring he’d never seen her before. His mother continued before realizing she’d gone too far. “You’ve been in and out of trouble. You were always doing something illegal for Hongjoong. I don’t even think you were exactly serious until she got knocked up. You honestly expect me to believe she…” The sentence never finished because Yunho stepped forward just close enough that she had to look up directly into his eyes. His voice was barely above a whisper. “If you ever…” He swallowed once. “ever question Y/N’s character again… or my son’s…” His jaw tightened so hard it hurt. “…you won’t have to worry about seeing him.” His mother’s face paled. “Yunho…” His voice remained frighteningly calm. “No.” He shook his head. “You don’t get to disrespect the woman who’s stood beside me through every damn thing I’ve put her through. You don’t get to question her. And you sure as hell don’t get to question my child.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“You did.” He cut her off. “You knew exactly what you were saying.” A heavy silence settled between them again before Yunho stepped back and pointed toward the front. “You should go.” She looked at him in disbelief. “You’re asking me to leave?” His expression never softened. “I’m telling you. You want a relationship with me someday?” He shook his head slowly. “Then the next time you walk into this garage…” His voice cracked just slightly. “you’d better come prepared to apologize to the mother of my son.” Without another word, he turned his back on her and walked toward the service bays, never looking back as his mother remained frozen for several long seconds before quietly picking up her purse.

As she reached the front entrance, Jongho watched her leave before he looked toward Yunho. He hadn’t gone back to work. He was standing beside his rebuilt car, one hand resting silently on its roof. Head lowered. Trying very hard not to let the one person who still knew exactly how to hurt him see that she’d succeeded.

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The familiar click of Yunho’s new key echoed through the apartment just after eight that evening. The place smelled like fried chicken, rice, and whatever spicy noodles Seonghwa had insisted on ordering because med school stole his soul that day. Y/N was curled sideways on the couch in an oversized sweatshirt that barely hid the gentle curve of her stomach now. Anatomy notes were spread across the coffee table between half empty takeout containers, while Seonghwa sat cross legged on the floor, chopsticks in one hand and a pathology textbook propped against his knee. Yunho rounded the corner a second later, the house folder tucked beneath one arm. He walked over and dropped the folder onto the kitchen counter without explanation before walking towards where Y/N was, leaning down as she smiled up at him. “There you are.” He cupped her face gently.

“Hi, baby.” His lips brushed hers, the kind of kiss he’d given her dozens of times. But… something about this one felt… practiced. Like he was making sure she couldn’t tell something was wrong. She kissed him back anyway. “You eat?”

“Not yet.”

“I stole your dumplings.”

“I figured.” His smile came easily. Almost too easily. Y/N watched his eyes. They looked tired. Not physically. But emotionally. He reached down, resting his hand against her stomach. “How’re my favorite people?”

“Our son kicked me twice during pharmacology.”

He smiled a little more genuinely at that. “Smart kid.”

“He was probably protesting.”

“Already takes after his mother.” Yunho chuckled, shaking his head before kissing the top of her head. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“You sure you don’t want to eat first?”

“I’ll eat after.” He squeezed her shoulder gently before grabbing a clean towel from the hallway closet. “I won’t be long.” The bathroom door closed a moment later and Seonghwa slowly lowered his chopsticks. “Someone definitely pissed him off.” Y/N didn’t answer right away. She was still staring toward the hallway where the bathroom door had just closed, listening as the shower turned on a few seconds later and the steady rush of water filled the apartment. “Yeah,” she murmured quietly. Seonghwa watched her for a moment before setting his takeout container on the coffee table. “You noticed it too?” She looked over at him. “I noticed it before he even kissed me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“He smiled.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

“No.” She shook her head slowly. “It’s the kind of smile he puts on when he’s trying to convince me everything’s okay.” Seonghwa leaned back against the couch. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.” She rested one hand over her stomach, absentmindedly rubbing small circles. “You weren’t. He came in, kissed me…” she said softly. “But his shoulders never relaxed.” Her eyes drifted toward the hallway again. “When Yunho walks through that door…” she smiled faintly, “…he usually melts.”

“What do you mean?”

“He lets go.” She shrugged. “Whatever happened at the garage stays there. He becomes…” she searched for the right word before smiling to herself. “home.” The word lingered between them. “But tonight?” Seonghwa asked. “He brought whatever happened with him.” Silence settled over the apartment for a few seconds. Then Seonghwa’s eyes landed on the thick manila folder sitting untouched on the kitchen counter. “What’s with the folder?” Y/N followed his gaze. “I don’t know.”

“He practically threw it on the counter.”

“I noticed.”

Neither of them moved to open it because it wasn’t theirs to open. Seonghwa sighed. “You gonna ask him?” She thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. “Not right away.”

“Really?”

She smiled knowingly. “If I ask him the second he walks out of that shower…He’ll say he’s fine. I’ll let him eat first.” She glanced toward the hallway again. “Then I’ll wait until we’re in bed.” Seonghwa groaned dramatically. “You’re terrifying.”

“Why?”

“Because you already have a strategy.”

She grinned. “I’ve been dating Yunho for almost a year. You don’t survive that without learning how he works.”

“And how does he work?”

She didn’t even hesitate. “He’ll carry the weight of the world if he thinks it’ll spare someone he loves.” Her smile softened. “But he forgets…” She looked down at her stomach before looking back toward the bathroom. “he doesn’t have to carry it alone anymore.” From down the hallway, the shower shut off and both of them looked toward the bathroom door as Seonghwa picked his chopsticks back up. “Five thousand won says it was either Bae or his mother.” The bathroom door opened a minute later, a cloud of warm steam drifting into the hallway ahead of Yunho. His damp hair was pushed back from his forehead, still dripping onto the broad line of his shoulders. A white towel sat low around his waist, another smaller one draped over the back of his neck as he scrubbed absently at the ends of his hair while walking toward the living room. He looked… cleaner. Calmer. But definitely not lighter. Whatever had happened that afternoon was still sitting somewhere behind his eyes.

Without saying much, he wandered into the kitchen, grabbed the container of dumplings Y/N had admitted to stealing from, plucked one out with the chopsticks, and immediately frowned. “You really did eat all the good ones.” Y/N smiled. “I warned you.” He took another dumpling before padding into the living room and dropping onto the couch beside her with a tired sigh. The cushions dipped beneath his weight and Y/N leaned into his side, resting against his shoulder. Yunho kissed the top of her head without looking away from his food. Still quiet. Still somewhere else. He balanced the takeout container on one thigh, reached across the coffee table for the remote, and clicked the TV on. A rerun of some drama filled the room with exaggerated sound effects and laughter. Normally… Yunho would’ve made some sarcastic comment within thirty seconds about how the romance in those show was completely unrealistic. Instead, he simply stared at the screen while absentmindedly eating another dumpling.

Y/N and Seonghwa exchanged a quick glance over the edge of their takeout containers because Yunho wasn’t watching TV. He was looking through it. Finally, Seonghwa stood, gathering his empty container. “Well…” He stretched. “I’ve got about three chapters of pathology waiting to ruin my night.” He carried his trash into the kitchen before disappearing down the hallway toward his bedroom, the door clicking shut behind him. Yunho finished the last dumpling and set the empty container on the coffee table, leaning back into the couch with a long exhale as Y/N watched him from the corner of her eye. He hadn’t said ten words since getting out of the shower. After a few minutes, his hand found hers where it rested beside her on the cushion, fingers lacing through hers.

The silence lingered after Seonghwa went to his room. Yunho’s thumb continued its lazy circles across the back of her hand while the television played to a room that wasn’t really watching it. Y/N waited. She’d meant it when she told Seonghwa she’d let him eat first. Now that he had, she finally turned her head toward the kitchen and her eyes landed on the thick folder still sitting exactly where he’d dropped it. “Is that what has you trying to pretend like you’re not pissed?” Yunho’s eyes followed her gaze. Then he looked back at her, a short laugh escaping him. “Okay,” he said, holding up a finger, “first of all…” A crooked grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I’m not that pissed.” Y/N gave him a look and he immediately sighed. “Alright, maybe a little.”

“A little?”

“Medium pissed.”

She snorted. “That’s more honest.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck before nodding toward the folder. “And second…” He pointed at it. “that has nothing to do with it.” She looked from him to the folder again. “Then what’s in it?” Yunho leaned forward, reaching across the coffee table for his drink before taking a slow sip. “Your dad pulled me over today.”

“What?”

“He lit me up while I was driving the tow truck.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious?”

“I thought I was getting arrested again.”

She covered her mouth to hide a laugh. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing!” He looked genuinely offended. “I was literally just towing someone’s Kia.” She laughed harder. “He said I wasn’t answering my phone.”

“Were you?”

“No.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and Yunho smiled despite himself. “He’d apparently been calling me all afternoon. Wanted to give the envelope.” Y/N looked back at it. “What is it?” Yunho stood from the couch, walking to the kitchen counter before picking up the folder and walking back over, sitting back beside her and resting it carefully across both of their laps. Y/N stared at it a moment before opening the flap. The first glossy picture slid into view. A house. She froze. “Yunho…” He watched her face instead of the pictures. “Your dad found it.” She slowly pulled the picture free. Then another. Then a third. The backyard. The kitchen. The detached garage. A small bedroom with sunlight spilling through the window. She didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing until Yunho gently squeezed her hand.

“He said…” Yunho spoke quietly, “…he doesn’t want his grandson growing up split between apartments.” Y/N looked up at him. “My dad… found this?” Yunho nodded. “He’d already checked everything.” She flipped through the rest of the pictures. “It needs a little work.” She smiled faintly. “I don’t care.” Her fingers lingered on the picture of the smaller bedroom. “This would make a perfect nursery.” Yunho’s smile softened. “That’s exactly what I thought.” She looked over at him. “So…” A grin slowly spread across her face. “this isn’t why you’re pretending you’re not angry.” He shook his head. “No.”

“Then what happened?”

The smile faded from his face and his eyes dropped back to the folder. For several seconds he said nothing. Then he let out a slow sigh. “My mom came to the garage.” Y/N’s expression changed immediately and her shoulders stiffened. “What did she want?” Yunho gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Apparently… to see how I was doing.” He looked down at his hands. “She asked about the baby. And I asked her why she cared. Then of course we started arguing.” Y/N reached over, resting her hand on his forearm. “What did she say?” Yunho’s jaw tightened and he looked away. “She asked me if I was sure he was mine.” The room went completely still as Y/N’s hand slowly slipped from his arm to his fingers, intertwining with them. She didn’t speak right away. Instead, she simply held his hand tighter. And when she finally did speak, her voice was soft. “What did you tell her?”

A small smile appeared on Yunho’s face. Not amused but…. proud. “I told her…” He looked down at the gentle curve of her stomach before meeting Y/N’s eyes again. “if she ever questioned you or my son again…” His thumb brushed across her knuckles. “she’d never get to know either of you.” Y/N stared at him for a long moment. Then, without saying a word, she leaned over and wrapped both arms around him and when he held her back, his shoulders finally relaxed.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The next day arrived wrapped in one of those rare Busan mornings where the sky seemed determined to apologize for every rainy day that had come before. Bright blue stretched endlessly overhead, the late afternoon fall sun glinting off the harbor in the distance while a breeze rolled in from the water. Y/N stood in front of the bedroom mirror, smoothing her hands over the front of a simple black dress. It fit differently now. The swell beneath the fabric was impossible to ignore. She caught herself smiling. Not because of the dress. But because somewhere beneath it, their son shifted. A tiny kick greeting her hand as Yunho stepped out of the closet after pulling on a charcoal tshirt, faded jeans and white converse. His damp hair still carried the scent of shampoo as he adjusted the watch around his wrist before catching her reflection in the mirror. He walked over without another word, arms slipping around her waist from behind, careful of her stomach, before one hand settled gently over the little kick he’d already begun recognizing. “He kick again?”

“Twice.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Nearly twenty minutes later, Yunho’s rebuilt car rolled into a quiet residential neighborhood tucked against the hills overlooking Busan. The streets were lined with mature maple trees, their leaves dancing softly in the breeze. Kids rode bicycles. Someone walked a golden retriever. An elderly couple sat on their front porch drinking warm tea. It felt… peaceful. Y/N noticed Yunho easing off the accelerator. “What?” He looked out the windshield. “I don’t think I’ve ever lived somewhere this quiet.” She reached over, intertwining their fingers across the center console. “I think that’s the point.”

He smiled. “Yeah.” They rounded one final corner. “There,” Y/N said quietly. At the end of the street sat a two story cream colored home with dark gray trim, a wide covered porch stretching across the front, and a detached garage sitting just behind it. Freshly cut grass surrounded the property. A young maple tree stood near the sidewalk. And parked in the driveway was Captain Kim Junmyeon’s car. Yunho parked behind it, shutting off the engine. Neither of them moved right away as Y/N stared through the windshield. “It’s prettier than the pictures.” She looked over at him. “You okay?” He let out a slow breath. “I’ve been in races with less anxiety than this.” She laughed softly. “You’ve also crashed in one.”

“That’s unrelated.”

“I don’t think it is.”

He smiled, shaking his head before climbing out and rounding the front of the car, opening the passenger door and reaching for Y/N’s hand. She took it without hesitation and together they walked toward the house. The front door opened before they reached the porch and Junmyeon stepped outside carrying a ring of keys in one hand and two paper coffee cups in the other. His expression remained as unreadable as ever as looked first at his daughter then at Yunho. “You made it.” Y/N smiled. “You told him five.”

“You were two minutes early.”

Yunho couldn’t help himself.

“I’ve been told that’s a first for your family.”

Junmyeon’s eyes slid toward him. “Keep talking.”

Yunho grinned. “I’ll stop.” One corner of Junmyeon’s mouth twitched upward as he held one of the coffees toward Yunho. “I’ve already walked through the place.” He opened the front door. “Structurally, it’s solid. The roof was replaced three years ago. Plumbing’s been updated. Electrical was brought to code.” He glanced over his shoulder. “The previous owners moved to Seoul after retirement. They took good care of it.” Fall sunlight poured through the front windows, illuminating polished hardwood floors that stretched into an open living room beyond. Junmyeon stepped aside, gesturing toward the entrance. “Go on.…” His voice softened just enough that only the two of them really noticed. “Don’t look at it as buyers.” His eyes drifted briefly to Y/N’s stomach before returning to the two of them. “Look at it as parents.” Junmyeon stayed behind near the front entry, deliberately giving them space. “I’ll be outside,” he said simply. “Take your time.” The front door clicked shut behind him.

Y/N and Yunho’s fingers found each other’s as they wandered into the house. The living room opened into a bright kitchen with white cabinets, butcher block countertops, and wide windows overlooking the backyard. Morning sunlight spilled across the hardwood floors, making the entire downstairs feel warm without trying. Y/N slowly walked around the kitchen island, trailing her fingertips across the smooth countertop. “I could actually cook in here.“ Yunho raised an eyebrow. “You?” She gasped. “I know how to cook.”

“You know how to order food.”

“I made breakfast last week.”

“You burned toast.”

“That toaster was defective.”

“It was brand new.”

“It had an attitude.”

Yunho laughed, the sound echoing through the empty house and he reached over, stealing a quick kiss before they continued exploring. The dining room sat just off the kitchen, large enough for a six person table. They continued upstairs together. The first bedroom overlooked the street. The second was slightly smaller, painted a soft sage green. Y/N stepped inside and smiled. She could already picture it. A crib beneath the window. Bookshelves. Tiny clothes folded into little drawers. A rocking chair tucked into the corner. Without realizing it, one hand drifted over her stomach. “Hi, buddy.” Yunho watched her quietly from the doorway. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t need to. He knew exactly what she was seeing.

After another minute, they checked out the master bedroom. It was larger than either of them expected. A wide window overlooked the backyard, flooding the room with soft natural light. The attached bathroom still had its original soaking tub. Y/N wandered farther inside, already imagining where a bed would go. Maybe a dresser there. A bookshelf in that corner. Pictures on the wall. A home. Not just another apartment. Not somewhere temporary. Somewhere they could stay. She walked toward the window, smiling to herself as she looked out over the backyard below. “You could see him playing out there,” she murmured but no answer came. She frowned. “Yunho?” Turning around, she found the bedroom doorway empty. “Yunho?”

Yunho quietly slipped out the back door, shoving his hands into his pockets as he crossed the neatly cut browning fall grass toward the detached garage sitting at the edge of the property. It wasn’t extravagant. Just a clean, two car garage with a side workbench visible through one of the dusty windows. Sunlight spilled across a smooth concrete floor. Old cabinets lined one wall. Pegboards still held a handful of forgotten hooks. A heavy wooden workbench stretched across the back. The previous owner had clearly spent time out here. Yunho stepped inside slowly and the smell hit him first. Old wood. Motor oil. Metal. It reminded him… of Outlaw Customz. It reminded him of his old warehouse his dad left him. His eyes drifted toward the empty center of the garage. Big enough for his rebuilt car. Maybe another project someday. Shelves along one wall for tools. An air compressor. A lift, if he ever saved enough. He smiled to himself. He was imagining coming home from work. Parking his car. Hearing laughter from inside the house. A little boy running across the yard because he’d heard the garage door open. The image appeared so vividly it almost startled him.

Yunho swallowed then quietly laughed to himself. “Yeah….” He looked around the garage one more time. “I could make this work.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Two weeks disappeared in a blur of paperwork, inspections, doctor appointments, and long days that somehow never seemed to end. December settled over Busan with crisp mornings and cold sea winds that carried the scent of salt through the city. Storefronts hung lights above their windows, cafés set out little Christmas trees, and every evening the streets glowed a little warmer against the winter sky. The house officially belonged to them now. The down payment had been made. The keys sat in a drawer at Y/N’s apartment. Boxes had started appearing in corners. But between Yunho working twelve hour days, Y/N finishing the semester while seven months pregnant now, and endless paperwork, they still hadn’t found time to actually move. The nursery existed only as unopened boxes stacked inside an empty bedroom.

Outlaw Customz was alive with the familiar soundtrack of impact wrenches, revving engines, and classic rock spilling from an old radio mounted above the office door. The massive garage smelled of gasoline, fresh paint, and burnt rubber. Yunho slid out from beneath a black Nissan Skyline on a creeper, wiping grease from his hands with an already filthy rag before pushing himself to his feet. “You tighten the rear differential?” Jongho called from across the garage.

“Finished twenty minutes ago.”

“You torque it?”

Yunho gave him a deadpan look. “Do you enjoy insulting me?”

“A little.”

“I can tell.”

Jongho grinned before ducking back beneath another car as Yunho tossed the rag onto his shoulder and made his way toward Hongjoong’s office. The garage owner stood inside with invoices spread across his desk, reading glasses perched low on his nose while arguing with someone on the phone about imported parts. “No.” Hongjoong sighed. “I ordered Brembos. I know what Toyota brakes look like.…Then send me what I paid for.” He hung up and rubbed both his eyes. “I hate people.” Yunho leaned against the office doorway. “I need a favor.” Hongjoong looked up. “That sentence always costs me money.”

“It’ll make you money.”

“Better.”

He leaned back in his chair. “What do you need?” Yunho folded his arms. “I need races.” Hongjoong’s expression shifted because Yunho hadn’t raced since he got out. Not since he found out he was gonna be a dad. “What kind?”

“The high money ones.”

Hongjoong studied him for several seconds. “How high?”

“The highest you’ve got.”

The garage noises outside suddenly felt very far away as Hongjoong slowly removed his glasses. “Talk to me.” Yunho looked out through the office window toward the shop floor. “The house.” Hongjoong nodded. “I figured.”

“I’ve already put the down payment down.”

“I know.”

“But?”

Yunho rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I want it paid off faster.” Hongjoong frowned. “You don’t need to.”

“I know.”

“You’ve got time.”

“I know.”

“You’ve still got months before…”

“I know.” The words came a little sharper than he’d intended and Hongjoong didn’t react. He’d known Yunho long enough not to take it personally. Instead, he simply folded his arms. “This isn’t about the mortgage.” Yunho looked away. “No. It’s about him. My son’s gonna be here in two months.” His voice softened. “And I keep looking around that apartment thinking…” He laughed quietly to himself. “there isn’t even room for his stroller.” Hongjoong smiled faintly. “I want him home before he’s born. I want to be able to get him everything he needs. Get him the best.” He looked back at Hongjoong. “I don’t care if I have to race every Friday and Saturday until then.”

Hongjoong was silent for a long moment before he stood and walked over to the office window looking out at the garage. “You remember what happened the last time you chased money instead of driving smart?” Yunho’s jaw tightened. The crash. The arrest. Everything that followed. “I’m not doing that again.”

“You sure?”

“I’m racing smarter.”

Hongjoong turned to face him. “No.” He shook his head. “You’re racing with something to lose now. Two things.” The words landed heavier than either of them expected as Yunho met his eyes. “I’ll come home.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can promise I’ll do everything I can.”

Hongjoong let out a slow breath. “There are two invitation only races before Christmas. One in Daegu. The other…” Hongjoong looked him straight in the eye. “is in Seoul.” Yunho frowned. “How much?” Hongjoong didn’t answer. Instead… he held up two fingers. “Winner takes two hundred million won.” The office fell completely silent. Even Yunho blinked surprised. “That’s enough to finish the house.” Hongjoong nodded. “Exactly.”

“And who’s running it?”

Hongjoong’s expression lost what little warmth it had. “I don’t know yet.” He stepped closer. “But races with purses that big…” His voice dropped. “always attract people who don’t care whether everyone crosses the finish line.” Yunho knew exactly what he meant and suddenly the thought of climbing back into the driver’s seat for an illegal race didn’t fill him with adrenaline. It filled him with responsibility. Because now he wasn’t racing for himself. Or for fun. Or for a rush. He was racing for the little boy who still hadn’t taken his first breath.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Final exams were over. The endless stream of students rushing between lecture halls had been replaced with strings of Christmas lights hanging from lampposts, holiday music drifting from cafés, and the occasional group celebrating the start of winter break. Y/N and Seonghwa sat outside their favorite café near campus, bundled against the chilly afternoon air beneath one of the patio heaters. Half eaten sandwiches sat between them, along with two hot chocolates that had long since become more decorative than practical. Seonghwa was halfway through explaining why one of his teachers clearly enjoyed ruining lives when he stopped talking altogether. Y/N hadn’t heard a word he’d said. She was staring blankly at nothing, absentmindedly stirring whipped cream into her drink for what had to be the hundredth time. “Okay.” He snapped his fingers. “Earth to Y/N.” She blinked. “Hm?”

“Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere.”

“Liar.”

“I’m thinking.”

“You’ve been thinking for ten minutes.”

She sighed, resting her forehead against one hand. “Don’t.”

“I’m absolutely going to.”

She groaned. “It’s…” She looked around as if someone might overhear them leaned across the table. “It’s just the hormones.” Seonghwa nodded slowly. “Okay…”

“I’m just…” Another groan escaped her. “Really…” She dropped her voice to barely above a whisper. “you know…” He stared at her. “No.” She covered her face with both hands. “I’m horny.” There was a moment of complete silence before Seonghwa burst into laughter so hard he nearly knocked over his drink. “Oh my God.” Y/N shot him a glare through her fingers. “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m trying.” He absolutely was not.

“I’m seven months pregnant!”

“I know!”

“My body hates me.”

“It clearly doesn’t.”

She kicked him lightly under the table. “Seonghwa.” He finally got himself under control, wiping at the corner of one eye. “Okay, okay.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate. “So…” He shrugged. “Have sex with your baby daddy.” Y/N stared at him then gave him the most offended look she could manage. “I want to.”

“But?”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “But I’m…” She looked down at herself. Her coat was unbuttoned revealing the unmistakable curve of her pregnancy beneath the soft knit sweater she’d chosen that morning. “Huge.” Seonghwa’s smile faded. “You don’t actually believe that.”

“I know I’m supposed to say I don’t.” She rubbed one hand over her stomach. “But…” She searched for the words. “My ankles swell. I can’t see my own feet half the time now. I get winded walking up stairs.” She laughed weakly. “And every time I catch my reflection…” Her voice grew quieter. “I don’t recognize myself.” Seonghwa watched her carefully. “You think Yunho sees that?” She looked away toward the street. “I don’t know. I know he tells me I’m beautiful. He kisses me. He still looks at me the same way.” She smiled faintly. “But sometimes…” Her fingers tightened around the warm paper cup. “I wonder if he’s just saying it because he knows I’m carrying our son.”

Seonghwa didn’t answer as he leaned back in his chair, studying her with the same patient expression he’d worn as long as they’ve known each other. “Can I tell you something?” She nodded. “I’ve watched that man look at you for almost a year.” Y/N looked back at him. He smiled softly. “The only thing that’s changed… is that somehow he looks even more in love.” Y/N swallowed. “He practically worships the ground you walk on.” A small laugh escaped her. “That’s dramatic.”

“It’s accurate.”

Her eyes dropped to her cup as a blush crept into her cheeks and Seonghwa smiled to himself. “If Yunho could hear you right now…” He shook his head. “he’d probably think you’re completely ridiculous.” Y/N laughed quietly through her embarrassment. “Yeah.” She smiled despite herself. “He probably would.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The garage echoed with the sharp metallic rhythm of impact guns and ratchets. Outside, the December air bit at anyone foolish enough to leave the bay doors open too long. Inside, space heaters fought a losing battle against the cold as Yunho stood over the open hood of his car. The Daegu race was only days away. He’d already changed the oil, checked the suspension, and swapped out a worn belt. Now he was making tiny adjustments to the engine, the kind of details only another driver would ever notice. He tightened one last bolt. “Come on…” The wrench slipped suddenly the break sent his knuckles crashing against a sharp metal bracket. “Shit!” He jerked his hand back as a thin line of blood immediately appeared across his palm. He tossed the broken wrench onto the nearby workbench, clattering loudly enough that half the garage looked over.

Jongho, halfway underneath another car, slid out. “You good?” Yunho looked down at the small cut. “Yeah.”

“You don’t sound convincing.”

“I’m fine.”

Jongho stood, wiping his hands on a rag before walking over. “You just murdered an innocent wrench.” Yunho sighed, leaning both hands against the front of the car and just stared into the engine bay a few minutes. “I think…” He laughed once under his breath. “I think this is the longest I’ve gone without sex since I was in prison.” Jongho blinked. “That was not where I thought this conversation was going.” Yunho rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We haven’t…” He shook his head. “Not since the night I got out.” Jongho’s expression softened. “You two okay?”

“Yeah.” The answer came without hesitation. “We’re good.” He smiled to himself. “Better than good.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Yunho was quiet for a second. “I’m not gonna say anything to her.” He folded the grease stained rag in his hands absentmindedly. “I can tell she’s…” He searched for the word. “Insecure. Even if she won’t tell me.” His eyes drifted toward a copy of the ultrasound picture clipped to the corner of his toolbox. “I know she’s looking at herself differently. I catch her pulling at her shirts. Or apologizing because she gets tired.” He shook his head with a small, helpless smile. “She has no idea what I see when I look at her.” Jongho listened without interrupting. “I mean…” Yunho shrugged. “I’ll wait as long as she needs. She’s carrying our son. That’s a hell of a lot more important than me getting laid.” He exhaled slowly. “I’m just…”

Jongho couldn’t help himself as he snorted. “Sexually frustrated.” Yunho closed his eyes for a second. “Yeah. A little.” Jongho laughed. “A little? You just gave me a five minute speech.” Yunho pointed a greasy finger at him. “Don’t start.” Jongho leaned against the workbench with a grin. “I’m just saying. For a guy who’s about to be a dad, you’ve somehow become the most patient man in Busan.” Yunho chuckled quietly. “I don’t think patience has anything to do with it.”

“No?”

He looked down at the ultrasound again, his expression softening. “When she smiles…” He smiled too. “I honestly forget about everything else.” There was a brief silence before Jongho smirked. “Still sexually frustrated though.” Yunho picked up the shop rag and threw it at his best friend’s face and Jongho caught it laughing. “I was trying to be supportive!”

“You were making fun of me.”

“I can do both.”

Yunho shook his head, laughing despite himself. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet…” Jongho tossed the rag back. “I’m still your best friend.” Yunho caught it one handed. “Unfortunately.” The two of them shared a laugh before Yunho turned back toward the engine as the tow truck backed into one bay while another customer argued with Hongjoong over an estimate. Yeosang climbed out the tow truck, unlit blunt sat tucked behind one ear like a carpenter’s pencil. He didn’t even bother shutting the truck door before jogging toward Yunho. “Dude.” Yunho didn’t look up. “Hm?”

“Dude.”

“What?”

“You…” Yeosang pointed dramatically toward the tow truck. “Who I just had to tow in needing her car fixed.” Jongho looked over from the alignment rack. “Who?” Yeosang wore the expression of a man delivering terrible news. “Kira.” Three groans echoed through the garage almost simultaneously. “Oh, come on,” Yunho muttered, letting his forehead fall briefly against the hood of his car. “Seriously?” Yeosang nodded toward the front office. “Seriously. Her car died on the expressway.” Yunho was close to running away from the garage. Before Y/N. Before houses. Before ultrasounds tucked into wallets. Before fatherhood. Before being in love. Kira had been one of the women Yunho saw casually. Unfortunately… Kira hadn’t realized it was casual.

She’d spent months convinced they were headed toward something serious despite Yunho making it abundantly clear they weren’t. The relationship had ended without a word because Yunho met Y/N. “Does she know you’re practically married?” Jongho asked and Yunho shrugged, not even flinching at the joke of marriage. “I haven’t talked to her since the night I met Y/N.” Yeosang winced. “Well…” He nodded toward the front entrance. “You’re about to.” The sound of heels clicking across the concrete floor announced her before anyone turned. Kira stepped into the garage wearing an expensive wool coat over fitted clothes that looked wildly impractical for an auto shop. She smiled the second she spotted Yunho. “There you are.”

Yunho closed his eyes for the briefest second before forcing the same polite customer service smile he used with everyone. “Kira.” She walked right up to him. “Haven’t seen you. I didn’t know you were still working here.”

“I own part of my sanity here.”

She laughed as though he’d said something charming. “My car just died.”

“I heard.”

“It wouldn’t start.” She sighed dramatically. “I figured I’d bring it to the best mechanic I know.” Yunho rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll take a look.”

“I knew you would.” She reached out almost absentmindedly, resting her hand against his forearm. “I’ve missed you, you know.” Yeosang slowly turned toward Jongho. “This is painful.” Jongho nodded. “I’m uncomfortable.” Yunho carefully stepped back just enough for her hand to slip away naturally. “I’m sorry your car broke down.”

“I mean it…” She smiled. “I’ve missed you.” Before Yunho could figure out how to answer without making the situation worse… “Pizza delivery!” Seonghwa called cheerfully and everyone in the garage looked up and Yunho’s face immediately brightened as Y/N stepped inside behind Seonghwa, balancing two large pizza boxes in her arms. She’d traded her heavy winter coat for one of Yunho’s hoodies underneath, the fabric stretched gently over her belly. Loose leggings and sneakers completed the outfit, comfortable enough for a quick stop at the garage before heading back home. The moment Yunho saw her entire expression changed. The tension he’d carried all afternoon melted into something softer. Warmer. He started toward her but Y/N stopped walking. Her smile faded as her eyes had landed on Kira. More specifically… on how close she was standing to Yunho.

Kira reached out again, laughing as her fingertips brushed lightly against his arm while finishing whatever she’d been saying. A strange feeling twisted low in Y/N’s stomach. She’d never been jealous before. Never had a reason. Yunho had never given her one. If anything… he’d always been the possessive one. The one who glared when another man lingered too long. The one who proudly introduced her as “my girlfriend,” and now, “the mother of my son.” She’d always found it a little endearing. Now… Standing seven months pregnant. Feeling heavier than she’d ever been. Still hearing the doubts she’d confessed to Seonghwa over lunch echoing in her head. She looked at the beautiful woman standing beside Yunho. Then looked down at herself and jealously suddenly slipped quietly into her chest. Not because she didn’t trust Yunho. She trusted him completely. What she didn’t trust… was the small, insecure voice in the back of her own mind.

Yunho saw it. The tiny tightening around her eyes. The way her shoulders squared. The smile disappearing. He knew that look. Hell… he’d worn that exact expression every time some guy lingered a little too long around her. It was jealousy. And before he could open his mouth… he watched the realization flash across Y/N’s face as Hongjoong emerged from his office just as Seonghwa reached the counter with the pizza. “My heroes have arrived,” Hongjoong declared dramatically and Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “You say that every time someone brings food.”

“Because every time someone brings food, they’re my hero.” Hongjoong leaned down, stealing a quick kiss from Seonghwa as he reached for the stack of pizza boxes. The gesture was so automatic neither of them even acknowledged it anymore. Y/N, however barely noticed. Without taking her eyes off Kira, she shoved the pizza boxes she’d been carrying into Hongjoong’s surprised arms. “Whoa.” He caught them against his chest. “Okay.” Then she started walking. Slowly. Purposefully, stopping directly beside Yunho and folding both arms across her chest as she looked up at him. “What time will you be home tonight?”

Yunho couldn’t answer. He was still taking in how turned on he suddenly was as Kira smiled politely. She hadn’t put the pieces together yet. Instead, she glanced around the garage at the group of men standing nearby. Her eyes bounced from Yunho… to Yeosang… to Jongho… then back again and a laugh escaped her. “Wait. Which one of you idiots didn’t wear a condom?” Yeosang’s eyes went wide. Jongho slowly took one careful step backward as Y/N answered before anyone else could. “The one…” Her voice remained calm. “that if you don’t stop touching…” She took one small step closer. “I’ll happily remind you a pregnant woman can still break a nose.”

The garage went deathly silent as Yeosang whispered without moving his lips. “She’s so hot.” Jongho smack him in the back of the head as Kira’s smile faltered and looked up at Yunho. “Excuse me?” Yunho finally found his voice. “Kira.” He gently stepped around Y/N until he was standing beside her instead of between the two women. His hand found the small of Y/N’s back. Comforting and grounding. “This is Y/N. My girlfriend.” He looked down at Y/N for just a second before smiling. “And….” His smile grew into one of unmistakable pride. “The mother of my son.”

Kira’s expression didn’t soften. If anything it hardened. Her eyes drifted downward to Y/N belly. “You’re kidding.” A short, incredulous laugh escaped her. “No.” She shook her head. “You’re actually serious.” Yunho’s jaw tightened. “I am.” Kira looked at Y/N again and this time, there was something almost pitying in her smile. “Honey…” She sighed. “If you think he’s actually going to stick around…” Yunho’s expression darkened. “Kira.” She ignored him. “The same guy who used to have a different girl every other night?” She let out another small laugh. “Then you’re crazy.”

The garage seemed to stop breathing. No one moved. No one spoke. Y/N didn’t say anything. Not right away. Because the worst part… was that Kira wasn’t completely lying. Yunho had been that guy. Before her. Before they met. That tiny, insecure voice she’d been trying so hard to ignore all afternoon whispered again. What if… and she hated that it even crossed her mind. Hated herself for letting it. Yunho felt the subtle shift beside him and looked down. Y/N’s confident posture hadn’t changed… but he knew her well enough to see it. The flicker of doubt. And that hurt him far more than anything Kira had said. His eyes snapped back to Kira. “You’re right. I was that guy. I slept around. I never stayed. I never made promises. I never wanted forever.” He nodded. “You’re absolutely right.”

Kira smiled, thinking she’d won. Then Yunho looked at Y/N and everything about him changed. His features softened. His eyes warmed. His thumb unconsciously brushed against the small of her back. “Then I met her.” He looked back at Kira. “So no…” He shook his head. “I’m not that guy anymore.” His hand slipped gently around Y/N’s waist. “I wake up next to the woman I love. And if you think…” He glanced at Y/N again, smiling with quiet certainty. “that there’s anywhere else I’d rather be than with them…” He shook his head. “Then you’re the crazy one.” The words landed with far more weight than shouting ever could. Kira opened her mouth but nothing came out. She stared at him for another long second. Searching. Then let out a slow breath through her nose. “Right.”

The confidence she’d walked into the garage with had disappeared as Yeosang clapped his hands together with forced enthusiasm. “Great!” Nobody looked at him but he smiled anyway. “So…” He pointed toward the service bays. “Why don’t we go take a look at your car?” Yeosang gently but very deliberately steered Kira toward the opposite end of the garage. “This way.”

“I know where I’m going.”

Y/N let out a slow breath she’d been holding and the tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth refused to cooperate. Yunho noticed and he couldn’t help laughing. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“I know that look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re trying not to look smug.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “Maybe a little.”

“A little?”

She shrugged innocently. “You handled that very well.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You absolutely did.”

She laughed, the sound finally washing away the knot that had been sitting in her chest since she’d walked through the garage doors as Yunho stepped closer. His hand finding her waist again, thumb brushing gently over the side of her hoodie. “You okay?” The question was quiet enough that only she heard it. Y/N looked at him. Really looked at him. At the way he was watching her instead of everyone else. At the concern in his eyes. “Yeah.” Then, after a tiny pause… “Sorry.” His eyebrows furrowed. “For what?” She glanced toward the service bay where Kira had disappeared. “I…” She laughed awkwardly. “I got jealous.”

Yunho smirked and it almost made her blush all over again. “You did.”

“I know.”

“I’ve never…”

“I know.”

She sighed. “I don’t even know where it came from.” He did. He knew exactly where it had come from. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. “You’ve got nothing to be jealous of.” His voice carried a certainty that left no room for doubt. “Nothing.” She smiled. “I know.” He looked over toward his car, still sitting with its hood open. “I’ve gotta finish tuning this.” She followed his gaze. “Still working on it?”

“Almost done.” He smiled at her again. “I’ll finish up…” His fingers squeezed hers once. “and I’ll be home.” She nodded. “Okay.” She didn’t ask why he’d been spending so much time on the car again lately. Didn’t ask why he’d suddenly become obsessed with every tiny adjustment. And Yunho was grateful. Because he wasn’t ready to tell her. Not yet. For now… He simply watched her walk back toward Seonghwa, one hand resting protectively over their son beneath his hoodie. And quietly promised himself… every lap is for them.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The hallway outside the apartment was silent as Yunho unlocked the door as quietly as he could. The familiar warmth hit him immediately. The scent of pizza lingered faintly in the air. Christmas lights blinked softly around the living room window. And sprawled across the couch… Seonghwa was completely unconscious. One sock was missing. A medical textbook rested open across his chest, his reading glasses crooked halfway down his nose while some nature documentary continued playing quietly on the television. Yunho couldn’t help smiling. “Long day, huh?” Seonghwa answered with a snore.

Yunho chuckled under his breath as he carefully lifted the textbook off his chest and set it on the coffee table before pulling the throw blanket over him. “Night, man.” He quietly walked down the hallway toward Y/N’s room. The bedroom door was cracked open. Her soft bedside lamp painting the room in warm gold. Y/N looked up from where she’d been sitting against the headboard scrolling on Amazon for baby clothes. The second she saw him her entire face lit up. “There you are.”

“I told you I’d…” He never finished. She was already crossing the room, phone landing somewhere on the bed as she wrapped both arms around him as much as her growing belly allowed, lips finding his. Yunho melted into the kiss almost instantly, one arm circling her waist while his other hand settled gently against the small of her back. When they finally separated, he rested his forehead against hers. “I missed you too.” She smiled. “I just…” She kissed him once more, shorter this time. “Really needed you today.” His brow furrowed thinking something other than Kira had happened. “What happened?” She hesitated, fingers twisting into the fabric of his hoodie. “Nothing…. I just….” She laughed softly, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “I know I’m pregnant. I know my body’s supposed to change. But sometimes…” She swallowed. “I don’t feel like myself anymore. I keep thinking…” She shook her head. “What if you don’t…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

Yunho gently cupped her face before she could look away again. “Look at me. There isn’t a version of you…” His thumb brushed softly across her cheek. “That I could love more than the woman standing in front of me.” Tears immediately gathered in her eyes. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not saying it because you need to hear it.” He smiled. “I’m saying it because it’s true.” His gaze drifted briefly to where her hand rested over their son. “You know what I see?” She gave the smallest shake of her head. “I see the woman who sat through every prison visit. The woman who never gave up on me. The woman who’s carrying our little boy.” His eyes softened. “I see my home.” One tear escaped despite her efforts to stop it and Yunho caught it with his thumb. “And if we’re being completely honest…” A grin slowly tugged at one corner of his mouth. “When you walked over to Kira. And threatened her….” He leaned down until his forehead touched hers again. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little turned on.” Yunho watched her pull away, the space between them suddenly too wide. His hands stayed on her hips, fingers flexing against the soft cotton of his hoodie that she wore. "Really," she asked and he answered by tugging her back into him, mouth finding hers with a low sound that came from somewhere deep in his chest.

The kiss was slow at first, then deeper, his tongue sliding against hers as his hands slid up her sides. When he broke away it was only to trail his lips down the column of her throat, tasting the warmth of her skin, feeling the quick flutter of her pulse beneath his mouth. “Mhm… You have no idea," he murmured against her neck, voice rough, almost dazed. Y/N pulled back again, breath shaky. "I'm… bigger now…..” Yunho went still, eyes dragging over her face, then lower, taking in the way the hoodie stretched across her chest and the swell of her belly beneath the fabric. He didn't speak right away. Instead he reached for the hem, slow enough that she could stop him if she wanted but she didn't. He peeled the hoodie up and off, letting it drop somewhere behind him and she froze. Her hands twitched like she wanted to cover herself, but she stayed still, letting him look. Her breasts were fuller, heavier, the skin across her stomach stretched smooth and tight over the curve of their son. A few stretch marks traced faint lines along her sides. Her nipples had darkened, and there was a softness to her that hadn't been there before.

Yunho stared like he was memorizing every inch. Then he kissed her again, deeper this time, one hand cupping the side of her face while the other slid down to rest over the swell of her belly and he broke the kiss only to drop to his knees, lips pressing to the center of her stomach, warm and reverent, lingering there like he could feel the heartbeat through her skin. When he stood again his eyes were dark, voice low. "All I see is you… And right now… I really need you." Y/N surged up to kiss him, hands already tugging at his own hoodie. He helped her pull it off, then shoved his pants down his hips, kicking them aside. His dick was already hard, a bead of precum glistening. She wrapped her fingers around him once, stroking slow, feeling him twitch in her grip before he caught her wrist and guided her toward the bed. He sat first, then lay back against the pillows, pulling her with him until she straddled his hips, thighs spread wide over him, the tip of his dick nudging against her slick folds as she reached down, lined him up, and sank down slow.

They both moaned at the same time. Y/N's head tipped back as she took him inch by inch, her pussy stretching around his thickness, already wet and hot. Yunho's hands gripped her hips, thumbs stroking over the curve of her belly as she settled fully onto him, buried to the hilt inside her. She felt impossibly tight, her walls fluttering around him, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from thrusting up. “Fuck, baby," he breathed. "You feel so good. So fucking wet for me." She started moving, slow at first, rolling her hips in careful circles. Every drag of his dick inside her sent sparks up her spine. Her hands braced on his chest, fingers splayed over the hard muscle there, feeling the way his heart hammered beneath her hands as Yunho watched her with hooded eyes, one hand sliding up to cup her breast, thumb brushing over her sensitive nipple until she gasped. “That's it," he praised, voice low and rough. "Ride me just like that. So fucking beautiful like this. Carrying my baby and taking my dick so deep."

Y/N's rhythm picked up, her hips lifting and dropping with more urgency. The wet sound of her pussy sliding up and down his length filled the room, mixed with her soft moans and his low groans. Her belly brushed against his stomach with every movement, the weight of it grounding her, reminding her of everything they were. Yunho's hands roamed over her, one sliding down to where they were joined, fingers finding her clit and rubbing slow circles that made her thighs tremble. But she tired quickly. Her breathing grew heavier, movements slowing, thighs burning from the effort. Yunho noticed and sat up, one arm wrapping around her waist to steady her. “Get up for me," he murmured against her ear. "Lay on your side." She lifted off him with a soft whimper at the loss, rolling carefully onto her side as Yunho moved behind her, pressing the length of his body against her back, hand sliding over her hip, then down her thigh, lifting her leg and hooking it over his own so she was open for him and reached between them, gripping his dick and guiding himself back inside her in one smooth thrust.

The angle was different, deeper, hitting spots that made her cry out softly as Yunho buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing hard against her skin as he started moving. His thrusts were controlled but steady, building in speed without ever becoming rough. He kept one hand on her raised thigh, holding her open, while the other slid down to rub her clit again in tight, focused circles. “Yunho….” she gasped, voice breaking. “I got you," he whispered, lips brushing her ear. "Let go for me.“ Her orgasm hit hard, pussy clenching around him in rhythmic pulses, her whole body shaking as she cried out his name. Yunho held her through it, never stopping the movement of his fingers on her clit or the steady thrust of his dick inside her. He fucked her through the aftershocks, pace quickening just enough to chase his own release until he came too with a low, broken groan against her neck, dick pulsing deep inside her as he filled her and his arm tightened around her, holding her close as they both trembled through the aftermath.

"I love you," he breathed, pressing kisses along her shoulder. "So fucking much." They stayed like that for a long moment, his dick still inside her, her leg still hooked over his, both of them catching their breath. Yunho's hand resting over her belly, thumb stroking slow circles as Y/N reached back to thread her fingers through his hair, holding him close. Eventually he pulled out carefully, rolling onto his back and guiding her to rest against his chest. She settled there with a soft sigh, one leg draped over his, her belly pressed warm against his side as Yunho's fingers traced idle patterns on her shoulder, his other hand resting protectively over the curve where their son grew.

"You okay?" he asked quietly and Y/N nodded against his chest. "Better than okay." He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair as outside the window the night had shifted and snow began to fall. Inside, the air was warm and thick with the scent of sex and sweat and something sweeter, something that felt like home. Yunho's hand moved in slow strokes over her belly still, feeling the occasional flutter of movement beneath his palm. Y/N's breathing had evened out, her body relaxed and heavy against him. He could feel the stickiness between her thighs, the way his cum had started to leak out of her, but he didn't move to clean it up. Not yet. He wanted to stay like this a little longer, holding her, feeling the proof of what they'd made together.

"Think he'll know?" Yunho asked after a while, voice soft with wonder and Y/N laughed quietly. "Know what?"

"That we were just… you know."

"I think he'll be fine," she said, tilting her head to press a kiss to his jaw. "He's pretty well protected in there." Yunho's hand spread wider over her stomach, fingers splaying possessively. "Good. Because I'm not planning on stopping anytime soon." She looked up at him, eyes bright. "No?"

"Not a chance," he said, leaning down to kiss her slow and deep and Y/N smiled against his mouth, one hand coming up to cup his face. "I love you too, you know." They kissed again, slower this time, the urgency fading into something softer, more tender. Yunho's hand stayed on her belly, protective, while Y/N's fingers traced patterns over his chest, the slow beat of their hearts measured together with the quiet certainty that whatever came next, they'd face it together as well.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

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which is true, you were getting your shit done on time but yunho sort of partially waited last minute to start the project and didn't realize that if he wanted to get everything done well, he was already behind. yes, he wanted to do a good job on the project for the grade but also to impress you? in some odd way.

"okay well, this is the perfect opportunity for a break then!" san chirps as he comes from the kitchen. "party starts at nine so get ready soon so we can pregame."

"ay ay captain." yunho calls out from the table finally closing his laptop.

"dude, like one shot is gonna kill him if we pregame." yeosang whispers when san walks into his room.

a small laugh escapes yunho's lips, "he'll be fine. we're just gonna be right next door."

yeosang was right.

san was a little more than buzzed after two shots but was determined to still go to the party which already starting based off the loud music bumping from the walls.

"let's go!" san shouts as the roommates make the quick walk next door.

yunho on the other hand was much better at handling his alcohol and was feeling a good buzz. his mind drifted towards you again. he wondered if you would be the at the party. maybe you guys could finally talk about more than your fucking class or group project.

"maybe you can find your package." yeosang notes half-jokingly as san knocks on the door.

for a second, he had no idea what the hell yeosang was talking about until he remembered his extremely well-thought out cover up when he was trying to figure out more about your rendezvous to his apartment building.

"oh yeah, you right."

the door opens and reveals the led-lit living room semi-packed with people. music leaked into the hallway as the three guys stepped inside and removed their shoes.

"there's some drinks in the kitchen. knock yourselves out!" an unfamiliar voice shouts at the guys.

san makes a beeline for the center of the room where there's a group of people dancing and mingling. yunho absentmindedly followed yeosang into the kitchen. his brain was too occupied trying to scope out the crowd. he recognized a few faces here and there but no one that he actually knew and talked to.

"you want any jungle juice?" yeosang asks pulling yunho out of his thoughts.

yunho nods in response and looks back into the small crowd in the middle. san's yapping to a small group of girls already with his face flushed as hell. among the people in the room, yunho finally spots you. you were sitting on the couch that was pushed back to the wall to make room for the makeshift dance floor, also in deep talks with another guy. you were wearing a maroon halter top that exposed more of your tattoo. still, in the dark yunho had a hard time making it out.

"you looking for your package or what?" yeosang teases as he hands yunho his cup.

"you can say that."

"do you know anyone here?" yeosang asks as he leans back on one of the counters his body facing the living room.

"kinda? i recognize a few people but my uh-a group project mate is here too."

yeosang looks back out to the room of people socializing. "are they cute?"

yunho nearly chokes on his drink.

"woah- i was just joking."

it was almost like divine timing or something because as yunho was recovering from his near-death experience, you stumbled into the kitchen.

"yunho?" you ask, your voice higher than usual.

he looks up and tries his best to not look like a fool. "oh hey!"

"oh my god, what are you doing here!" you ask as you inch closer to the roommate duo.

yunho could see your features more clearly now, especially the bright blush across your soft cheeks and the dazed look in your eyes. "i live next door so i came with my roommates." yunho motions towards yeosang who gives you a small wave.

"ohhh!"

yeosang catches yunho's gaze quietly and gives him a wink before leaving the two of you together which was lowkey a blessing and a curse in disguise.

yunho's eyes flick back towards you who was sifting through the dozen of random drinks on the table.

"you want a shot?" you ask, beaming up at yunho.

you looked pretty like this, yunho thought. flushed cheeks without a care in the world. even though, he still had his mystery jungle juice in his hand, how could he refuse you?

"sure!"

after nearly over pouring both shots, you hand yunho's to him carefully, "to that fuckass group project!"

"and hopefully a good grade!" yunho adds on before clinking his paper shot cup with yours, hitting it on the counter before letting the lukewarm soju hit his throat.

yunho can most definitely handle his alcohol but there was something that was making his beat faster. maybe it was the second hand smoke he was consuming in the apartment?

"do you dance?" you shoot another question at your groupmate.

"yeah, kinda?" yunho sheepishly answers being humble.

"really?" disbelief crosses your face. "i know i'm like drunk as hell but i can tell when people are fucking with me."

yunho awkwardly shrugged his shoulders. "i'm not."

"let me see then."

"like right now?"

you look back towards the living room and grab yunho's arm. "yep!" dragging him to a less crowded area in the living room, you finally let go of him. "go!"

something in the alcohol kicked in hard cause yunho actually listened. he carefully listened to the music over everyone's loud voices, finding the beat and then eventually a groove to the song. gradually, yunho started breaking out into bigger moves attracting the attention of the people nearby. to keep the good vibes going, "put me on something" by p-lo began playing causing everyone to shout in excitement. somehow a mini dance circled formed with yunho, san, and another party goer all smeezing and busting it down to the song earning the crowd's approval.

you couldn't help but gawk in awe, you had no idea yunho could get this lit. at some point, yunho pulled you in to start dancing which you happily obliged.

"i didn't know you could dance like that!" you shout over the music.

a small smile appears on yunho's face, "you'd be surprised."

you roll your eyes at yunho's nonchalance before going back to dancing.

yunho didn't know when you slipped from the dance floor but once the music genre changed to something a little slower, he realized he was thirsty. in the kitchen, yunho grabbed a cold water bottle from one of the coolers in the kitchen.

as he caught his breath, his eyes immediately went back to scoping the apartment for you. eventually, he found you sitting on the floor, grumpily waiting for the bathroom to open up. yunho grabbed another water bottle before stalking off to you.

"you good?" he asks as he hands you the bottle.

you happily take the bottle from him, "yeah, i just need to fucking pee. but someone! is taking forever."

yunho squats next to you on the floor, "you wanna use my bathroom? i'm right next door."

"are you for real?" you ask, your mood changing instantly.

"yeah, i don't mind."

"let's go."

next thing yunho knew, you were in his apartment, scratch that, you were in his fucking room. it was actually incredibly impressive that he wasn't tweaking out.

he patiently waited on the edge of his bed, trying to will away his nasty thoughts from his brain. before yunho exploded from his own thoughts, you pop out of the bathroom, patting your hands on your jeans. "you got a nice place."

"t-thanks." yunho stuttered. "let me go too and then we can head back. you can wait here or in the living room."

when yunho locked the door and sat on the toilet seat he fucking realized that his hamper was in his bathroom. his hamper that had your stolen underwear hanging off the side was fucking gone. shit. yunho immedialately pulled the hamper to him and rummaged through the dirty clothes.

where the fuck did it go? he could've sworn he saw it last when it was peeking out from the side of it. as long as you didn't see it, it would be fine right?

it was well too late to even do anything about it cause yunho's hamper was in the bathroom fucking near the toilet. there was no way you didn't notice it.

it was a wrap. it was fucked. yunho will now be remembered as the fucking perv next door.

he immediately, pressed his ear to the door to try and make out any sounds like texting, whispers, or a shut door. nothing. ah, fuck. shit. yunho took another thirty seconds to calm his fucking racing heart. how was he gonna face you now?

preparing for the absolute worse, yunho slowly opened the door and braced himself for yelling and/or a slap across his face.

"there you are." you purr, you were sitting on the edge of the bed with your arms behind you. there was a dark look in your eyes that yunho couldn't decipher especially in his buzzed state.

whatever calming techniques yunho did in the bathroom wore off, his heart was racing and something else was pulsing. "r-ready to go back?"

you hum, pretending to mull it over in your head. "can we sit for a minute? i'm tired."

unable to say no and also too scared to argue, yunho obliges and begins moving to his gaming chair while scanning his room for his contraband.

a frown falls on your face, "noo, come here."

god, he was going to explode.

carefully, yunho sat next to you, being mindful to keep his distance. but of course, you toyed with that gap and pushed it to it's limits. you lean in close to yunho's side, lips just ghosting the outer shell of his ear. "are you looking for something?"

yunho's heart dropped. his breath got caught in his throat. you knew.

"i-i don't know what you mean." god, he sounded pathetic.

"really?" you tease, staring deeper into yunho's soul.

"yes-s?" he avoided your heavy gaze, staring at everything but you.

soft fingers tug at his chin, forcing him to look at you. you just raised your eyebrows to emphasize your question. when yunho doesn't say anything you continue, "i didn't know you liked lace." slowly, you pull your stolen green lace panties from your pocket.

"i'm sorry." yunho blurted automatically and pulled away from your hand, "i-i didn't mean to-"

"it's okay yun, i'm not judging. i just wanna know why you took them." you laugh, trying to ease his frantic nerves, "these are my favorite pair, y'know."

any logical part of his brain completely refused to function. first off, the intense guilt, shame, and embarrassment of you finding your stolen panties in your classmate's bathroom, then the fact that you just called him, yun, and lastly and most surprisingly, you're not mad? no, wait pause let's also the fact that his favorite color and material just also happened to be your favorite underwear?? call him delusional, but yunho felt like this was some twisted match in heaven.

"i just think you're really pretty." yunho honestly blurted out. his fave burning even more. if he was red before, he didn't want to imagine the shade of tomato he was right now.

another cute laugh came from you, "yun, you could've just told me that instead of stealing my panties."

"i-i'm sorry, i can wash them and give it back to you."

"wash?" you pause and turn your full body towards him, "yunho, what were doing with these?"

yunho watched as you spread the thin fabric between your hands. a part of him was going stirring and beginning to go feral. you were basically playing with his cum. his dried cum that stained the pretty dark green fabric of yours. he looked up to see you were patiently waiting for an answer. yunho was buzzed on more than just alcohol at this point. the sickening urge came back to his body. a part of him just wanted to see what would happen if he just told you the truth.

he came back to his senses when you leaned back again on the bed creating movement. yunho studied for a second more, taking in the way how stunning you looked. hair down with your tattoo fully on display that he realized and it was a lot bigger than he imagined it to be. you had this look in your eyes that rivaled that sick urge yunho got every and now then. that look was egging him, no- daring him to tell you the truth.

"i used it to touch myself." yunho whispers, his own words betraying his brain, "i used it a lot especially when i was stressed."

"oh really?" you say in genuine surprise. "can you show me how you were touching yourself? i'm a visual learner, remember?"

holy fucking shit.

did yunho black out? was he dreaming? what the fuck was happening. this whole interaction was not something yunho planned for. he was expecting fury, disgust, humiliation, not you being into it???

"you can do that for me, can you?" you ask, voice dripping in a velvet purr. "it's the least you can do after stealing from me."

"y-yeah. i can do that." with a shaky hand, he grabbed the lacy panties from your hand and retreated back to his gaming chair so he could face you better.

after stalling the best he could by pretending to get comfortable and debating if he should argue and say he really only jerked off in the shower with it, yunho began by pushing his pants down enough to free his boxers. softly, he rubbed himself with the lace through his own underwear. he kept going until soft moans were tumbling past his lips.

yunho gave up on resisting the urge and let it take over his body.

with greedy fingers, he pulled his cock loose from the cloth and immediately replaced the cotton with the lace. a louder moan escaped his lips as yunho threw his head back in pleasure. the different texture created a new yet familiar sensation on yunho's hard cock.

he peeked through hooded eyes to see the same dark look that you had paired with your teeth biting hard on your bottom lip. the view turned him on even more as his hips gave a particularly harder thrust.

you couldn't just sit there and watch without anything which led to you tugging your shirt down enough to fully show your bra. through the bulky material, you began to palm yourself at the site in front of you.

more moans filled the air causing yunho to pry his eyes open to the glorious view of you equally getting yourself off. still fully clothed, yet you looked hotter than ever. your legs tightly crossed as a way to relieve sone of the pressure building in your core and your pink lacy bra out on display with your small hands trying it's best to grab everything had yunho so so fucking close.

yunho didn't even have to close his eyes and imagine some lewd image of you anymore. with heavy eyelids, he made sure to take in every moment that was happening. god, what fucking universe did he please to deserve such a treat.

"fuck, y/n." yunho groaned, "i'm close."

"keep going," you grit through your teeth.

and he did. he kept rubbing your stained panties over and over again so much so that his eyes were forced shut. the familiar pressure building in his lower stomach was about to spill over the edge, he just need a little more.

"yunho please."

that was it. that was all he needed for him to finish. more groans and curses kept tumbling out of his mouth as he rode out his orgasm.

by the time, he was done collecting himself he remembered that you were still here. daringly, he looked over to see you pouting with an impatient look.

"did you not finish princess?" yunho asked, not even fully aware of the petname he just called you.

you shook your head in response, desperately wanting yunho to take control.

"do you want me to help you?"

"y-yes." you mumble, crossing your legs even tighter.

"i got you princess."

yunho slips on his boxers on again not bothering to fully clean himself up before sliding behind you. with careful hands, you let him move the both of you so that you're rest comfortably with your back against his chest. you make quick work shimmying your bottoms down and kick the remaining fabric somewhere in the room.

"are you okay, princess?" yunho asks, his hands still resting on his thighs.

"yes." you mumble, becoming increasingly shy when you realize just how exposed you are.

yunho doesn't say anything more but he can feel how tense you are so he starts off by rubbing slow circles on your inner thighs before slowly moving to your clothed cunt.

a low hum slips from your lips. impatiently, you wiggle your hips closer to yunho's hand, urging him to do more.

it literally doesn't take much for yunho to get hard again once he realizes how needy you are. he doesn't make you wait long as he finally slips his long fingers into your sopping cunt. yunho has to physically stop himself from bucking his hips at how soaked your pussy is. it's practically dripping already from just watching yunho.

god, the things you did to him without even knowing.

yunho couldn't help himself as attached his lips to the base of your neck, sucking and nibbling without a care. the combined sensation of yunho's fingers sliding in out while he went fucking crazy with the neck kisses was beginning to overstimulate your senses.

he could feel the pressure in your lower core was building up fast based on how mouthy you were with him.

"fuck, yunho. i'm so close!" you gasp, clawing at his arm that was caging you in.

the relentless attacks on your body barely slowed even as you reached your high. yunho paused kissing your neck to focus on his fingers and the way you took him so fucking well. god, he would have to start praying or meditating or something as a way to thank the universe for bringing you to him.

soon after, you reached your high as yunho finally slowed his fingers allowing you to adjust and catch your breath. yunho took the moment to memorize this absolute beauty of a view in front of him. he had to take as many mental photos as he could. especially, the way he pulled his fingers out and a gush of cum spilled out.

fuckkkkk.

before you came to your senses, yunho reached over to his nightstand to grab some tissue so he could clean you up. carefully, he wiped away the cum, making sure to pay even more attention to your sensitive areas.

when he was done, you slowly stirred in the bed and began to dress yourself. a wave of panic flowed through yunho as he immediately began overthinking every little fucking detail of what just occurred.

"are you okay?" yunho sheepishly asks, suddenly hyper aware that he was still in his boxers. "a-are we good?"

a soft smile appears on your lips when you turn around after zipping up your pants. you wrap your arms around yunho's neck, "i'm great actually, i'll see you next week for our one on one review, yeah?"

christ, the effect you had yunho needed to be study. "y-yes."

you didn't pull away at first, instead tugging at yunho so that his ear was somewhat near your lips, "make sure to wash my panties too."

when you pull away, yunho's complexion is already deepened into a strong cherry color. you were about to leave the room when you stop in your tracks and look back, "but, if you leave fresh load on them, i wouldn't mind that either."

"what did she say?" you ask quietly, eyes flickering between the whiteboard upfront and your notes.

yunho took a second to comprehend your words, too busy daydreaming. he raised his head from his hand that was covering the lower half of his face. "sorry-what?"

you cock your head to the side and look at him sideways a little bit, "do you know what we're supposed to be doing right now?" you motion towards the front of the class, where multiple students were huddled in different, small groups talking amongst each other.

he takes a moment to listen to what people were talking about and what was on the board to try and piece things together. "i think, we're just supposed to talk to each other about potential project ideas."

you look around and follow suit. "so what were you thinking of doing?"

"oh y'know..." yunho trails off as soon as he heard his professor start up again.

"alright, before we leave today, please get into groups of two. your project this time will be a group paper and presentation due next month. next class we will be going more in-depth about the project but for now, i want you all to get into groups and begin brain storming some potential ideas."

"godamnt." yunho hears you mutter under your breath.

he watches as your eyes dart around the room before falling back on him.

"do you wanna just be partners." you say exceptionally bored.

"s-sure." yunho thought he was dreaming at this point.

since the last-minute arrangement, yunho found himself seeing you everywhere, not on purpose at least. like the one time, he saw you slither away from the apartment next to his. that's funny, he would've remembered a face like yours if you lived next door. wait, does he even know who's next door?

"yeosang, do you know who lives next door to us?" yunho not so casually asks his roommate.

yeosang shoots him a look, " are you talking about the middle age couple to the right of us or the friend trio to the left?"

"both?" fuck, yunho didn't remember which door she came out of, too stunned at the fact that he recognized your face in his apartment building.

"the couple on the right is pretty chill and minds their own business. the trio to the left are like people around our age, i think? i don't know, i think i saw one of them around campus though. why do you ask?"

"oh cause i think one of them stole one of my packages i think." yunho lied. packages in this building are rarely delivered straight to their door and even if they were, their neighbors aren't petty thefts.

"mmm, did you ask the security guard if they saw anything?" yeosang asks, all further possible questions dropped from him.

"smart, smart." yunho mumbled as he pretended to look like he was thinking hard as he walked back into the safety of his room.

the next couple of classes with you went by so slowly with you. your professor droned on about the project and went on endless lectures and tangents about the unit. yunho never really paid attention but this time he felt a little guilty since he didn't want to be an absolute dead weight to you.

so he tried to pay attention, he really did.

class was as slow as ever and it was nearing just roughly the half point of the lecture. depending on the day at this time, some students would be scrolling on their phones trying to stay awake, quietly stretching to keep their body and mind moving, or they would straight up be asleep. you on the other hand, quietly spread your arms out and pushed them out a little bit making the sleeve of your t-shirt rise by the slightest inch. the fabric rose even more when you brought your hands together above your head to stretch your upper back.

you caught yunho's eye immediately. his eyes traced the way the sleeves of your white tee revealed wisps of ink on your skin. he couldn't figure out what the design was just based on the little sliver of ink that he saw but his imagination took over. was it a floral design? some type of script? or maybe it was an animal? how big was the tattoo? was it two inches or did it spread all over your arm? did you have more? maybe you just had one big tattoo??

all of his thoughts came to a halt when he heard a soft moan escape from your plush lips. yunho thought he was imagining things especially as he quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard such a delicious sound.

luckily, no one else had.

something brewed in the depths of yunho's stomach. he couldn't figure it out. especially not when you whipped your head around to ask him about meeting up later this week to work on the project.

"yeah, t-totally. i'm free whenever." actually no he was not but he could push some things around if needed.

"great," you clasp your hands together, "are you free later tonight? around like 8? i rather get ahead now and then meet up later if needed."

yunho nodded. he didn't know what he was agreeing to and he didn't really care.

"sick, can i get your number or instagram so we can communicate for the project."

god, you were doing all the heavy lifting for him.

"for sure, what's your number?" yunho answered already whipping out his phone from his back pocket. he opted for the number cause lord knows what he would do if he had easy access to photos of you.

---

by the time eight pm rolled around, yunho managed to keep himself together as he drove over. he drilled it into his head that he needed to not be a fucking creep-at least not right in front of you.

when you opened the door, a sweet familiar scent wafted out into the hallway.

"hey, come in." you move out of the doorway so he could come through. "my roommate just told me she was gonna have some friends over so we gotta do work in my room, if that's alright."

oh this was dangerous.

"yeah, no worries. i don't mind."

yunho dutifully follows you into your room after slipping off his shoes. the room was a little on the smaller side with your only real work space being your desk.

"you can take the desk and i'll just work from my bed."

it was like you read his mind.

yunho didn't say much as he took over the desk. taking his chance to look at the trinkets and photos that you had on your desk. by the time, the two of you were settled and ready to work, your phone rang.

"ah shit," you mumble. "give me a minute."

you quickly walk out of the room to take the call, leaving yunho alone.

pushing back on the chair, he lazily spun in a half circle to get a good look at your room. music posters were mixed in with different art prints on the walls. you had blue floral sheets and a few stuffed animals on your bed. across the room you had a dark wooden dresser that was topped with a messy jewelry stand along with a few other scattered accersories.

there was a tempting urge rising in yunho. the type of urge that toyed with his head and wanted him to do questionable things.

he glanced back at his phone to check the time. 8:07pm. barely a minute had passed. his thoughts drifted to how long the call would take.

trying his best to be a good boy, yunho pushed himself further into the chair and stared up at the ceiling. he needed you to come back quickly. he needed to get this project going so he could finally take his mind off things.

a familiar ping reached yunho's ears as he sat up and stared back at his phone.

y/n: hey i'm so sorry. i'm gonna be a bit

y/n: some rommate stuff came up.

yunho: all good. i got nowhere else to be lol

y/n: i should be back in ten?

y/n: i'll keep you updated

yunho liked the message and placed his phone back on the table. he leaned back one more time into the chair contemplating if he should get up and snoop around. well, more like get a closer look at things while he waited.

what? he just tryna use his phone less you know? lower his screen time and whatever.

he quietly stalked around your room, taking the time to look at everything in detail. he could see small dark spots appearing on some of your posters on the wall from the putty you used to hang them up. the urge began to grow even more.

eventually, he ended up on the other side near your drawer and closet. yunho's gaze stayed fixated on the wooden drawer. he could easily guestimate what was in those drawers but something in him was clawing at him to just open a drawer. just a smidge. take a quick peek of what was in there and go back to the desk.

his hand shook slightly as he reached out towards the drawer, quickly and quietly he peered into the shallow wood. his eyes raked over the colorful panties that was carefully folded and organized and the short stack of bras off to the side alongside your pile of socks.

yunho's body felt hot all over. the urge was spilling over whatever imaginary pot that was his mind.

he turned his gaze towards the door as he listened to the faint hushes of your voice out the door and small footsteps pacing outside the hallway. based on how quiet your voice was you had to be a good distance away and if you did come into the room yunho would've heard your footsteps and scrambled back to the desk.

his mouth felt dry as his fingers made contact with the soft fabric of your underwear. he didn't know what was he was searching for exactly but you wouldn't notice if a pair was missing from the back of your drawer right?

yunho's fingers brushed against that wasn't as soft. carefully, he smoothed his fingertips over the material again and quickly realized that it was a mix of lace and sheer.

without hesitating, yunho grabbed the material and balled into his fist before closing the drawer tightly. he zipped across the room and back to the desk and fired up his laptop again to begin pretending that he was doing work.

a few seconds later, yunho could hear your soft footsteps getting louder and closer.

"hey, so sorry about that. my roommate's package got stolen and she needed it for an event this weekend." your eyes fall on yunho who was already staring back at you, "it was a lot, y-yeah. anyways, how do we feel about splitting up the work?"

that entire night was a blur, yunho was forced to lock in not because your stolen underwear was sitting crumpled up in his pants pocket but because yunho couldn't fuck around anymore in class. his grade needed a good score from this project.

after discussing what portions needed to be completeed and when they needed to be done by, it was well late into the night and as much as yunho wanted to stay even longer, he didn't know much he could last in a whole room that smelled like you.

you both agreed to meet up again two weeks before the project was due as a check-in with each other to see if they needed to fix or change anything up before polishing it off.

as yunho left your apartment, he doubled check to see if the mysterious fabric was still in his pants. he also realized he didn't know what the fuck he pulled out from your drawer. it was most likely some lacy underwear just guessing by the fabric and how little there was of it.

when he got home, yunho dropped his bag and immediately got ready for a shower. as soon as he locked the door and turned on the water, yunho finally fished the item from his pants. the same heart racing feeling crept back into his chest.

he found a dark green lacy underwear with sheer material on the ends. yunho could feel the tips of his ears burn.

lingere in his favorite color?

fuckkk, he was about to have the time of his life in that shower.

stepping into the lukewarm water, he turned up the heat just a little more with his free hand. yunho let the water hit the top of his head and fall down his back as he lazily stroked himself. he closed his eyes and saw glimpses of you in class. he fantasied about you back in class practically begging him to fuck you in the middle of lecture.

yunho turned to face the shower head and leaned against the wall, using his left hand he started stroking himself with your underwear. he closed his eyes and pretended that water soaked underwear was drenched from you.

back in the classroom, you would whisper something nasty to him in his ear before leaning back in your chair and spreading your legs to reveal the same dark green underwear under your skirt.

"fuck." yunho groaned

the thought of you wearing such a lewd outfit for him. only him. had him seeing stars. the added roughness from the lace added a different type of pleasure to yunho.

"shit." yunho started pumping himself even harder, the usual wet noises from jacking off amplified in the shower as the water provided some type of weak lube that allowed him to move even faster.

another moan escaped from his lips. he was close.

his mind drifted back to you in class with your legs spread wide open in the back of the class without a care in the world for the professor in front. yunho had lost all sense of rationality once he slipped his dick in. a new sort of warm and soft sensations took over him as he began pounding into you. loud moans escaped your mouth causing people nearby to drop their jaws wide open but yunho couldn't care less.

everything felt so good.

"come on baby." yunho grunted moving his hips even faster. "f-ffuckk."

another loud moan erupted from you as yunho thrusted one more time. when he opened his eyes, he was back in his shower with your underwear absolutely ruined with his cum.

god, when was the last time he came that much?

it was actually a miracle how yunho acted so calm and collected near you after that night. he actually spent class paying attention cause he couldn't afford to look in your direction before he went insane and got hard again.

about a week after meeting up for the first time, yunho saw you at his apartment complex again. he was (im)patiently waiting for his doordash to come to his door and kept peeking out the peephole to see if his dasher was nearby.

switching from his phone and the door, he perked up whenever he heard footsteps and voices out in the hallway. to his surprise, he saw you in a comfy fit walking past his door. were you visiting his neighbors next door?

the fact that he could still faintly hear your voice from inside his apartment told him that you most definitely were.

interesting.

he waited until his dasher finally dropped off his food and disappeared into the hallway before stepping out to grab his takeout. yunho looked over to his neighbor's door to see you gone.

he shook his head, well of course, you wouldn't be there. he had waited at least two minutes before opening his door. before he could dwell on your presence a second longer he stalked off into his room and plopped down at his desk.

by the time he finished eating a half hour passed by and yunho was already beginning his nightly routine, starting with a shower. while he was waiting for the water to warm up his mind drifted back to you. were you still over? why did you come over? did you know that he lived next door?

all of his thoughts ceased when he heard a familiar voice.

yunho whipped his head to the sound. the walls in his apartment were pretty thin and it wasn't common to hear some interesting things coming from the walls but something was different this time.

slowly, he crept towards his shower and turned off the water for a second. there was no way.

"ah, fuck!" you cried followed by a similar moan he heard in class that one day.

oh my god.

the same creeping urge came back in yunho's stomach. it was you. next door, getting absolutely railed.

yunho didn't know if he should be jealous or fucking bricked up. another moan from you caused yunho to look down at his already hardened cock.

"well, shit." yunho murmured.

he turned the water back on but not so much that the water was roaring and covering up your voice. before hopping into the tub, yunho grabbed your stolen panties fresh from the wash. fuck he was gonna have to do another load, wasn't he.

yunho found himself leaning against the wall of the shower once more with your lacy panties in hand. he couldn't hear jack besides your moans but he let his imagination fill in the gaps of what was happening.

he started off slow, stroking his cock in agonizing pace, trying to match up your moans with his.

"mhm, fuck!" you cried again from the other side.

yunho bucked his hips into the panties and then again when he heard your voice again.

when he closed his eyes he was fucking you from behind. your hands were behind your back trapped together in yunho's palm as his other hand was digging into your shoulder. his hips ramming into your ass in a constant pace. he imagined your sweet moans dripping from your mouth and how soft and wet your pussy would feel. how his dick would mold a place into your hole from him.

yunho felt insane.

opening his eyes to see the white tiled shower grounded him back to reality. a tiny bit of him felt ashamed and guilty that he was completely obliterating your panties and ruining them with his cum.

he imagined giving them back to you with a fresh load of his semen staining the material and you just wearing them without him even saying anything. just thought of your pussy dripped in his own cum made him lose it.

at this point, yunho didn't really care if you and whoever you were fucking could hear him. a small voice in his head that if they did hear him maybe it would make you jealous or something.

after bucking his hips one more time he finally spilled his seed into the palm of his hand, the cold water dripping onto his skin making him hyper-aware of everything. he pressed his ear against the wet wall one more time and when he didn't hear anything after a few seconds, he pulled away.

“That’s not a sentence normal people say.”

“I know.”

“You’ve also rejected six jackets.”

“I’ve rejected four.”

Y/N snorted and pointed at the chair. “There are literally six on that chair.” Yunho finally selected another jacket, holding it against himself before studying the mirror with a level of concentration that would have made planning a military campaign seem casual as Y/N smiled to herself. “You know…” He hummed absentmindedly. “I think you’re nervous.” Yunho scoffed. “I am not.” He sighed, abandoning the jacket altogether before turning toward her. I have attended approximately two hundred royal banquets. I have survived assassination attempts at twelve of them. I have negotiated peace between noble houses that had been trying to murder each other for centuries.” Y/N tilted her head. “So why does picking a jacket suddenly seem impossible?” He stared at her for a long moment before he answered with complete sincerity. “Because this one matters.” Her teasing smile softened as he crossed the room, stopping in front of her. “This isn’t just another banquet. They’re coming to see you. They’ll judge everything. Your dress. Your manners. Your smile…..” She reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. “They can judge all they want.” His thumb brushed over her ring as she looked up at him with a playful glint returning to her eyes. “Speaking of judgment…. other than Estrie…. who exactly should I be worried about tonight?”

Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed. “Worried?” He asked and she shrugged innocently. “You know… and other women hopelessly obsessed with my husband?” Yunho blinked then laughed under his breath. “You sound like the possessive one now.” She smiled sweetly. “And you made me this way.” That earned a genuine laugh from him. “I’m married to the Prince of Hell.” She leaned back onto her hands. “Four hundred years old. Ridiculously attractive.” Yunho grinned, leaning over her, caging her in on the bed. “So I’ve been told.” Y/N bit her bottom lip as his hand started trailing up her leg. “Powerful.” He hummed, gripping her thigh. “I suppose.” She narrowed her eyes. “You cannot convince me there weren’t dozens.” Yunho stared down at her, hand pausing at her thigh. “Depends on what you mean by obsessed and ex.” She pointed accusingly, finger poking his chest. “That is not the answer of an innocent man.” Yunho smirked, hand finally moving from her thigh and slipping under the shirt she had on, the heat of his hand hot against her under the soft underwear she had on. “I’m the son of the devil…. Innocent isn’t in my vocabulary.”

Y/N gasped dramatically, feigning shock. “I knew it.” He chuckled. “There were…” He searched for the least painful way to phrase it. “…interested parties. Though the only real ex is just Keres.” Y/N stared at him. “Keres is really your only ex?” Yunho nodded, slipping his hand finally under her panties, one finger slowly stroking at her clit and she could barely narrow her eyes at him as pleasure shot through her. “You expect me to believe you’re four hundred years old…” She moaned when he slid his finger down and added a second, thrusting them into her, curving them just slightly. “…and only had one relationship?” Yunho simply shrugged, pumping his fingers in and out of her slowly. “I didn’t do relationships. There were plenty of…” He gestured vaguely with his free hand. “…offers.” Y/N bucked up meeting his hand as he started thrusting his fingers faster and Yunho leaned down, kissing at her neck. “I am trying very hard to use words that don’t get me in trouble with my wife.” He started moving deeper now, rubbing her clit with his thumb as he let her cling to him, taking control and fucking herself with his fingers. He could tell she was close with the way she was clenching him and little splashes of wetness started spraying his hand…..

Three sharp knocks echoed through the chambers. “Go away,” Yunho called without taking his eyes off Y/N as the doors swung open anyway and Seonghwa stepped inside carrying a garment bag over one arm. His gaze landed on the two of them sprawled across the bed, Y/N clinging to the prince, one hand wrapped around one of his horns while it was very clear where Yunho’s own hand was. And what he was doing. “You two really can’t keep your hands off each other for a few minutes can you?” Seonghwa asked flatly as Yunho looked over his shoulder with complete calm as he pulled his hand away from Y/N who jumped back, clenching her thighs together. “You really should start knocking.” Seonghwa stared at them. “I did.”

“Longer.”

“I gave you ten seconds.”

Y/N buried her face in Yunho’s shoulder, flushed, edged and trying not to laugh as Seonghwa sighed the sigh of a man who had lived for centuries and somehow still found himself supervising Lucifer’s son. “For the record,” he said dryly, “the shower incident should have taught both of you to lock the doors.” He held up the garment bag. “Princess, your dress is finished.” That immediately got Y/N’s attention. “Already?” Seonghwa nodded. “The seamstresses has worked on it before you got back from Greece.“ His expression softened as he offered her a small smile. “His Majesty wanted everything to be perfect for your first welcoming banquet.” Y/N carefully slipped out from under Yunho’s embrace and crossed the room, accepting the garment bag with both hands. “Thank you.” Seonghwa accepted Y/N’s thanks with a small incline of his head, his expression settling back into the composed neutrality he seemed to wear as naturally as breathing. “You’re welcome, Princess.” His eyes shifted toward Yunho then, all traces of dry amusement disappearing beneath the quiet professionalism that made him Lucifer’s most trusted. “Your Highness… His Majesty would like to see you before the banquet.” Yunho’s easy smile faded just enough for Y/N to notice. “Now?”

“He asked that you come as soon as you’re available.” There was no elaboration beyond that. Seonghwa rarely carried questions that belonged to the King himself. Yunho studied him for another second, searching his face for some clue, but found nothing except the same calm expression Seonghwa had perfected centuries ago. “I’ll be there in a minute.” With one final nod, Seonghwa slipped from the chambers, the heavy doors closing behind him with a soft thud. The room settled into silence again, though it felt noticeably different now. Yunho remained where he was for a moment, his thoughts turning over the summons. Father doesn’t interrupt preparations unless something’s happened. The welcoming banquet was only hours away. Every noble house in Hell would be arriving. If it had been about seating arrangements, politics, or protocol, Seonghwa could have handled it himself. Which meant it almost certainly wasn’t about the banquet. Before he could think any further, the doors opened yet again without so much as a warning.

“There you are,” Wooyoung announced as he strolled into the room like he owned it, a grin already spreading across his face. Hongjoong walked in behind him with his hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored coat, looking thoroughly unsurprised by the lack of etiquette, while San followed last, the archangel offering Y/N an apologetic smile that silently acknowledged he had, once again, failed to stop his lover from barging in uninvited. Yunho stared at the pair for a long moment before one eyebrow slowly lifted. “You were supposed to stay in Greece.” Wooyoung shrugged as though that detail had simply slipped his mind. “I got bored.”

“You got bored.”

“It was too quiet.”

“You were supposed to be hiding.”

Wooyoung waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not like God was coming to Hell anytime soon.” San let out a long, patient sigh, the kind that suggested this argument had already happened at least three times on the journey back. “For the record,” he said, looking toward Yunho instead, “I told him that wasn’t a valid reason.”

“And yet,” Wooyoung replied smugly, slinging an arm around the archangel’s shoulders, “here we are.” Hongjoong snorted under his breath as despite the knot of curiosity still sitting in the back of his mind, Yunho couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped him. He shook his head once before turning back toward Y/N, his expression softening. “I’ll be back.” She smiled, lifting the garment bag slightly. “I’ll be here.” His hand brushed briefly against hers before he stepped into the corridor, the palace swallowing him almost immediately. The further he walked from his chambers, the quieter everything became. Servants hurried through the halls carrying crystal, flowers, and polished silver destined for the banquet hall while guards stationed outside the royal wing straightened the instant they saw him approaching. By the time Yunho reached the towering obsidian doors leading to Lucifer’s private chambers, the atmosphere had shifted completely. The doors already stood open and his father was waiting.

The King of Hell stood before the enormous window overlooking Hell City, the crimson glow of the city painting sharp edges across his silhouette. He didn’t acknowledge Yunho’s entrance right away. He simply continued looking out, hands folded behind his back, as though giving his son just enough time to wonder what he’d done. Something he hasn’t had to do in a good century at least. “Father?” Lucifer finally turned. His expression was unreadable. “Balthazar came to see me this morning.” Yunho leaned one shoulder casually against the stone archway, trying a smile that had gotten him out of trouble more than once over the last four hundred years. “Isn’t it still a little early for the welcoming banquet?” Lucifer didn’t even acknowledge the joke. “He informed me that his son arrived at his estate late last night.” His voice remained level, measured, almost conversational. “According to Balthazar, Dante was… angry. Distraught.” He let the words settle before continuing. “Apparently, he had taken a succubus as a lover.” Lucifer’s eyes never left Yunho’s. “This morning… he found her dead.”

Silence stretched between them as Yunho’s expression barely changed. He simply gave a small, almost indifferent shrug. “I didn’t kill her.”

“No,” Lucifer replied evenly. “You didn’t.” The words hung in the air between father and son. “But,” Lucifer continued after a beat, “I suspect you know exactly who did.” He held his son’s gaze, waiting. And for a moment neither of them spoke. The silence stretched long enough that most would have rushed to fill it with excuses or denials. Yunho didn’t. Something in his expression changed instead. The warmth that had been there moments ago with Y/N disappeared so completely it was almost unsettling. The easygoing husband who had been laughing in his chambers seemed to melt away, leaving behind the prince who had spent four centuries surviving Hell. His shoulders remained relaxed, his face almost unreadable, but there was a cold certainty in his eyes that made it unmistakably clear where half of his blood came from. “I did what you taught me.” Yunho pushed himself away from the stone archway and took a slow step forward, his voice remaining calm, almost conversational. “Dante threatened my wife. Again.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t sound angry. That, more than anything, reminded Lucifer of himself. “So…” Yunho gave a small shrug, as though the conclusion had been painfully obvious. “I took something of his.”

Lucifer studied him in silence. “You taught me,” Yunho continued, “that rulers who only react to attacks itself lose. You taught me that if someone insists on reaching for something that’s mine…” His jaw clenched. “…they should learn what it feels like to lose something they believed was theirs.” The King’s expression remained unreadable as his son stared at him. “I told you,” he said evenly, “I didn’t kill her.” It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the whole truth, either. And Lucifer knew his son well enough to hear the distinction. A faint, almost reluctant smile threatened the corner of his mouth before disappearing just as quickly. “You’ve become very careful with your words.”

“You taught me that, too.”

A quiet huff of amusement escaped Lucifer’s nose. “For centuries,” he murmured, almost to himself, “I wondered when you would finally start sounding like me.” Yunho didn’t smile. “I hope not.” That earned him Lucifer’s full attention. “No?”

“I watched what it cost you.” For the first time since the conversation had begun, genuine emotion flickered across Lucifer’s face. Brief. And gone almost as quickly as it appeared. His gaze drifted toward the sprawling city beyond the window before returning to his son. “I understand why you did what you did,” he said at last. “What concerns me is not the succubus. It’s Dante. He’ll smile at you tonight. He’ll drink my wine, congratulate your wife that he now probably wants to kill more than before, bow when protocol demands it…” His voice grew quieter. “…and the entire time, he’ll be looking for the right time to strike.” Yunho didn’t hesitate. “He looks at her wrong…. I’ll kill him. I don’t care anymore.” Lucifer watched his son for a long moment before giving a slow nod. “Four hundred years,” he said quietly, “and today is the first day I’ve looked at you and seen the King you’ll become.”

“I wasn’t thinking like a king.”

“No?”

“I was thinking like a husband.”

For a second, Lucifer was transported back centuries, remembering the lengths he himself had gone to for the human woman who had become his queen. A faint smile, equal parts pride and concern, crossed his face. “That,” he said softly, “is precisely why you were thinking like one.” Lucifer held his son’s gaze for a long moment, the faint smile disappearing as quickly as it had come. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter than before, stripped of the authority of a king until only a father remained. “I know you love her.” The words weren’t a question. They were an observation and Yunho didn’t hesitate. “More than anything.” The answer left his mouth so naturally that he didn’t even think about it. Only after the silence settled between them did he notice the subtle shift in his father’s expression. “That’s dangerous.”

Yunho frowned. “Loving my wife?”

“No.” Lucifer slowly turned back toward the enormous window overlooking Hell City, the crimson lights reflecting across the glass. “Admitting, even to yourself, that there is nothing you value above her.” Yunho was quiet as his father clasped his hands behind his back, staring out over the kingdom he had ruled for millennia. “Do you remember what you said Dante told you?” Yunho’s jaw tightened. “I remember.” Lucifer nodded slowly. “He understood something you hadn’t yet.” Lucifer finally turned to face his son again. “He knew there would come a day when losing her would become worse than your own death.” Yunho’s expression hardened, but he said nothing. “That is why he said he would wait. And now he doesn’t have to wait anymore.” The words landed with a weight that seemed to steal the air from the room. “You answered me without thinking.” Lucifer’s eyes never left his son’s. “‘More than anything.’” Yunho replayed his own words in his mind. He hadn’t weighed them. He hadn’t chosen them carefully. They had simply been true. “You’ve just told me…” Lucifer’s voice softened. “…that if someone took her from you…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. His gaze drifted toward the palace beyond the window. Only a little over a week ago, Y/N had been a complete stranger. The thought almost seemed ridiculous now. In the span of days, since the earthquake… since the covenant… since watching her stumble through a world she’d never asked to be a part of… she’d somehow become everything to him. Now… the thought of an eternity without her wasn’t something he could even picture.

Lucifer saw the realization settle across his son’s face and closed his eyes for the briefest moment. “I know that look.” Yunho glanced back at him. “I wore it once myself.” The room fell quiet again. And when Lucifer spoke next, there was no king in his voice. Only a husband who had buried the woman he loved. “Protect her with everything you have.”

“I will.”

“I know you will.”

Yunho remained where he was, his father’s words settling somewhere deep inside him. Outside the towering windows, Hell carried on as it always had. Markets bustled. Trains crossed the city. Somewhere below, musicians continued rehearsing for the banquet that would begin in only a few hours. “I should get back. She’ll probably be trying on her dress by now.” A faint smile tugged at Lucifer’s mouth as he watched his son turn toward the doorway. “Yunho.” His hand paused against the dark obsidian doorframe. “Hm?” The warmth gradually disappeared from Lucifer’s expression. “Y/N doesn’t know it yet…” His amber eyes remained fixed on his son. “but she already has enemies.” Silence settled heavily between them and Yunho’s expression hardened. “Eres isn’t the only noble who spent centuries imagining a different future for this kingdom.” Lucifer began pacing slowly across the room, each measured step echoing softly against the polished black stone. “Some wanted their daughters to marry you. Others wanted their sons. There are houses who have spent generations building alliances around assumptions that no longer exist. And now those assumptions have a face.” Lucifer stopped beside the window overlooking Hell City. “They will smile.” His voice remained calm. “They will congratulate her.” He looked back over one shoulder. “They will bow. And every one of them will spend the evening deciding whether your wife is worthy of standing beside the future King of Hell. Or if they should kill her.”

Yunho didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Lucifer could practically hear the thoughts moving behind his son’s eyes. “They won’t simply judge her,” Lucifer continued quietly. “They’ll measure her. They’ll test her. Some subtly.” His expression darkened. “Some won’t be subtle at all.” Yunho took a slow step forward. “If anyone does anything to her…..” Lucifer raised a hand, stopping him before the sentence could finish. “I know exactly what you’ll do.” His voice wasn’t critical. If anything… it carried the weary understanding of someone who’d once stood exactly where Yunho stood now. “And that is precisely why I’m telling you this before it happens.” Yunho held his father’s gaze. “What are you asking me to do?” Lucifer was silent for a long moment before answering. “I’m asking you to remember…” His eyes drifted briefly toward the city beyond the glass. “that tonight isn’t about proving you’re the strongest man in the room.” His gaze returned to his son. “It’s about making sure she never feels alone in it.” Yunho looked away, imagining Y/N laughing in their chambers only minutes earlier, teasing him over jackets, completely unaware that by nightfall she’d be standing before centuries of Hell’s aristocracy. “She won’t.”

Lucifer searched his son’s face. “No,” he agreed quietly. “I don’t believe she will.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

An hour before the welcoming banquet, the chambers had transformed into controlled chaos. Servants hurried through the suite carrying velvet boxes filled with jewelry, polished shoes, trays of cosmetics, and steaming cups of tea that somehow always seemed destined for someone else. Somewhere behind the closed bathroom door, the steady rush of water echoed through the chambers as Yunho took a shower. “Your Highness, if you’ll lift your arm just a little.” Y/N did as she was asked, allowing two seamstresses to carefully settle the final layer of the gown over her shoulders. The dress was breathtaking. Deep wine colored velvet hugged her figure before spilling into a dramatic train embroidered with dark roses, vines, and gold detailing that seemed almost alive beneath the light. Delicate chains draped elegantly across the bodice and waist, catching flashes of crimson from the chandeliers overhead whenever she moved. The illusion sleeves were embroidered with tiny blossoms and metallic thread that climbed gracefully over her arms before disappearing across the open back.

When the attendants stepped away, even they paused for a moment. “Princess,” one whispered almost reverently. “You look extraordinary.” Y/N glanced toward the enormous mirror. She almost didn’t recognize herself. “I look…” Her voice trailed off. “expensive.” Several of the seamstresses laughed softly. “That too,” one admitted as a knock sounded at the sitting room door before Seonghwa stepped inside carrying another small velvet box. He stopped and for perhaps the first time since Y/N had met him….. he actually looked momentarily speechless. “His Majesty chose well.” Y/N smiled sheepishly. “I keep feeling like I’m about to trip over half of it.” One of the older seamstresses smiled reassuringly. “You won’t. We’ve enchanted the train. It’ll follow your movement.”

“Seriously?”

The woman nodded proudly and then herself and the other attendants quietly excused themselves to retrieve the remaining jewelry, leaving Seonghwa and Y/N alone. The sound of the shower continued beyond the bathroom door as Y/N glanced toward it. “Can I ask you something?” Seonghwa looked up from the velvet box. “Of course.” She hesitated for only a second. “It’s… kind of awkward.”

“I’ve known Lucifer for over six hundred years.” His expression remained perfectly calm. “I assure you, my threshold for awkward conversations is remarkably high.” Despite herself, Y/N laughed. “Fair enough.” She lowered her voice instinctively, glancing once more toward the bathroom. “So…” She rubbed the back of her neck. “When Yunho and I were in Greece… I asked him whether birth control even works with demons. He had no idea.” Seonghwa tried not to look amused. “He wouldn’t.” She tilted her head. “He wouldn’t?” Seonghwa shook his head once. “Prince Yunho has never had reason to concern himself with contraception before.” She cleared her throat. “Right. So… is there… something?” A tiny flicker of understanding crossed Seonghwa’s face. “There is.” Y/N visibly relaxed. “Really?” He nodded. “Several remedies, actually.” He folded his hands neatly behind his back. “The most common is an herb cultivated in the southern territories. It has an unfortunate name.” Y/N smiled. “How unfortunate?”

“Widow’s Fern. But it is considerably less alarming than the name suggests.” A faint hint of amusement touched the corner of his mouth. “The leaves are dried and steeped into a tea. One full glass each week.” He spoke with the matter of fact certainty of someone reciting well established knowledge. “When taken consistently, it is considered highly reliable.” Y/N let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “So… most demons use that?”

“Those who wish to avoid pregnancy, yes.” He inclined his head politely. “It has been used for centuries.”

“Any side effects?”

“Occasionally it tastes dreadful.”

She laughed. “I can live with that.”

“The palace apothecary keeps a supply. If you’d like, I can have some delivered discreetly to your chambers.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“It will be done.” Another comfortable silence settled between them before Seonghwa glanced toward the closed bathroom door. “I suspect His Highness will eventually ask why tea has begun appearing every week.” Y/N grinned. “I’ll tell him after he admits I’m right.” Seonghwa arched a brow, his lip twitching. “About?” Y/N looked too pleased with herself now. “That he doesn’t actually know everything.” The ghost of a smile crossed Seonghwa’s face. “I wouldn’t wait too long.” She laughed. “That stubborn?” Seonghwa looked toward the bathroom with quiet familiarity. “I helped raise him. I assure you…… he inherited it honestly.” Almost as if on cue, the shower shut off and Y/N and Seonghwa exchanged an amused look. “I believe,” Seonghwa said smoothly, “my cue to disappear has arrived.” He offered her a respectful bow. “You truly look every bit the Princess of Hell.” With that, he slipped quietly from the chambers and for a few quiet seconds, the only sounds were the distant bustle of servants beyond the corridor and the faint drip of water still falling somewhere inside the marble bathroom alongside the sound of Yunho’s feet shuffling. Y/N glanced down at the ring on her finger, absentmindedly turning the blue gemstone beneath the light before smoothing one hand over the rich velvet of her gown.

She’d never worn anything like it. The circlet Lucifer had commissioned rested lightly against her hair, the black crystals catching the light every time she moved. She still wasn’t entirely convinced the woman in the mirror was her as the bathroom door opened and steam rolled lazily into the room before Yunho stepped out, a black towel secured low around his waist, another draped over one shoulder as he rubbed absentmindedly at his damp hair. “I was thinking…” he began, not yet looking up. “After tonight maybe we could sneak out onto one of the upper balco…” His voice stopped and he froze completely. The towel slipped from his shoulder and landed soundlessly on the marble floor as Y/N looked up from the mirror. “What?” He hadn’t moved. Not even a little. His hand still rested in his damp hair, frozen exactly where it had been. His brown eyes were locked on her and the room suddenly felt very, very quiet as she smiled, unable to help herself. “Is something wrong?”

Yunho’s gaze traveled over her slowly. From the circlet nestled in her hair…. to the delicate embroidery climbing her shoulders… the deep crimson velvet that seemed to glow against her skin…… the elegant chains catching the light with every breath she took…. before finally returning to her face. “No.” The word came out almost as a whisper before he laughed quietly at himself. “I genuinely thought nothing would ever compare to seeing you walk toward me the day we got married.” His eyes softened. “I was wrong.” Y/N watched him carefully as he crossed the room, never once taking his eyes off her. There wasn’t hunger in his expression. There wasn’t even surprise anymore. Only something that looked remarkably close to awe as he stopped directly in front of her. “So this…” she teased gently, “…is acceptable?” Yunho let out one disbelieving huff of laughter. “Acceptable?” His hands settled lightly against her waist, careful not to wrinkle the velvet. “You look like every painter who’s ever existed would’ve given up after seeing you.” She laughed, ducking her head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“I don’t care.”

“It was dramatic.”

“It was accurate.” He studied her again, his smile growing almost helpless. “I’ve seen queens.” His voice had grown even softer now. “Empresses. Noblewomen from kingdoms that don’t even exist anymore.” His thumb brushed lightly against the fabric resting at her waist. “I’ve watched people spend fortunes trying to look unforgettable.” His eyes met hers. “And somehow…” A quiet smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “my wife walks into the room and makes four hundred years of memories feel completely inadequate.” Y/N felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. “You keep saying things like that…” She reached up, smoothing a damp strand of silver hair away from his forehead. “and I’m going to ruin you before the banquet even starts.” Yunho grinned. “I suppose that would upset the guests.”

“It absolutely would.”

For another long moment he simply looked at her. Then, almost absentmindedly, he reached for her left hand. The sapphire gemstone of her ring shimmered beneath the crimson light as he turned it gently between his fingers. His own matching band catching the light beside it. “Perfect,” he murmured and Y/N tilted her head. “The rings?” He looked back at her. “No.” A warm smile spread across his face again. “You.” And looking at her, Yunho wondered how he could of ever wanted to spend eternity alone before he met her…..

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Pandemonium never really slept. Even in the quiet hours before dawn, the palace breathed with movement. Servants crossed endless obsidian corridors carrying ledgers and silver trays, guards rotated shifts beneath towering archways, and somewhere deep within the city’s sprawling streets, bells announced the opening of the morning markets. Yunho moved through it all almost unnoticed. A fitted black shirt clung comfortably beneath the charcoal jacket he was buttoning as he walked, his silver hair still slightly damp from an early shower. One hand adjusted the leather holster secured beneath the jacket while the other checked the small infernal watch resting around his wrist. North America. Los Angeles. Another contracted soul. Another ordinary morning. He rounded the final corner toward the enormous palace gates when a familiar voice echoed down the corridor. “Leaving already?”

Yunho stopped. “Father.” Lucifer stood leaning casually against one of the massive stone columns bordering the hallway, dressed as though he were about to attend a royal council instead of intercepting his son before breakfast. One hand lazily swirled a crystal glass filled with dark wine despite the early hour, the corners of his mouth already threatening a smile. “I was wondering if I’d catch you.”

“You have.”

“I noticed.”

Yunho folded his arms. “What did I do?”

Lucifer looked almost offended. “Must you have done something?”

“You only come looking for me before work when I’ve either annoyed you…” Yunho counted silently on his fingers. “or someone else.” Lucifer considered that. “Fair.” A reluctant smile tugged at Yunho’s mouth. “What is it?” Lucifer pushed himself away from the column. “Minor adjustment.” He produced a folded parchment from inside his coat before handing it across. “The original collection in Pasadena has been reassigned.” Yunho unfolded it. Instead of Pasadena… North Hollywood. His brow lifted slightly. “I wasn’t aware Fate had changed.”

“It didn’t.” Lucifer took another sip of wine. “The mortal suffered a cardiac arrest approximately thirty seven minutes ago.” Yunho scanned the page. Female. Twenty seven. North Hollywood. Time of collection: 12:17 pm. “No family present?” Lucifer shrugged. “A cheating husband.” Yunho folded the parchment again and slipped it inside his jacket. “I’ll take care of it.” Silence settled comfortably between them as Lucifer watched his son begin adjusting the cuffs of his jacket again. “Eres visited yesterday.” Yunho closed his eyes. “Did he.” Lucifer’s amusement became increasingly difficult to hide. “He did. He mentioned the proposal again.” A long sigh escaped Yunho. “Of course he did.” Lucifer stopped hiding his amusement fully now. “He remains remarkably persistent.”

“I remain remarkably uninterested.”

Lucifer chuckled. “He insists Estrie would make an exceptional princess.” Yunho let out a short, humorless laugh. “I’m sure she would.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’ve watched her slit a servant’s throat because he brought her the wrong wine.” Yunho shook his head. “I told you years ago.” His voice carried the same certainty it always did whenever the subject arose. “I’m not getting married.” Lucifer studied him. “Not ever?”

“No.”

“Eternity is a very long time.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“You’ve never considered…”

“No.”

Lucifer smiled faintly. “I hadn’t finished.”

“I know where the sentence was going.”

“You usually do.”

Yunho tucked both hands into his pockets. “I’ve seen what happens.” His gaze drifted toward the enormous windows overlooking Hell City. “Humans die. Demons are sent to purgatory. Everyone always dies. We don’t.” His expression remained calm, but there was something practiced beneath it. Something he’d repeated to himself for centuries. “I watched you lose Mother.” Lucifer’s smile disappeared. “I watched you spend decades pretending you were fine afterward. I watched you stand at her grave every year. I’m not doing that.” Lucifer didn’t interrupt. “I’m not going to fall in love with someone who’s guaranteed to leave.” Yunho looked back at his father. “And I’m certainly not marrying someone because politics says I should.” Lucifer regarded him for a long moment. “So that’s your final answer.” Yunho smiled crookedly. “For eternity.” Lucifer finished the last of his wine before handing the empty glass to a passing servant without looking. “I won’t force you. I simply hope…” His voice softened. “that one day you find someone who makes you regret this conversation.” Yunho smiled with complete confidence. “I won’t.”

Black smoke swallowed Yunho whole and the polished obsidian floors vanished beneath him as infernal magic folded space itself, the familiar pull lasting only a second before the sensation released him into the elevator. The ride up lasted no longer than a few minutes before the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. Warm California sunlight spilled in. His Los Angeles penthouse occupied the entire top floor of a sleek glass tower overlooking the city, every window stretching from floor to ceiling. From here, the Pacific glowed amber beneath the sinking sun, traffic crawled along the distant freeways like rivers of red and white light, and helicopters traced lazy circles across the skyline. To anyone who might have managed to enter the apartment, it looked exactly like the home of an obscenely wealthy young businessman. Minimalist furniture. Modern artwork. Expensive whiskey. Not a single indication its owner happened to be the Crown Prince of Hell.

Yunho loosened the collar of his jacket as he crossed the living room, dropping a set of infernal keys into a crystal bowl by the entrance out of habit more than necessity. He rarely spent more than a couple days here at a time, but it was useful. Earth required appearances. His phone, resting on the kitchen island where he’d left it the last time, vibrated the moment he picked it up. The screen illuminated with a single notification.

SOUL COLLECTION

STATUS: ACTIVE

He unlocked it and a map of Los Angeles unfolded across the display, glowing with faint crimson lines only Hell’s collectors could see. Thousands of tiny lights flickered throughout the city, each one representing a contracted soul whose thread had yet to be cut. Most remained dim but one suddenly ignited and the map narrowed automatically. NORTH HOLLYWOOD Yunho’s expression remained neutral as the streets enlarged. Victory Boulevard. Lankershim Boulevard. Closer. The location finalized and a small black pin settled over a familiar intersection. For the first time since arriving on Earth… Yunho frowned. “Really?” He zoomed in. There was no mistake. The collection wasn’t at a hospital. Nor an apartment. Nor a traffic accident. It was a nightclub. He recognized the building immediately. An upscale club tucked between renovated warehouses, popular with actors, musicians, influencers, and anyone with enough money to convince themselves they belonged there. Yunho had been there before. Not often but enough. It made collections easier sometimes. Crowded places hid supernatural events remarkably well.

His thumb tapped the notification and additional details expanded beneath the map before he slipped the phone into his pocket and glanced toward the western horizon. The sun had begun dipping behind the Pacific, washing the city in molten gold. Plenty of time. He walked toward the bedroom, exchanging his charcoal jacket for a black leather one more suited to an evening in Los Angeles. A pair of dark sunglasses disappeared into his pocket. Outside, the first neon signs of the evening had already begun flickering to life. The line outside the club stretched halfway down the block. Luxury cars idled at the curb while valet attendants hurried between them, their white gloves flashing beneath the glow of the marquee. Music pulsed faintly through the walls, the steady bass vibrating beneath the sidewalk long before anyone reached the front doors as Yunho adjusted the cuff of his leather jacket and approached the entrance. The bouncer looked up and for a brief second, their eyes met. A lower class demon. He bowed his head lightly at Yunho. “Evening, your highness.” The velvet rope lifted and Yunho slipped inside. Heat met him first. Then sound. The club was alive. Golden lights swept across the packed dance floor while violet lasers cut through drifting clouds of theatrical smoke. Crystal liquor bottles glittered behind a horseshoe shaped bar. Bartenders worked with practiced efficiency, shaking cocktails almost as quickly as patrons ordered them. Above it all, a DJ overlooked the crowd from an elevated booth, seamlessly blending one song into the next. It was loud. Chaotic. And human.

Yunho had always found places like this strangely comforting. Humans laughed louder when they forgot tomorrow existed. He walked slowly through the crowd, not searching with his eyes. Searching wasn’t necessary. Collectors felt souls nearing their appointed end. A faint warmth stirred somewhere deep beneath his ribs and he closed his eyes for only a moment. There. Second floor. VIP lounge. The sensation pulled gently, like an invisible thread. He climbed the staircase without hurry, weaving past couples and groups balancing expensive drinks. By the time he reached the upper level, the feeling had become unmistakable. Near the back corner. He spotted her immediately. Dark hair gathered loosely over one shoulder. An emerald dress. Wedding ring still resting on her finger. She sat alone in one of the velvet booths, untouched martini in front of her. Her mascara had begun to run. Across the room, separated only by polished glass, a man wrapped an arm around a much younger blonde woman while laughing at something she’d whispered into his ear. The husband. Yunho recognized him from the file. He hadn’t even bothered to hide.

The woman watched him for another few silent seconds before lowering her gaze into the untouched drink. Her shoulders rose with one shaky breath. Then another. Yunho remained where he was. He never interrupted. That wasn’t his place. Collectors observed. They waited. His eyes drifted briefly to the infernal watch around his wrist. 12:08 am. He leaned quietly against one of the columns overlooking the lounge, blending into the shadows with practiced ease. Around him, the music continued. People laughed. Glasses clinked. Someone celebrated a birthday only a few tables away. Life, oblivious as always, carried on. Then… the warmth beneath his ribs flickered. Not from the woman. From somewhere else. Faint. Different. It wasn’t the unmistakable pull of a soul nearing death. It was… something unfamiliar. Ancient. Powerful enough that even Yunho instinctively lifted his head. But the sensation disappeared as quickly as it had come, swallowed by the music and the sea of human souls surrounding him. He turned back towards the woman and she lifted her head, looking directly at him. No confusion. No fear. Just… recognition. A weary, heartbreaking kind of recognition.

The music around them continued to roar, but it seemed impossibly distant now. “You…” she whispered as Yunho stopped a few feet from the booth. “Yes.” Her eyes slowly filled with tears. “It… it’s time.” He gave a single nod. “It is.” A shaky laugh escaped her as she looked down at the wedding ring still resting on her finger. “I was seventeen.” Yunho didn’t interrupt her. “I thought…” She swallowed hard. “I thought he’d love me forever.” Across the lounge, her husband threw his head back laughing at something the other woman that wasn’t his wife had said. “I was so stupid.”

“You were seventeen,” Yunho replied quietly and she looked back at him. “I signed anyway.”

“You did.”

“I thought…” Another small, bitter laugh. “No one ever thinks they’re actually going to have to pay.” Silence settled between them as she drew one slow breath. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

She searched his face, as if looking for a lie but she didn’t find one. “My aunt used to tell me the devil was handsome.” The corner of Yunho’s mouth twitched. “I’ve heard that before.” Despite everything… she smiled. “So…” Her voice was barely audible now. “I guess this is goodbye.” Yunho glanced briefly toward the dance floor where her body remained slumped quietly against the velvet booth, hidden from immediate notice by the dim lights and high backed seating. The thread had already been cut. There was nothing left tying her here as he extended his hand. She looked at it for only a second before placing hers in his. Warm and weightless. The moment their fingers touched, the nightclub seemed to fall away. For just an instant, everything became still. Then the infernal markings along Yunho’s wrist glowed faintly beneath his sleeve. The collection was complete. The woman’s soul stood beside him now, looking one last time toward the man she’d sacrificed everything for. “He never loved me, did he?” Yunho followed her gaze. The husband hadn’t even noticed she’d died. “No.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I think…” She let out a long, tired breath. “I knew that for a long time.” Yunho didn’t offer false comfort. He’d learned centuries ago that honesty was often kinder. She nodded once. “I’m ready.” He inclined his head and infernal fire shimmered briefly around them before swallowing the woman completely and Yunho stood alone once more.

He slipped both hands into the pockets of his jacket, already turning toward the exit. Then… movement caught his eye. Not supernatural. Entirely human. Behind the sprawling marble bar on the lower level, two bartenders were trying, and failing, to keep straight faces. One of them was laughing so hard she had to brace herself against the counter while attempting to shake a cocktail while beside her, a red head was pointing toward an embarrassed customer who had apparently challenged the staff to let them choose his drink. “You said you trusted the bartender!” The red head shouted over the music. “I didn’t know she’d enjoy ruining my life!” The man cried out. “Oh, you’ll enjoy it,” the other woman shot back, grinning as she slid the brilliantly colored cocktail across the bar. “You just won’t enjoy the first sip.” The customer took a dramatic drink and his face immediately twisted in horror making both women burst into laughter. Yunho found himself… watching. For reasons he couldn’t explain. The woman next to the red head wasn’t the loudest person in the room. She wasn’t wearing the most expensive clothes either. A simple tank top and shorts. She wasn’t demanding attention. And yet…… his eyes stayed on her as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear while reaching for another glass, still smiling as the red head nudged her shoulder and the two exchanged another joke that disappeared beneath the music. Completely unaware someone was observing them.

Yunho glanced toward the entrance. He could leave. The assignment was finished. Nothing required him to stay another minute. A faint smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I suppose…” He adjusted the cuff of his jacket. “one drink won’t delay eternity.” With unhurried steps, the Crown Prince of Hell left the VIP lounge and made his way toward the bar, weaving effortlessly through the sea of dancers. He had every intention of ordering a drink. Nothing more. After all… he’d never been particularly interested in staying anywhere longer than necessary. He certainly had no reason to believe that the laughing bartender pouring cocktails below was about to become the one person capable of making him break every promise he’d made to himself for the last few centuries. The closer Yunho came, the louder the music became. The polished marble bar curved through the center of the club like its own stage, nearly every stool occupied while bartenders moved with effortless choreography behind it. Glasses clinked. Bottles spun through practiced hands. Someone a few seats away erupted into cheers after winning some kind of drinking bet.

He slipped into one of the empty stools near the end of the counter. Not close enough to demand immediate attention. But close enough to watch. The woman hadn’t noticed him yet. She was busy balancing three cocktail shakers between herself and the red head while laughing over something one of the regulars had said. “You made that way too strong,” Tiffany accused, stealing a sip from one of the drinks before immediately coughing and Y/N grinned without looking up. “He asked for a surprise.”

“He’s going to surprise himself right onto the floor.”

“He’ll tip better.”

“Or he’ll throw up.”

“Still counts as enthusiasm.”

Tiffany snorted. “You have issues.” Y/N shrugged, smirking. “So I’ve been told.” Yunho found himself smiling. It was… easy. Nothing about her looked rehearsed. Most bartenders in Los Angeles learned to perform for tips. Every smile calculated. Every laugh measured. She wasn’t performing. She was simply enjoying herself as she bumped Tiffany’s shoulder with her own while reaching for another bottle, nearly knocking a stack of clean glasses over. “Careful,” Tiffany laughed and Y/N laughed. “I caught them.” That laugh. There it was. The same bright, completely unrestrained laugh that had caught his attention upstairs. It carried surprisingly well through the music. Almost impossible not to hear. Almost impossible not to look toward. Apparently… he wasn’t the only one looking. Tiffany had been reaching for another bottle when her eyes flicked across the bar. Then, without moving anything but her lips, leaned toward Y/N. “Okay…..” Y/N continued pouring. “What?” Tiffany grinned. “Tall. Hot and blonde.” Y/N looked sideways. “What about him?” Tiffany’s grin spread slowly. “He’s been staring at you for, like…” She pretended to check an invisible watch. “three solid minutes.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “How do you know that?”

“Because,” Tiffany whispered, barely containing a smile, “I’m looking at him.” Y/N sighed before setting the shaker onto the counter. “If this is another one of your attempts to get me laid…”

“I didn’t say anything about getting laid.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I absolutely was.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Y/N finally gave in. “Fine.” She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before casually lifting her head. Her eyes swept across the bar. Past two businessmen. Past a couple arguing over tequila. Past another bartender delivering drinks. Then… she found him and for the briefest moment…. Everything else blurred. He was exactly as Tiffany had described. Tall. Broad shoulders beneath a black leather jacket. Silver blonde hair that looked almost white beneath the lights. The kind of face that belonged on a magazine cover rather than sitting alone at a nightclub bar. He wasn’t trying to get her attention. He wasn’t smirking. Wasn’t winking. Wasn’t doing anything men in clubs usually did. He was simply looking at her. Calmly and curiously. As though he’d been quietly observing the room and happened to settle on her. The moment their eyes met… one corner of his mouth lifted into the smallest, almost imperceptible smile. “See?” Tiffany nudged her. Y/N blinked, tearing her gaze away just long enough to grab the nearest glass. “Shut up.” Y/N tried very hard to sound unaffected. “He’s definitely tall.” Tiffany laughed so hard she nearly dropped the bottle she was holding. “I said hot first.” Y/N reached for a cocktail napkin, pretending to be far more interested in wiping the counter than the impossibly attractive stranger waiting several seats away. “I’ll ask what he’s drinking.” Tiffany leaned closer with a grin. “That’s my girl.”

Y/N took one steadying breath. It’s just a customer. An absurdly attractive customer. She grabbed a cocktail napkin and forced herself to walk the few steps down the bar with the same confidence she approached everyone else. Tiffany watched her go with a grin that practically screamed good luck. Y/N stopped in front of him. Up close… was somehow even more unfairly handsome. The amber lights above the bar caught the silver in his hair, giving it an almost ethereal glow, while his dark leather jacket fit broad shoulders that looked like they’d been sculpted rather than born. There wasn’t a wrinkle in his clothes, not a trace of intoxication in his eyes, and unlike nearly every man she’d served tonight… wasn’t looking at her chest. He was looking at her. Actually looking at her with an expression that somehow made her feel like she was the only person in the room. She smiled. “What can I get you?” Yunho returned the smile, small but genuine. “I’ll have an old fashioned.” Y/N nodded. “Classic.”

“I tend to be.”

The corner of her mouth lifted. “I’ll be the judge of that.” She turned toward the shelves behind her, reaching automatically for the bourbon as Yunho rested one forearm against the polished bar and watched. Not because she was making an old fashioned. He’d had hundreds. Because she made it… differently. There was no rushing. Every movement flowed naturally into the next. She stirred the drink instead of shaking it, her bracelets giving a soft metallic clink against the mixing glass before she lifted the orange peel between her fingers and expressed the oils over the surface with practiced precision. No unnecessary flair. Just confidence. “You’ve done this a lot,” Yunho observed and she didn’t look up. “Something like that.” She strained the drink over a large cube of crystal clear ice before setting the heavy glass onto a fresh cocktail napkin. “There.” She slid it toward him. “One old fashioned.”

Yunho wrapped long fingers around the glass and took one sip. Then another. “That’s excellent.” Y/N folded her arms against the bar. “I know.” He looked up and she wasn’t joking. Not really. There was a quiet confidence behind the answer that made him laugh softly. “I like honesty.”

“I figured.”

“What gave me away?”

“You ordered an old fashioned.”

He tilted his head. “And?”

“Men who order old fashioneds are either eighty…” She held up one finger. “trying very hard to seem sophisticated… or they actually know what they’re drinking.” She looked him up and down briefly. “I’m guessing you’re the third one.” Yunho stared at her, smirk tugging at his mouth. “There wasn’t a third option.”

“There is now.”

“And what is it?”

She smiled. “I’ll let you know after your second drink.” Yunho chuckled. “I see.”

“You’ll have to earn your classification.”

“I wasn’t aware I was being evaluated.”

“Everyone’s being evaluated.”

“Should I be nervous?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you were planning on asking me for something ridiculous.”

His brow lifted. “Like?”

“Can you make it stronger?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Can I get it for free?”

“I certainly wasn’t.”

“Smile more.”

A faint crease appeared between Yunho’s brows. “People actually say that?” She stared at him. “You’d be amazed.” He looked genuinely disappointed. “That seems… rude.” Y/N blinked. She’d expected arrogance. Cockiness. Some rehearsed pickup line. Not…. that. “It is,” she admitted as he set the glass down. “I have to admit…” He looked around the packed nightclub before returning his attention to her. “this may be the first time I’ve come somewhere for a drink and found the bartender more entertaining than the customers.” She raised an eyebrow. “Careful.”

“Why?”

“You’ve only had one sip.”

“And?”

“You might be blaming the alcohol for your flirting.”

His eyes warmed with amusement. “What makes you think I’m flirting?” She leaned one elbow onto the polished bar. “What makes you think you’re not?” For the first time in a very long time… Yunho found himself momentarily without an answer. Not because she had embarrassed him. Because she’d surprised him. A slow smile spread across his face. “Fair enough.” Yunho took another sip of his drink as another customer reached the bar and Y/N excused herself with an apologetic smile. “One second.” Yunho nodded. “I’ll survive.” He watched as she seamlessly slipped back into work mode. Someone wanted tequila recommendations. Another complained about a drink being too sweet. Someone farther down accidentally knocked over an entire beer. Not once did she lose her patience though. She joked with each person differently. Listened more than she spoke. Remembered regulars’ names. Even the people who clearly wanted her attention left smiling. Interesting. Most humans exhausted him by now. She… didn’t. She returned a minute later, setting fresh cocktail napkins back into place. “Sorry.”

“I wasn’t keeping score.”

“I appreciate that.” She leaned against the counter. “So…. you don’t seem like someone who comes to clubs.” He glanced around. “I don’t?” She shook her head. “No.” Yunho leaned a little closer across the counter as well, voice dropping a little. “What do I seem like then?” She studied him openly now. “You seem…” She searched for the right word. “quiet. But not shy. You observe people. You probably know more about everyone in this room than they know about themselves.” One of Yunho’s eyebrows rose. “That’s oddly specific.” She shrugged. “I watch people for a living. Bartenders become accidental therapists.” He almost laughed. “And you?” she asked. “What about me?”

“What do you do?”

Yunho’s fingers paused around his glass. It was an innocent question. Ordinary. One humans asked each other every day without considering how difficult the truth might be. He could hardly tell her he collected contracted souls on behalf of his father, the Devil, before returning through a hidden to a kingdom beneath the mortal world. Somehow, he suspected that would kill the effortless rhythm they’d fallen into. “Investments,” he answered after only the slightest hesitation. Y/N stared at him as Yunho lifted the glass to his mouth. “What?”

“Investments?”

“Yes.”

“That might be the vaguest answer anyone has ever given me.”

“It’s still an answer.”

“Barely.” She folded her arms across the bar, studying him with renewed suspicion. “What kind of investments?”

“Several kinds.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re terrible at lying.” Yunho nearly choked on his drink. He recovered quickly, lowering the glass with considerably more care than necessary as she watched him with a triumphant little smile. “I’m not lying.”

“You hesitated.”

“I was thinking.”

“You looked at your drink before answering.”

“I happen to like my drink.”

“And now you’re deflecting.”

“I’m impressed you noticed.”

“I told you.” She leaned closer, dropping her voice conspiratorially despite the music pounding around them. “Bartenders become accidental therapists. We can smell dishonesty.” Yunho couldn’t help laughing. He’d negotiated treaties with demons who could smell fear, lied to kings while standing over the bodies of their advisors, and once convinced an entire monastery that the creature haunting its catacombs was merely an aggressive draft. Yet this human woman had dismantled his carefully selected occupation within thirty seconds. “Fine,” he conceded. “I manage private assets.” He smiled against the rim of his glass. “I travel. I negotiate contracts. I handle acquisitions for my family.” That, at least, was mostly true. The contracts simply happened to be signed in blood, and the acquisitions tended to involve immortal souls. “My father owns several businesses.” Y/N tilted her head. “Family money.”

“You could say that.”

“I knew it.”

“You knew what?”

“That you were rich.”

Yunho glanced down at himself. “Was it the jacket?” Her gaze moved shamelessly over him now, from the silver watch at his wrist to the tailored black shirt beneath his leather jacket. “It was everything.” She stared at him for another long moment before picking up a clean glass and polishing it with a towel. “You know what I think?”

“I suspect you’re going to tell me.”

“I think you’re either ridiculously wealthy…” She held up one finger. “…involved in organized crime…” A second finger joined the first. “…or you made your entire life up five minutes ago.” Yunho pretended to think about it. “Couldn’t I be all three?” Her hand stopped moving against the glass. Then she laughed, bright and unrestrained, and something unfamiliar tugged inside his chest. It wasn’t the pull of a contracted soul. It wasn’t infernal instinct or recognition of power. It was lighter. Almost pleasant. Yunho had spent centuries becoming very good at reading people. Their motives. Their fears. The hidden meanings behind carefully chosen words. Y/N didn’t seem to hide much at all. Her amusement reached her eyes. Her interest showed every time she leaned closer. Even her suspicion carried no real fear, only curiosity. “You’re strange,” she decided.

“I’ve been called worse.”

A customer several feet away raised an empty glass and Y/N held up one finger to acknowledge him. “I have to pretend to work again.” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling as she moved down the bar, and Yunho found his attention following her again. He watched her take three orders at once, correct Tiffany before she accidentally poured gin instead of vodka, and calmly cut off an already intoxicated man who protested that he was perfectly capable of handling another shot while visibly swaying on his stool. Y/N didn’t embarrass him. She simply set a glass of water in front of him, told him his future self would thank her, and moved on before he could argue. “You’re staring again.” Yunho looked toward Tiffany, who had appeared directly in front of him holding an empty cocktail shaker. “I’m observing.”

“That’s a creepy word for staring.”

“I’ve been told she’s evaluating everyone.”

Tiffany grinned. “She is.”

“Then I think it’s fair.”

“Oh, she’s definitely evaluating you.” Tiffany leaned one elbow onto the counter, lowering her voice. “So far, you’re doing surprisingly well.”

“Surprisingly?”

“You look like trouble.”

“I can’t do much about that.”

“That sounded incredibly arrogant.”

“It wasn’t intended to.”

“It definitely was.” She glanced toward Y/N, who was arguing playfully with a regular about whether pineapple belonged in whiskey, before turning back to Yunho. “She likes you.” Yunho’s gaze drifted toward Y/N again. “Does she?” Tiffany followed his stare and smiled knowingly. “Definitely.” Something in Yunho’s expression sharpened with interest. “How long have you known her?”

“Long enough to know she’s going to murder me if she realizes I’m talking about her.” Tiffany straightened just as Y/N turned around, immediately looking between them. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Tiffany answered far too quickly and Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You’re talking about me.”

“I was asking whether he wanted another drink.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Yunho lifted his nearly empty glass. “I could have another.” Tiffany pointed triumphantly toward him. “See?” Y/N looked unconvinced but reached for his glass anyway. “Another old fashioned?” Yunho watched her fingers curl around the heavy crystal. “Surprise me.” Her eyebrows rose. “That’s dangerous.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

“That’s what the last guy said.”

“The one whose face turned inside out?”

“The very same.”

“I trust you.”

The words slipped out easily. Too easily. And something changed in her expression, only for a moment, before she recovered with a small smile and lifted the glass from the counter. “Your funeral.” Yunho almost laughed at the irony. “I’ve survived worse.” Y/N studied him again as though she couldn’t decide whether every strange thing he said was a joke. “I’m beginning to believe that.” She turned toward the shelves and began selecting bottles without explaining what she was making. Bourbon first. Then something dark and herbal. A little orange bitters. She added smoke beneath an inverted glass, trapping it there until the crystal clouded before pouring the drink over a single cube of ice. When she finally lifted the glass, she placed a thin strip of charred orange peel across the rim again and slid it toward him. “Try that.” Yunho examined it. “Does it have a name?”

“Not yet.”

“That inspires confidence.”

“Drink it.”

He obeyed. Smoke reached him first, followed by bourbon, citrus, and a bitter sweetness that lingered against his tongue. Yunho took another sip before setting the glass down. “That’s good.” Y/N looked entirely too pleased with herself again. “I know.” He laughed. “You say that often.”

“Only when I’m right.”

“And how often is that?”

“Always.”

“Dangerous quality.”

“You seem to like dangerous things.”

Yunho’s eyes lifted slowly to hers. “I’m starting to.” The space between them seemed to shrink despite the width of the bar. Golden light swept across her face, catching the tiny flecks in her eyes while music vibrated through the counter beneath his forearm. Neither of them spoke for a second too long until Tiffany appeared beside Y/N, glanced between them, and slowly smiled. “I’m going to check the other end of the bar.” Y/N shook her head. “She has no shame.”

“I like her.” Yunho grinned and Y/N snorted. “Of course you do. She’s trying to get me into trouble.” Yunho leaned forward slightly. “Am I trouble?” She studied him with open consideration. “Definitely.”

“And yet you’re still standing here.”

“I’m working.”

“That’s the only reason?”

Her gaze dropped briefly toward his mouth before returning to his eyes. The movement was quick, but not quick enough. “Maybe I’m still evaluating you.”

“And how am I doing?”

Y/N reached across the bar and took his glass, lifting it to examine how much he’d already consumed. “You ordered the second drink.”

“You said I had to.”

“I didn’t think you’d listen.”

“I listen remarkably well when properly motivated.”

Her lips twitched. “I think I found your classification.” Yunho rested both forearms against the counter. “I’ve been waiting.”

“You’re not eighty.”

“Encouraging.”

“You’re definitely trying to seem sophisticated.”

He placed a hand against his chest as though wounded. “Cruel.”

“But…” She drew the word out, deliberately making him wait. “you do actually know what you’re drinking.”

“So?”

“So you’re the impossible third option.”

“And what exactly does that mean?”

Y/N leaned closer, close enough now that Yunho caught the faint scent of citrus and perfume beneath the stronger smells of alcohol and smoke. “It means I haven’t decided whether you’re interesting…” Her eyes dropped to his mouth again. “…or just very pretty.” Yunho’s smile came slowly. “Can’t I be both?”

“That remains to be seen.”

“I suppose I’ll need more time.”

“With the drink?”

“With the bartender.”

For a brief second neither of them spoke. The music surged around them, laughter rising from somewhere farther down the bar as another round of drinks disappeared into the crowd. Then Y/N smiled, almost to herself. “You know…” She rested both hands against the polished counter. “I don’t even know your name.” Yunho looked at her for a moment before answering. “Yunho.” She repeated it quietly, almost testing it. “Yunho.” He couldn’t explain why hearing his name in her voice sounded different than it had from anyone else’s in a very long time. “And yours?” he asked and a playful smile returned to her lips. “You’ve been staring at me for half the night and don’t know my name?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me.”

She pretended to think it over. “I might.”

“So generous.”

“My friends would disagree.” She offered him her hand across the bar. “Y/N.” He reached out without thinking, his larger hand closing gently around hers. It should have been an ordinary handshake. Instead… neither of them let go immediately. Her hand was warm from polishing glasses and handling cocktail shakers all evening. His was cool despite the heat of the crowded nightclub. “Well…” she said after a second that had stretched noticeably longer than a handshake should have. “It’s nice to officially meet you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

She slowly withdrew her hand, trying very hard to ignore the strange disappointment that came with it as another customer called her name from farther down the counter. “One sec!” she called before looking back at Yunho with an apologetic smile. “You’re popular.” He teases. “Occupational hazard.” He watched her disappear for another minute, effortlessly mixing two martinis while joking with a couple celebrating an anniversary before returning to him, wiping her hands on a clean bar towel. “Sorry.”

“You keep apologizing.”

“I keep leaving.”

“You also keep coming back.”

She smiled despite herself. “I guess I do.” Yunho glanced toward the large clock mounted above the liquor shelves. “So…” His eyes found hers again. “How much longer are you trapped behind this bar?” She followed his gaze to the clock. “About twenty minutes.”

“Only twenty?”

“If nobody decides tequila is a personality trait in the next nineteen.”

Yunho laughed. “I’ll hope for everyone’s sake they behave.” He leaned comfortably against the counter. “So what happens in twenty minutes?” Y/N bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling. “I clean up. I leave. I walk home.” Yunho tilted his head. “I was going to ask if you’d have a drink with me afterward.” Her eyebrows lifted, no longer able to fight the smile now. “You’re asking the bartender to have a drink?”

“I thought it seemed appropriate.”

“And if I said yes?”

“I’d consider myself fortunate.”

Y/N studied him for another moment. He wasn’t smirking. Wasn’t trying to impress her. He simply looked… hopeful. It was unexpectedly charming. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“No?”

“You’ve already had two drinks.”

“I assure you I’m perfectly capable of handling a third.”

“I believe you.”

“Then why not?”

She leaned forward across the bar until only the polished marble separated them.

“Because…” she said quietly, lowering her voice just enough that the conversation became theirs alone, “I don’t really drink after work.” She looked to his lips, to his hands, to his eye. “So… I suppose this is where we politely say goodbye.” She looked at him for a long second before shaking her head. “Or….. You can walk me home.” The words hung between them before Yunho grinned. “You’re inviting a man you’ve known for…” He glanced toward the clock. “What? Thirty minutes?” She shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve spent the last thirty minutes evaluating you.”

“And?”

“You haven’t asked for my number.”

“No.”

“You haven’t tried touching me.”

“No.”

“And…” Her smile became just a little softer. “You looked genuinely offended when I told you men ask bartenders to smile more.”

“I was.”

“I know.” She reached for another clean glass, polishing it almost absentmindedly. “So…” She looked back up at him. “Unless you’ve secretly been a serial killer this whole conversation…”

“I haven’t.”

“Good.” She smiled as once again another customer waved her down, and she reluctantly pushed herself away from the counter. “Twenty minutes,” she reminded him and Yunho watched her disappear back into the sea of waiting customers before lifting his glass once more. “Twenty minutes,” he echoed to himself. Strange. Four hundred years had passed in what often felt like the blink of an eye. Twenty minutes, however… suddenly felt impossibly long.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Y/N stood beside Yunho as the final attendant smoothed one last invisible wrinkle from the train of her gown before bowing deeply and quietly excusing herself. Yunho looked at her once more, his expression softening despite the growing noise beyond the doors. He’d eventually settled on the fifth jacket he’d tried, though settled hardly seemed like the right word. The tailored black suit fit him as though it had been made for him alone, every line sharp and deliberate. Deep wine colored embroidery traced the lapels and cuffs, matching the velvet of Y/N’s gown perfectly, while subtle silver thread caught the palace lights like scattered starlight. His wedding ring rested against the black fabric as naturally as though it had always belonged there. Y/N smiled. “You finally found one.”

“I did.”

“The fifth one.”

“The fourth.”

She laughed. “It was definitely the fifth.” He sighed dramatically. “I’ll never win this argument, will I?”

“No.”

“I suspected as much.” His gaze lingered on her for another moment before he quietly offered his arm. “My Princess.” Her smile softened. “My Prince.” She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm, her fingers resting lightly against the sleeve of his jacket. The movement felt strangely natural now. Over a week ago she couldn’t have imagined standing beside him like this. Now… she couldn’t quite imagine standing anywhere else. The massive gilded doors at the end of the corridor slowly began to open. Warm golden light spilled outward. Music flooded the hallway. Beyond the threshold stretched the grand banquet hall. It was unlike anything Y/N had ever seen. The ceiling disappeared into darkness hundreds of feet above, supported by towering black marble columns wrapped in flowering crimson vines that seemed to bloom despite never receiving sunlight. Thousands of floating chandeliers drifted lazily overhead, each one suspended by magic instead of chains, filling the room with warm light that danced across polished obsidian floors. Long banquet tables lined either side of an enormous central aisle, dressed in black linens embroidered with gold and crimson. Crystal goblets glittered beside silver place settings while servants moved gracefully between guests carrying trays of wine and delicate hors d’oeuvres. Nearly every noble house in Hell had already arrived.

Conversations filled the room. Elegant laughter. Political whispers. Calculated smiles. The moment the herald struck the floor with his ceremonial staff… silence swept through the hall like a wave. “Presenting…” His voice echoed effortlessly through the enormous chamber. “His Royal Highness… Crown Prince Yunho…” Every eye turned toward the entrance. “and Her Royal Highness…” The herald smiled ever so slightly. “Princess Y/N.” Yunho led her forward. Arm in arm. The orchestra resumed, softer now, becoming little more than elegant background music as hundreds of pairs of eyes followed them down the center aisle. Y/N kept her chin high. Exactly as Seonghwa had shown her. Exactly as Lucifer had encouraged. Even if her heart was beating hard enough she was fairly certain the entire room could hear it. Beside her, Yunho looked completely at ease. Years of royal ceremonies had made this second nature. Still… he was watching the room. Watching people. Measuring reactions. His gaze found Estrie almost immediately. She stood beside her father near the front of the hall, dressed in shimmering black silk that undoubtedly cost a fortune. She was breathtakingly beautiful. And openly furious. The polite smile she’d arranged for the evening faltered the instant Y/N entered. Her eyes traveled slowly over the velvet gown. The wedding ring. The circlet resting in Y/N’s hair. Then settled squarely on the hand looped comfortably through Yunho’s arm. The sneer that curled at the corner of her mouth lasted only a fraction of a second before court etiquette forced it away.

Too late. Yunho had already seen it. His expression didn’t change but his thumb merely brushed once against the back of Y/N’s hand where it rested on his arm. A silent reassurance. Then his attention shifted again. Scanning the room with practiced precision. Balthazar stood speaking with several nobles near one of the towering windows. Alone. Yunho’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. No Dante. He looked again. The ballroom wasn’t small enough to miss someone like him. Still…. nothing. Strange. After what had happened to the succubus, Yunho had expected Dante either to avoid the banquet entirely… or to arrive looking for an opportunity to provoke him. Instead… there was simply no sign of him. Lucifer, already seated upon the elevated royal dais at the far end of the hall, noticed the subtle movement of his son’s eyes. He knew exactly who Yunho was searching for. The King offered the slightest shake of his head and Yunho let the search go. For now. As they reached the foot of the dais, Lucifer descended the few black marble steps himself, something several nobles quietly noticed with surprise. “My son.” He clasped Yunho’s forearm briefly before turning toward Y/N. “My daughter.” The warmth in his voice was unmistakable. “You look magnificent.” Y/N smiled. “Thank you.” Lucifer offered her his arm instead. “If you’ll allow me the privilege…” Y/N looked toward Yunho and he smiled as she accepted his father’s arm, and together the King of Hell and his newly welcomed daughter turned toward the waiting aristocracy.

Lucifer moved effortlessly through the banquet hall with Y/N resting lightly on his arm, the conversations around them rising and falling as nobles stepped forward one by one to offer carefully rehearsed greetings. “Lady Seraphine of House Valen.” A graceful woman with silver horns inclined her head. “Your Highness. It is an honor.” Lucifer smiled pleasantly. “Lady Seraphine oversees nearly every vineyard in the southern territories. If you ever receive a bottle that claims to be the finest wine in Hell…” He glanced sideways toward Y/N. “it probably came from her.” Lady Seraphine laughed softly. “I appreciate the endorsement, Your Majesty.”

“You’ve earned it.”

Y/N returned the woman’s smile, exchanging a few polite words before Lucifer smoothly guided her onward. “Lord Cassiel. Lady Mirelle. House Ashbourne.” “Every introduction blurred gently into the next. Names. Faces. Titles. Some smiled with genuine warmth. Others smiled because etiquette demanded it. Y/N was beginning to understand what Lucifer had meant. Every conversation felt… measured. Every compliment seemed to carry another question beneath it. She smiled. Thanked them. Answered politely. All while becoming increasingly aware of just how many eyes never truly left her. Lucifer, meanwhile, never appeared hurried. He explained family histories. Pointed out alliances. Quietly identified which nobles genuinely mattered and which merely enjoyed pretending they did. “You don’t need to remember everyone tonight,” he murmured between introductions. “Most of them will introduce themselves another dozen times before the year is over.” Y/N smiled gratefully. “That’s reassuring.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

She laughed. “It wasn’t.” A hint of satisfaction touched Lucifer’s expression. Good. She was relaxing. Exactly what he wanted. As they approached another cluster of nobles, Y/N instinctively glanced across the ballroom looking for Yunho. She found him standing near one of the towering marble columns with his back partially turned toward her, a crystal glass resting loosely between long fingers as he spoke with another demon. The conversation looked… easy. Comfortable. Yunho laughed. A genuine laugh while the other man said something else, shaking his head with a crooked grin before lifting his own drink. Y/N smiled to herself but the…. the other man shifted just enough for her to see his face. And everything stopped. The warmth drained from her body so quickly it almost hurt. Her fingers tightened involuntarily around Lucifer’s arm. Her wedding ring dug painfully into her own hand….. Damon. Her ex boyfriend. But it was impossible. They were in hell. He looked exactly the same. Dark hair. That familiar smile. The same sharp jaw she’d once traced with trembling fingers after convincing herself he wasn’t really as cruel as he’d seemed earlier that night. The same eyes that always looked almost amused whenever she cried. Suddenly she wasn’t standing in the royal banquet hall anymore. She was back inside his apartment. Back listening to him calmly explain why every argument was somehow her fault. Back apologizing for things she hadn’t done. Back wondering why every version of herself seemed wrong unless it was the one Damon wanted.

The music around her became strangely muffled as her chest tightened. No… No, no, no… He wasn’t supposed to be here. He couldn’t be here. Her breathing shortened into shallow, uneven breaths. One. Then another. She couldn’t seem to draw in enough air as the enormous ballroom tilted ever so slightly. “Y/N?” Lucifer’s voice reached her from somewhere far away but she didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her eyes remained fixed across the room as Damon laughed. Completely unaware. Still talking to Yunho. Yunho…… her pulse lurched. He knows him. Why does he know him? Another breath refused to come properly. Her hands felt cold and clammy. Her vision narrowed around the edges. “Y/N.” Lucifer’s voice came again. Closer this time as his hand settled gently over hers where it gripped his arm but she barely felt it. “Princess.” Lucifer stopped walking altogether. The surrounding nobles politely continued their conversations, pretending not to notice as his eyes followed the direction of her stare. Across the ballroom. Past the musicians. Past the servants carrying silver trays. Until he found his son standing with Damon. Lucifer’s expression remained perfectly composed. Years of ruling Hell had long ago taught him never to betray surprise publicly. But something cold settled quietly behind his eyes as he looked back at Y/N. Her face had completely drained of color. Her breathing had become ragged. Fear. The kind that came from somewhere much older than tonight. His gaze drifted once more toward Damon. Then back to her. “Y/N.” This time his voice was quieter. “What is it?”

Y/N blinked. The sound of the orchestra slowly returned. So did the conversations. The clinking of crystal. She realized she was gripping Lucifer’s arm so tightly her fingertips had started to numb. No. Not here. Not now. She couldn’t do this here. Not in front of everyone. Especially not in front of Yunho. She forced herself to inhale. When she finally looked up at Lucifer, there was still fear lingering behind her eyes but she’d buried it beneath a practiced smile. “I’m fine,” she said quietly. The lie came easier than she wanted it to as she glanced briefly back toward Damon before forcing herself to look away. “Just a little overwhelmed.”

Lucifer held her gaze for a long moment. His expression never changed. Never once did he look back toward his son. Never once did he acknowledge the name already forming in his mind. Damon. No… He didn’t believe her. Not for a second. Because he had seen exactly where she’d been looking. He had seen the terror that crossed her face. And he had seen his son laughing with the very demon who had caused it. And now….. The King of Hell was suspicious as he gently resumed walking. Y/N matched his pace. One foot in front of the other. Smile. Nod. Breathe. Except breathing had suddenly become the hardest thing she’d ever done. Damon. A demon. The realization crashed over her with enough force to make her stomach twist. The whole time. The entire time they’d been together… he hadn’t been human. Every strange excuse. Every time he’d seemed to know things he shouldn’t. Every impossible coincidence. Every moment she’d dismissed because there simply had to be a rational explanation…… there hadn’t been one. Because there never was anything rational about him.

Her mind raced backward through years she’d spent trying to understand someone who had never been what she thought he was. Had every smile been another performance? Every apology another manipulation? Every promise another lie? The questions came faster than she could answer them. Her pulse hammered painfully in her ears. And then… another thought struck. One so much worse she nearly stumbled. Yunho. Her eyes drifted across the ballroom again before she could stop herself. He was still standing with Damon. Still talking. Still smiling. Still laughing. As though they were simply two old friends catching up over drinks. Because to Yunho… that’s exactly what they were. He had no idea. No idea that the demon standing across from him… was the man she’d spent a year trying to forget. The man who had convinced her she was impossible to love unless she became whoever he wanted her to be. The man whose voice still found its way into her nightmares. Her chest tightened again.

“Did he hurt you?”

“Do you want me to kill him?”

Her vision blurred for the briefest moment. God… He had been offering to kill Damon. Without either of them realizing it. The thought made her stomach churn. How many conversations had they shared? How many drinks? How many jokes? Had Damon talked about her? Had Yunho listened? Had they laughed together while she was somewhere on Earth convincing herself she was the problem? No… No, Yunho couldn’t have known. She knew that. She knew it with absolute certainty. If Yunho had known…. if he’d had even the smallest hint… he wouldn’t be standing there smiling. He would… her thoughts stopped. Because she already knew exactly what he would do. He would protect her. The way he always did. The way he had from the moment he’d stepped into that collapsing restaurant. The realization only made the ache in her chest worse as Yunho tipped his head back with another easy laugh at something Damon had said.

Y/N looked away before either of them could happen to glance in her direction. She wasn’t afraid of Yunho finding out. She was afraid of what would happen the moment he did.

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“My father.” Yunho’s warm voice cut gently through Y/N’s spiraling thoughts. He was walking toward them with the easy confidence that always seemed to surround him. And beside him… Damon. Every muscle in Y/N’s body locked. Her pulse exploded inside her chest. Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react. She felt Lucifer’s gaze flick toward her without moving his head. Watching and measuring as Yunho reached them, smiling as naturally as ever. “There you are,” he said, slipping comfortably beside Y/N. His hand found hers almost automatically, his thumb brushing lightly across her knuckles. “I’ve been looking for you.” She managed a smile. “So I’ve heard.” He chuckled. “I leave you alone with my father for ten minutes and suddenly you’ve met half the aristocracy.” Lucifer answered before she could. “Your wife has handled herself remarkably well.”

“I told you she would.” The pride in Yunho’s voice made something twist painfully inside her. Then… he turned slightly. “Oh. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Y/N felt her stomach drop as Yunho looked between them, completely oblivious. “Y/N…” He gestured toward Damon standing just behind his shoulder. “This is Damon.” Damon stepped forward with effortless composure. His dark suit was immaculate. His smile warm. Polite. Respectful. If someone had walked into the room at that exact moment, they would’ve assumed this was the first time he’d ever laid eyes on her as he bowed his head with practiced elegance. “Your Highness.” His voice was smooth. Measured. As though they were strangers. “It is an honor to finally meet the Princess of Hell.” Y/N stared at him. And for the smallest fraction of a second…. the ballroom disappeared. She remembered that voice murmuring apologies she’d wanted desperately to believe. That same voice calmly explaining why she’d misunderstood. How what happened was always her fault. She realized she’d stopped breathing. “Y/N?” Yunho’s voice was gentle. Brows furrowed in concern. She blinked, forcing herself back into the room. “Nice…” Her throat felt painfully tight. “to meet you.” The words tasted like ash as Damon smiled. “I’ve heard wonderful things.” It was a perfectly ordinary sentence. Only Y/N caught the almost imperceptible glint in his eyes. A flicker so brief she might’ve imagined it. But she hadn’t. She knew that look behind those green eyes. Damon was furious.

Lucifer knew something else. He watched his daughter. Not Damon. Y/N. She had withdrawn so subtly that almost no one would’ve noticed. Her shoulders had drawn inward by barely an inch. Her fingers had unconsciously tightened around Yunho’s hand. The brightness had vanished from her expression. She wasn’t merely uncomfortable. She was retreating. Piece by piece. As though some invisible wall were being rebuilt around her. Yunho noticed none of it yet, his attention remained comfortably on Damon. “Damon and I have known each other for years,” he explained with an easy grin. “We grew up together.” Damon gave an amused nod. “His Highness has always been generous enough to tolerate my company.” Yunho laughed. “Oh yeah, we have a lot in common. I’m not the only one who fell for a human.” He teased, smiling at Y/N so fucking oblivious. “Damon was completely obsessed this human girl.” Time seemed to stop and Y/N felt every drop of warmth leave her body as Lucifer’s amber eyes shifted, almost lazily, from his son… to Damon… and finally settled back on Y/N. He said nothing. Not a single word. But behind centuries of practiced composure… The King of Hell had just watched separate stories collide. Only one person in the conversation had no idea they were all the same story. Yunho.

“I’m serious,” Yunho said, glancing between Lucifer and Y/N with an amused grin. “I used to give him hell about it.” Damon chuckled, lifting his crystal glass in quiet surrender. “I made the mistake of mentioning her.” Yunho snorted. “The mistake? You practically wrote poetry every time we had drinks. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so hopelessly gone.” Damon offered an exaggerated sigh. “Must we do this in front of your wife and father?” Yunho’s grin only widened. “Oh, absolutely. You’ve earned it.” A few nearby nobles laughed politely, assuming they were witnessing nothing more than two lifelong friends teasing one another. Y/N stood perfectly still. She couldn’t even force herself to smile as Yunho nudged Damon’s shoulder lightly. “And then what…” He laughed again. “she dumped your ass a year ago.” Another ripple of laughter escaped him. “I’ve never seen anyone look so miserable.” Damon smiled. The same polished smile he’d worn since walking over. “What can I say?” he replied smoothly. “She made her decision.” There wasn’t the slightest hint of bitterness in his tone. No anger. No resentment. Only graceful acceptance. Anyone listening would’ve believed every word. But Y/N knew better. She had lived behind that smile. She knew exactly how dangerous it could be.

Damon slowly turned his gaze toward her. His expression never changed. Still charming. Still courteous. Still every inch the respectable noble. But his eyes… Those green eyes she’d spent trying not to fear… Burned. Not with sadness. Not with heartbreak. With possession. With fury carefully locked behind centuries of self control. It was the look of a man watching someone else hold something he believed still belonged to him. The look vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared as Damon returned his attention to Yunho as though nothing had happened. “I’m afraid she had better judgment than I did.”

“There it is.” Yunho laughed, pointing at him. “See? He can admit it now.”

“I’ve had a year to practice.”

“Apparently not enough.”

Lucifer’s gaze never left Damon. The demon’s words were flawless. His posture relaxed. His breathing steady. Everything about him projected calm. Everything… except his eyes. Lucifer had ruled Hell for longer than most civilizations had existed. He had learned long ago that a person’s eyes often betrayed what the rest of their body concealed. And for the briefest instant….. Damon had looked at Y/N as though Yunho’s hand resting over hers was an insult he intended never to forgive. Whatever history existed between those two… It was far darker than anyone in this room, including his own son, realized. Damon glanced toward the opposite side of the ballroom as another noble lifted a hand in greeting. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said smoothly, inclining his head first toward Lucifer before offering Yunho an easy smile. “Lord Cassiel has been trying to corner me all evening.” Yunho laughed. “My condolences.”

“I’ll survive.”

“Barely.”

Damon’s smile lingered as he bowed once more toward Y/N. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Princess.” She forced herself to return the gesture. “You as well.” The lie barely left her lips before Damon turned and disappeared effortlessly into the sea of black suits and glittering gowns, stopping only long enough to exchange pleasantries with another noble as though nothing unusual had happened. As though he hadn’t just looked into the eyes of the woman he’d once convinced herself she would never escape. Y/N didn’t realize she’d been staring after him until Yunho’s thumb brushed gently across the back of her hand. “Hey.” His voice was quieter now. Concern replacing the playful teasing from moments before. She looked up and he was studying her. Really studying her. The smile had faded from his face. “You okay?”

“What?”

“You’ve been…” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “…quiet.”

“I’m fine.” It came too quickly. Too automatically making Yunho’s brows knit together. “You sure?” She nodded. “Yeah.” Another lie. A better one this time. “I just…” She glanced around the impossibly enormous ballroom, allowing her eyes to drift across the hundreds of nobles surrounding them. “…I think all of this is finally catching up to me.” She gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh. “It’s a lot.” Yunho’s expression softened. “I should’ve checked on you sooner.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“No?”

She smiled, making herself look a little sheepish. “No.” Yunho relaxed slightly, convinced she’d simply reached her limit for the evening. Beside them… Lucifer remained silent. He hadn’t relaxed at all. In fact, his expression had only grown darker. His eyes lingered on Y/N for another long moment before shifting toward the far side of the ballroom, where Damon had seamlessly rejoined the crowd. Y/N’s smile had been convincing enough for Yunho but it hadn’t fooled Lucifer for a single second. His gaze returned to his son. Yunho was still rubbing absentminded circles over the back of Y/N’s hand, trying to comfort her without realizing he was comforting the wrong wound. Lucifer felt something cold settle in his chest. Whatever Damon had done… his son knew nothing about it. And if that ignorance continued much longer… It wasn’t Damon he feared. It was Yunho. Because Lucifer knew his son. He knew exactly how violently the Crown Prince loved. And if Yunho ever discovered that the smiling demon he’d called a friend had once been the source of that fear in Y/N’s eyes….. Hell itself might not be enough to contain what came next.

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An hour later, the orchestra had shifted into slower music while the banquet itself settled into the comfortable rhythm of old alliances and endless conversation. Y/N had quickly learned one thing about Hell’s aristocracy. They loved to talk. Especially about themselves. “…and of course,” the elderly demon beside her continued for what felt like the fifteenth minute, “when one has personally negotiated the Treaty of Ash Hollow, one develops an appreciation for proper diplomatic etiquette that the younger generations simply lack.” Y/N smiled politely. “That sounds… incredibly important.”

“It was.” He leaned in another inch. “I’ve often said Lucifer never properly thanked me.”

“I’m sure he…” Her eyes drifted over his shoulder. “did.” The older demon finally paused. “You seem distracted.”

“No,” she lied pleasantly. “I’m just getting another drink.” Before he could continue recounting whatever century old political dispute had apparently shaped his entire personality, Y/N slipped away with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. Excuse me.” She disappeared into the crowd before he could protest and the moment she rounded one of the towering marble columns, she let out a long breath. “Finally…”

“You escaped Lord Varris.”

Y/N turned. A woman stood a few feet away, a crystal glass balanced delicately between elegant fingers. She was beautiful. Almost unnaturally so. Long dark hair cascaded over one shoulder, and the black gown she wore glittered subtly beneath the floating chandeliers. There was something unmistakably regal about her. And something equally unmistakably cold. “I’ve watched him lecture people into surrender for centuries,” the woman continued. “Congratulations.” Y/N laughed despite herself. “I was starting to think I’d never get away.”

“No one ever does.” The woman’s eyes slowly traveled over Y/N. From the circlet resting in her hair… to the wedding ring on her finger… to the hand still absentmindedly smoothing invisible wrinkles from her velvet gown. “Interesting…” Y/N’s smile faded as the woman stepped closer. Until she began circling her with the leisurely confidence of someone inspecting an unfamiliar animal. “Interesting,” she repeated softly. “So…” She stopped directly in front of Y/N again. “This is what a thief looks like.” Y/N’s brows drew together. “Excuse me?” The woman’s lips curved into a beautiful smile that held absolutely no warmth. “I was supposed to marry him.” She tilted her head. “You know.” Her gaze flicked deliberately toward the opposite end of the ballroom where Yunho was deep in conversation with Lucifer and several noble houses. “Until you came along.”

For a second… Y/N simply stared. Then… she laughed. Right in the woman’s face. Not politely. Not nervously. A genuine laugh that made the woman’s smile faltered. “Really?” Y/N asked, amusement dancing across her features for the first time all evening as she realized this was Estrie. “Because from what I’ve heard…” She shrugged lightly. “he would’ve preferred Purgatory over marrying you.” Estrie’s eyes narrowed. “You little…” She took a sharp step forward. “Estrie.” The single word cut cleanly between them and both women turned. Damon approached with effortless calm, one hand tucked casually into the pocket of his tailored black suit. His expression remained pleasant. Almost bored. “Estrie,” he repeated. “Don’t you have someone else to go torment?” She scoffed. “Oh, don’t worry.” Her gaze lingered on Y/N another second. “I’m sure we’ll speak again.” She turned on her heel, the train of her gown sweeping dramatically across the polished floor as she disappeared back into the crowd and the silence she left behind felt infinitely heavier.

Y/N’s smile vanished. Her eyes instinctively searched the ballroom. Yunho. Still too far away to notice. When she looked back… Damon had stepped closer. Close enough that anyone watching would assume they were simply enjoying polite conversation. “Funny, isn’t it?” Y/N didn’t answer. “You tried so hard to run from me…” His voice remained perfectly conversational. Soft enough that no one else could hear. “yet here you are.” Her fingers curled tightly around the stem of her untouched wine glass. “I don’t know what game you’re playing,” she said quietly, “but stay away from me.” For the first time that night… Damon’s smile slipped and his eyes hardened. “You really think marrying the Crown Prince changes anything?” Y/N held his gaze. “It changes everything.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. Then, almost instantly, the charming smile returned. “So confident.” He leaned in only slightly, close enough that his next words never traveled beyond the space between them. “Tell me…” His voice was almost gentle. “how do you think Yunho would look at you… if he knew what we were?” Y/N felt her stomach knot as Damon watched every flicker of emotion across her face. Then he delivered the blow he’d clearly been saving. “if he knew I’d already ruined you…. completely.” His expression remained calm as he smiled again. “You’re still mine. Wife of the Prince or not.” The words hung between them like poison wrapped in silk.

Y/N didn’t correct him. She couldn’t. If she opened her mouth now, she wasn’t entirely convinced she’d be able to stop the tremor in her voice. So instead… she stepped around him. Their shoulders brushed as she passed. Damon didn’t try to stop her. Didn’t reach for her. Didn’t say another word. He simply turned his head slightly, watching her walk away through the crowd and smiled. The music continued behind her. Crystal glasses clinked. Laughter echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling. No one noticed the Princess of Hell leaving the banquet. Y/N kept walking. Don’t run. Don’t run. Don’t run. She forced herself to maintain a dignified pace until the enormous ballroom doors closed behind her and the instant they did…… she broke. Her steps quickened. The polished marble corridor stretched endlessly ahead as she hurried past towering windows overlooking Hell City. Palace guards bowed as she passed, servants flattening themselves respectfully against the walls. She barely saw any of them. Her breathing had become shallow again. Too fast. Her thoughts refused to slow. He was a demon. The realization slammed into her all over again. And she’d never had the slightest chance of understanding the game she was trapped inside.

Her stomach twisted violently and she stopped so abruptly one hand shot out to brace herself against one of the black marble columns lining the corridor. “No…” The nausea surged and she barely had time to turn away before she doubled over. The sound echoed through the otherwise silent hallway. Everything she’d forced down all evening came back up at once. When it was finally over, she stayed where she was, one hand gripping the cool marble, the other pressed tightly against her stomach. Her entire body trembled. “Princess?” The familiar voice was gentle. Y/N slowly lifted her head. Seonghwa stood several feet away, having clearly been making his way toward the banquet when he’d found her instead. His composed expression immediately shifted as he crossed the distance without hesitation, stopping close enough to help but not so close that she’d feel crowded. “Princess…” His eyes flicked briefly toward the floor before returning to her face. “are you alright?” Y/N looked at him and for a long moment… she couldn’t find any words. Then, quietly… almost pleadingly… “I need to get out of here.” Seonghwa didn’t ask why. Didn’t ask what had happened. Didn’t tell her to go back. He simply gave one small nod. “Of course.”

With practiced efficiency, he removed the tailored black jacket from his own shoulders and draped it gently around hers, shielding her from any curious eyes they might pass in the corridor. “This way.” His voice remained calm as he stepped beside her instead of ahead of her, matching her pace as they began walking deeper into the palace. Neither of them spoke as the banquet music faded farther and farther behind them until it disappeared entirely. Servants bowed as they passed. Guards opened doors without question. No one stopped the King’s right hand as he quietly escorted the Princess back through the royal wing. Only once they reached the familiar corridor leading to Yunho’s chambers did Seonghwa finally glance toward her. “You don’t have to tell me what happened tonight.” His voice was soft. “But if there’s anything you need…” He let the sentence trail away. Y/N swallowed hard. “Thank you.” It was barely above a whisper and Seonghwa inclined his head. “You’re safe here.” He opened the chamber doors for her warm light spilled into the hallway. The room was exactly as she’d left it only hours earlier. A world away from the ballroom. Seonghwa remained at the threshold. “I’ll make certain no one disturbs you.” Y/N nodded gratefully before stepping inside, the doors closing quietly behind her and her composure splintered. Her hands flew to the back of her neck, fumbling blindly for the fastenings Seonghwa’s attendants had so carefully hidden beneath her hair. Her fingers shook so badly she missed them twice before finally managing to pull them loose.

The heavy velvet gown loosened. She didn’t bother being careful. She practically tore herself out of it. The fabric pooled around her feet in a dark crimson circle, but she was already stumbling toward the bathroom before it had fully settled. “No…” The whisper cracked in her throat. “No…” The tears she’d held back all evening finally escaped. One. Then another. Within seconds they were falling so quickly she could hardly see as she reached the bathroom just as another sob caught painfully in her chest. Her reflection greeted her in the enormous mirror. Perfect makeup. Perfect hair. Circlet resting elegantly atop her head. With trembling hands she reached up, yanking the jeweled piece free with far more force than necessary. It caught briefly in her hair before coming loose completely and clattered loudly against the marble vanity. She didn’t care as another sob escaped her. Turning toward the shower, the abandoned gown wrapped unexpectedly around one ankle and she tumbled. Her shoulder struck the doorframe hard enough to sting and bruise. For one dizzy second she simply stood there, breathing raggedly before angrily kicking the velvet away from her feet. “I hate you…” She wasn’t even sure who she was talking to anymore. Damon or herself. She twisted the shower handle and scalding water poured from the rainfall fixture overhead, steam immediately beginning to fill the room.

Still crying, she stepped beneath it. The warmth soaked through her hair almost instantly, washing away carefully applied makeup in dark streams that disappeared toward the drain as she wrapped both arms around herself. Then she broke. Not graceful tears. Not quiet ones. The kind of sobbing that left her shoulders shaking. The kind she’d promised herself she’d never let Damon see again. The water hid the sound from anyone outside the room but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

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Yunho frowned as he finished speaking with another noble nearly ten minutes ago. He scanned the room, looking for Y/N. Ready to leave and hide with her in their chambers. “Looking for someone?” The familiar voice made him suppress a sigh. Estrie. She stood beside him holding a glass of wine, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “What do you want?”

“Ouch.” She smiled sweetly. “That’s hardly how one speaks to an old friend.”

“We’ve never been friends.”

She waved the correction away. “Semantics.” Yunho’s attention drifted back toward the ballroom. Still no sign of Y/N and Estrie noticed. “Looking for your wife?” His eyes returned to hers. “I met her.” Something in the way she said it made his stomach tighten and his expression hardened. “What did you do?” Estrie blinked, feigning innocence. “I beg your pardon?”

“What.” His voice dropped lower. “Did you do?” She scoffed. “Oh, please.” She rolled her magenta eyes. “I did nothing. Damon annoyingly interrupted us.” Yunho studied her face another second before turning away without another word. He knew Estrie. If she’d done something… she wouldn’t admit it. His gaze swept across the ballroom again until it landed on Damon speaking casually with another lord near one of the towering windows. “Damon.” The other demon looked over. “There you are.” Yunho approached quickly. “You seen Y/N?” Damon’s expression shifted into mild concern. “The Princess? I spoke with her briefly.” Yunho’s brows furrowed. “You did?” Damon nodded. “She seemed…” He paused as though choosing his words carefully. “a little unwell.” Yunho’s heartbeat quickened. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure.” Damon offered a small shrug. “She looked pale.” He glanced toward the ballroom entrance. “I assumed the evening had become overwhelming.” His tone remained perfectly calm. “She excused herself and left.” Without another word Yunho was already moving. He crossed the ballroom in long strides, barely acknowledging the nobles who attempted to stop him. The grand doors opened and the corridor beyond stood empty. “Y/N?” Only silence answered. He checked the adjoining gallery. The music room. One of the palace gardens overlooking Hell City. Nothing. Each passing minute tightened the knot in his chest. By the time he turned toward the royal wing, he wasn’t walking anymore. He was nearly running as he rounded the final corridor leading toward their chambers, he spotted a familiar figure standing quietly outside. “Seonghwa.” Seonghwa looked up immediately and relief briefly crossed his face. “Your Highness.” Yunho was already searching past him toward the chamber doors. “Where is she?” Seonghwa held his gaze. “She’s inside.” Yunho didn’t wait for anything else, his hand was already reaching for the door, it flew open so quickly it struck the wall with a dull thud. “Y/N?” For one terrifying moment, Yunho’s stomach dropped. Then he heard it. The soft click of the bathroom door opening. He turned as Y/N stepped out of the bedroom, wrapped in one of the enormous black towels. Damp hair clung to her shoulders, tiny droplets of water trailing down her arms.

Her makeup was gone. Her eyes… her eyes were swollen. Red and puffy. Like she’d been crying for far longer than she wanted anyone to know. Then his gaze dropped. A dark bruise had already begun blooming along the curve of her shoulder and Yunho froze. The worry vanished and something sharper replaced it. He crossed the room in seconds. “What happened?” His hands stopped just short of touching her, as though he couldn’t decide whether to pull her into him or inspect every inch of her for more injuries. “What happened?” he repeated, quieter this time. His eyes caught the bruise again. “Did you fall?” She didn’t answer. “Did someone touch you?” His jaw tightened. “Estrie.” The name left his mouth like a curse. “What did she do?” Y/N looked at him. Really looked at him. He wasn’t angry at her. He wasn’t judging her. He wasn’t disappointed. He was terrified. Terrified because she’d been hurting…. and he hadn’t been there. At the end of the day… this man was the Crown Prince of Hell. The son of the Devil himself. Her husband. She shouldn’t have to be afraid of anything anymore. Not here. Not with him. A shaky breath escaped her. “I…” Her voice broke. “I didn’t know he was a demon.”

Yunho blinked, furrowing his brows. “What? Who?” Y/N swallowed hard. “You remember…” She struggled to get the words out. “when I told you about my ex?” The room seemed to grow still as Yunho’s jaw slowly clenched and his voice became unnervingly calm. “Yes.” He remembered every word. “Do you want me to kill him?” It was the exact same question he’d asked on the beach in Greece. The exact same tone. As though the answer had always been hers to give. Y/N shook her head weakly. “No… I mean… I don’t know….” Her breathing hitched. “I…” She looked down at the floor. “I didn’t know…” Another tear slipped free as she repeated herself. “I didn’t know he was a demon.” Yunho stared at her. “Not until…” She forced herself to meet his eyes. “you introduced him to me.” Yunho didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His mind reached backward. Searching for an answer and when the realization hit him…. his heartbeat stopped. His eyes searched hers desperately. As though hoping she’d tell him he’d misunderstood. But she didn’t. She didn’t have to as understanding crashed into him all at once. Damon. Damon. Damon. The name echoed through his mind until everything else disappeared. The friend he’d grown up beside. The demon he’d shared drinks with. The man he’d laughed with…… A low, almost inaudible sound escaped Yunho’s throat. Not quite a growl. Not quite breathing. Something far older. Far more dangerous.

Y/N watched the realization settle across his face. Watched every ounce of warmth disappear as his pupils swallowed the familiar warm brown of his irises until his eyes became endless black and the glamour concealing his true nature shattered. His horns curled upward through his silver hair. Sharp black claws slid from the tips of his fingers with a metallic scrape. The air in the room became heavy as power rolled off him in suffocating waves. Yunho wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was looking through her. Already seeing Damon. Already replaying every conversation they’d ever had. And realizing that while he’d called Damon a friend… Damon had hurt his wife. A single tear slid silently down Yunho’s cheek and disappeared almost as quickly as it fell. His voice, when it finally came, was barely more than a whisper. “He knew. He stood there…”

Y/N took a step toward him. “Yunho…”

Black smoke exploded through the room as she reached for him. But it was too late. The space where he’d been standing was suddenly empty. Only wisps of shadow remained, curling through the light before fading into nothing.

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The banquet had begun to settle into its comfortable rhythm. Music drifted through the grand hall. Crystal glasses clinked beneath floating chandeliers. Nobles resumed conversations that had been interrupted only moments earlier, blissfully unaware that the Crown Prince and his wife had quietly vanished from opposite ends of the palace. But Lucifer noticed. His eyes swept the ballroom once. No Yunho. No Y/N. His fingers tapped once against the stem of his wine glass. Across the room, Estrie had already found another circle of nobles to entertain. Damon stood near one of the towering windows overlooking Hell City, speaking with two lords as though nothing at all had happened. Lucifer watched him for a long moment. Then… the room exploded. A deafening crack split through the ballroom like thunder. Black smoke erupted from thin air and before a single one could even react, a hand shot out of the shadows seizing Damon by the throat. The force behind it was monstrous.

Damon’s eyes widened as he was ripped completely off his feet and the ballroom vanished into a blur. Marble rushed toward him. The impact shook the entire palace. The polished obsidian floor shattered beneath his back, fractures racing outward in every direction like spiderwebs across glass. Nearby tables overturned. Wine goblets crashed to the ground, exploding into glittering fragments as nobles stumbled backward in alarm. Music stopped. Every conversation died instantly. Silence swallowed the room. And at the center of the destruction… Yunho knelt over Damon. One clawed hand remained locked around the other demon’s throat, pinning him deep into the crater he’d just created. Power rolled off him in violent waves, making chandeliers tremble overhead as flames inside the palace braziers bent toward him. No one in the room had ever seen the Crown Prince like this. Not even Lucifer.

Damon stared up at him. His breathing was ragged from the impact. A thin line of blood traced the corner of his mouth. Then the corners of his lips curled upward. “Let me guess.” His voice was rough, but unmistakably amused. “She told you.” Yunho didn’t answer, he just tightened his grip and the marble beneath Damon’s shoulders groaned under the pressure. Lucifer’s expression darkened as gaze moved from his son to Damon whose smile never faltered. “So…” he rasped, meeting Yunho’s black eyes without looking away. “You finally know.” The words had barely left his mouth when the air around the crater grew impossibly heavy and every demon in the ballroom could feel it. The Crown Prince wasn’t merely angry. He was barely holding himself back from tearing Damon apart where he lay and sending him to an eternity in Purgatory.

Yunho stared at Damon. There wasn’t a trace of the man who had entered the ballroom laughing with an old friend. There wasn’t even a trace of the husband who’d spent the last almost two weeks falling in love with Y/N. There was only the Crown Prince of Hell. Only the son of Lucifer. The infernal power pouring from him swelled again, washing through the ballroom in a wave so heavy several younger demons instinctively stepped backward. “I should make certain you never have another chance to hurt her. Rip you apart and send you to purgatory limb by limb.” Lucifer’s voice cut cleanly through the room. It wasn’t raised. It didn’t need to be. “Yunho.” But Yunho never looked away from Damon. “I’m handling this.” For several long seconds, Lucifer simply watched his son. He saw the betrayal. The heartbreak. The fury. Then, slowly, he inclined his head. “I know you are.” His tone remained calm, steady enough to anchor the room itself. “But not here.” Yunho didn’t answer as his father’s eyes lifted beyond the shattered marble and his gaze settled on the entrance to the ballroom. “Look.” The single word hung in the air and Yunho’s jaw remained clenched for another moment before his eyes finally followed his father’s….. Y/N stood in the open doorway. She’d changed into nothing more than an oversized shirt and a pair of soft black pants she’d clearly thrown on in haste, hair damp. The redness around her eyes hadn’t faded, and despite the distance between them, Yunho could still make out the dark bruise beginning to bloom against her shoulder.

Seonghwa stood quietly beside her. Simply close enough that, if she needed to leave, she wouldn’t have to do it alone. Y/N couldn’t look away. She’d never seen Yunho like this. His silver hair framed the obsidian horns curling skyward. His black eyes held no warmth. The air around him rippled beneath the weight of power he’d stopped trying to hide. And suddenly… she was back in Greece. Walking out of the bathroom to find Yunho standing there….. telling her he didn’t want him to see him like that. The way he had been when he stabbed Darrius. Yunho’s gaze finally met hers. The fury was still there. The betrayal hadn’t lessened. But the instant he saw her….. Something inside him hesitated. The entire ballroom seemed to hold its breath as Yunho never took his eyes off Y/N. The blackness consuming his eyes remained. Power continued to ripple through the hall in suffocating waves, making candles flicker and crystal tremble, yet somehow… when he looked at her, the fury no longer felt directionless. It had a purpose. His voice came quietly. “Do you want me to kill him?” No one moved. No one dared interrupt. Even Lucifer remained silent as Seonghwa kept his gaze lowered. It wasn’t their question to answer.

Y/N stared at him and for a moment, all she saw was the man standing in their chambers only minutes ago, asking the exact same thing with the exact same certainty. As though he truly would place the decision in her hands. As though, despite everything raging inside him….. he trusted her answer more than his own anger. Slowly… she looked away from Yunho and her eyes found Damon. The smile he’d worn since Yunho had thrown him to the floor was gone now. And for the first time since she’d met him… he looked afraid. He’d always been the one with the control. The one making her question herself. The one who smiled while she unraveled. Now… the balance had shifted. Because for the first time, Damon understood exactly what stood between him and the Crown Prince of Hell. Y/N drew a slow, shaky breath before she looked back at her husband. “Not right now.” The words were barely above a whisper but in the silence of the ballroom they carried loudly.

Yunho held her gaze for another long moment. His chest rising with one measured breath. Then another as the claws around Damon’s jacket and throat slowly loosened. Not because his anger had faded. Not because Damon deserved mercy. Only because she had asked him not to. And there wasn’t a force in Hell more capable of staying the Crown Prince’s hand than the woman he loved. He stood slowly. The movement was almost unnervingly calm. The black smoke curling around his boots slowly dissipated across the fractured marble. The infernal pressure crushing the ballroom eased only slightly, but it was enough for several to finally draw breath again. Damon remained where he’d fallen, simply watching the Crown Prince carefully but Yunho never looked at him again. His black eyes shifted instead to Seonghwa. “Get him out of here.” Seonghwa straightened as Yunho’s voice remained low and controlled. “Before my wife changes her mind.”

Damon’s composure faltered again. It wasn’t Yunho’s threat that unsettled him. It was the realization that the decision had never been Yunho’s to make. Seonghwa inclined his head once. “Of course, Your Highness.” Without another word, he stepped toward Damon as Yunho turned to Y/N. No one else existed anymore. Only her. He crossed the remaining distance between them. When he stopped in front of her, he didn’t speak at first. His gaze lingered on the bruise darkening her shoulder, and something painful flickered across his face before he quietly reached out. Not to pull her into him. Not to hold her. But to simply offer her his hand. Y/N looked down at it. The same hand that, only moments ago, had nearly brought an entire ballroom to its knees. The same hand that had reached for hers countless times over the last two weeks with nothing but gentleness. Without hesitation, she slipped her fingers into his and the moment their hands met, his thumb brushed softly across the back of hers. It was such a small gesture. So impossibly tender. As though he needed to reassure himself she was really there. “Come on,” he said quietly and Y/N nodded. Together, they turned toward the ballroom doors and no one dared stop them.

The crowd parted in complete silence as the Prince and Princess of Hell walked through the center of the room, their joined hands speaking louder than anything either of them could have said. Lucifer watched them leave without a word and Seonghwa waited until the doors closed behind them before his attention returned to Damon. The warmth that had always colored his expression was gone. “Lord Damon,” he said evenly, extending a hand to help him up. “Shall we?” Damon looked toward the doors through which Yunho and Y/N had disappeared. Then, with a humorless smile, he accepted Seonghwa’s hand.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The chambers had been silent for so long that Y/N had started measuring time by the fire. She sat near the edge of the bed with one leg folded beneath her, Yunho’s oversized shirt hanging loose over the soft black pants she’d thrown on before returning to the ballroom. Her hair was still faintly damp against the back of her neck. Her wedding ring caught the firelight every time she moved her hand, turquoise deepening into sapphire beneath the glow, but she hadn’t looked at it once since they’d returned. Her attention remained fixed on Yunho as he stood before the towering windows with his back to her, one hand resting against the dark stone frame as he stared out over Hell. His horns stayed but his claws had receded. His eyes were warm brown again, though Y/N had only caught a glimpse of them when he’d quietly closed the chamber doors behind them. Since then, he hadn’t turned around. He hadn’t said a word. And neither had she. There was something frightening about the stillness of him. Not the same violence that had torn through the ballroom when he’d thrown Damon into the floor. This was quieter. Colder. The kind of silence that came after something had already broken. Y/N watched his fingers tighten against the stone. “Yunho…” His shoulders barely moved. “I had Dante’s lover killed.” The confession fell into the room without warning. Y/N went still as she wondered whether she’d heard him correctly, but Yunho didn’t repeat himself. He remained facing the window, gaze fixed somewhere beyond the city as though looking at her would make the words more difficult to say. “When?” she asked quietly. “Last night.” His voice was calm, but it wasn’t empty. There was too much buried beneath it. Y/N stared at his back, the memory from the market rising with immediate, sickening clarity. Dante’s smile disappearing. His voice turning gentle as he promised to peel her flesh from her body while Yunho watched. Hongjoong stepping between them. The marketplace falling silent. “You ordered?”

“I’d already given someone instructions to watch her before we left for Greece.” Yunho’s jaw tightened. “After Dante threatened you again, I told him to finish it.” The fire cracked behind her as Y/N slowly lowered her feet to the floor but didn’t stand. “Did they suffer?” That made him close his eyes. “No.” His answer came immediately. “I told them to make it quick. No message. No spectacle.” His hand fell away from the window frame. “She didn’t threaten you. She wasn’t responsible for what Dante did.” Y/N’s brows drew together. “Then why kill her?” Yunho finally turned. His expression was controlled, but his eyes betrayed him. They were exhausted. Red around the edges. Filled with an anger that no longer had anywhere to go. “Because I wanted him to lose something again. To warn him what I can do if he touched you.” The honesty of it made her chest tighten as Yunho looked down briefly, staring at the ring wrapped around his finger. Horns and feathers circling one another endlessly. “Dante threatened to wait until I loved you before he hurt you.” His thumb dragged slowly over the band. “Then he found you in the market and told you exactly what he planned to do.” His gaze returned to hers. “I needed him to understand that threatening you would cost him something.” Y/N swallowed. “Did it?”

“I don’t know.” The answer seemed to disturb him more than anything else. “He hasn’t come for me yet.” Yunho’s mouth twisted bitterly. “Maybe he’s grieving. Maybe he’s planning. Maybe she meant nothing to him.” His eyes drifted back toward the city. “I don’t know.” Y/N studied him for several seconds. “Why are you telling me now?” Yunho turned fully away from the window, though he made no move toward her. “Because Damon stood in front of me tonight and lied.” His voice roughened around the name. “He knew who you were. He knew what he’d done to you. And he smiled at me while I introduced him to my wife.” His jaw clenched hard enough for the muscle to jump. “I keep thinking about every conversation I’ve had with him. Every time he spoke about the human woman who left him. Every time I listened while he painted himself as the one who’d been wronged.” His eyes turned black again. “And all that time, he was talking about you.” Y/N’s fingers curled against the bedspread. “I don’t want to become another man who decides what you deserve to know.” The words struck deeper than she expected. “I don’t want secrets between us because I’ve decided the truth would be easier for you not to carry.” His voice dropped. “Damon did that. He built an entire life around you without ever letting you know what he was.” Y/N’s throat tightened. “So I’m telling you.” Yunho’s gaze held hers, unwavering despite the shame beginning to creep through his expression. “I ordered a succubus’ death because the man who cares for her threatened you.”

Silence pressed in around them once more. He didn’t try to justify it. He didn’t remind her Dante was dangerous. Didn’t tell her it had been necessary. Didn’t hide behind his title or the laws of Hell. He simply stood there and allowed her to see him. Y/N slowly rose from the bed and Yunho watched her approach, but there was something guarded in the way he held himself now, as though preparing for her to stop several feet away. But she didn’t. She crossed the entire room until only a breath remained between them. “Did you want her to suffer?” she asked.

“No.”

“Did you enjoy knowing she was dead?”

His expression tightened. “No.”

“Would you make the same choice again?” That was the question that finally made him look away. “If I believed it would keep you alive…” His eyes returned to hers back once again his warm brown. “Yes.” The truth remained between them, sharp and unpolished as Y/N stared at him, heart aching because she believed him. Because she knew he would burn the world for her and then lose sleep over the ashes. Because the same man who had nearly murdered Damon before an entire ballroom had ordered someone else to show mercy to a woman he’d condemned. She reached for his hand and Yunho looked down as her fingers slipped between his. “I don’t know how I feel about it,” she admitted and he nodded. “You don’t have to.”

“I might be angry.”

“You’re allowed.”

“I might think it was wrong.”

“You’re allowed that too.”

Her thumb brushed across the black ring on his finger. “But I’m glad you told me.” Something in his face fractured. Not dramatically. Yunho didn’t collapse or pull her into him. His shoulders simply lowered, as though he’d been holding them rigid since the moment they entered the room. “I should’ve told you before.”

“Probably.”

A faint, broken laugh escaped him before disappearing almost immediately and Y/N squeezed his hand. “No more deciding what I can handle.” His gaze lifted to hers. “No more secrets.” Yunho nodded slowly. “No more secrets.” She stood there with him before the windows, their joined hands suspended between them, Hell glowing endlessly beyond the glass. Then Y/N stepped closer and rested her forehead against his chest. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then his arms came around her carefully. Simply holding her as though he understood that forgiveness had not been given, judgment had not been passed, and neither was required tonight as Y/N listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear while his chin settled lightly against the top of her head. After a long silence, Yunho’s voice rumbled quietly through his chest. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” Y/N closed her eyes and her arms tightened around his waist. “I think,” she whispered, “I was always going to eventually.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

New York glittered beneath a blanket of rain as Yellow taxis carved rivers of light through soaked streets while neon signs reflected across puddles in fractured colors. Far below, people hurried beneath umbrellas, oblivious to the ancient war quietly unfolding above their heads. High atop an abandoned cathedral overlooking Manhattan, a lone figure stood at the edge of the bell tower. Dante. The wind tugged at his black coat, carrying the scent of rain and cigarette smoke through the open arches. He hadn’t moved in nearly an hour. His eyes remained fixed on the skyline. Not seeing it. “I heard,” a familiar voice drawled, “that a certain prince killed another one of your lovers.” Dante’s expression didn’t change. He already knew who it was. Damon stepped from the shadows, dressed impeccably as always in a charcoal overcoat, dark gloves, and a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

Dante slowly turned, his gaze landing on Damon with open contempt. “I don’t trust you.”

“I know.”

“You shouldn’t even know where to find me.”

“I know that too.”

For several quiet seconds neither of them spoke. Then Damon smiled. “Relax.” Dante’s jaw clenched. “I think we can help each other.” A humorless laugh escaped Dante. “You think we’re allies?”

“No.” Damon folded his hands behind his back, strolling toward one of the broken arches as casually as though they were discussing the weather. “I think we have remarkably similar goals.” Dante scoffed as Damon looked out across Manhattan. “You want Prince Yunho to suffer. You want him to spend every waking second wondering when you’re going to take the one thing he loves.” Dante’s voice remained flat. “Go on.” Damon turned back toward him. “I want exactly the same thing.” Dante studied him. “And why would that be?” A flicker crossed Damon’s face. Not grief. But possession. “Because she was mine first.” The words hung in the damp air as Dante watched him carefully. “You still think she belongs to you?”

“I know she does.”

“No.” Dante shook his head. “You believe she does.” Damon smiled again. “It doesn’t matter what she believes.” His voice became quieter. “It only matters what she remembers.” Dante’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you proposing?” Damon stepped closer. “We force Yunho’s hand. We make him do the one thing he needs to do. We make him kill her.” The rain seemed louder for a moment. “The Binding.” Dante nodded. “She’ll come back immortal.” Damon nodded. “The law.” “If a demon preserves what Fate has harvested…” Dante finished the sentence for him. “…they carry the burden forever.” His brow furrowed. “But why would I do that? I want her dead. I want him to live without her. I fail to see how giving Yunho eternity with his wife hurts him.” Damon actually laughed. It was quiet. Almost pitying. “You’ve forgotten something.” Dante remained silent as Damon’s smile slowly widened. “When a human dies…. and wakes again as one of us…” His voice became almost gentle. “their emotions shut off.” The words settled over the cathedral like fresh snowfall and Dante’s eyes widened ever so slightly as Damon watched the realization spread. “When she opens her eyes… she won’t love him.” His smile became colder. “She won’t hate him either. She won’t grieve. She won’t miss him.” He almost whispered the last part. “She simply….. won’t care.” Dante stared at him as Damon turned back toward the rain soaked skyline.

“The Prince of Hell spent four hundred years believing he’d never find someone to love.” Damon’s lip curled. “Then he found her.” His voice hardened. “So let’s give him exactly what he wants.” Dante watched him carefully. “An eternity together.” Damon’s smile was razor thin. “An eternity beside a wife who looks at him… like he’s a stranger.” The silence that followed felt almost alive as Dante spoke. “And what do you get out of this?” Damon’s eyes drifted toward the storm clouds gathering over Manhattan and slowly, maddeningly, he smiled. “I’m going to take her from him.” The possessiveness in his voice was unmistakable. “She’s mine.” The word dripped with disdain. “And she married the wrong demon.” Dante studied him for a long moment before a slow, dangerous smile crept across his own face. “You’re fucking insane.” Damon didn’t deny it. Instead, he looked out over the city lights and spoke with quiet certainty. “No. I simply want what’s mine back.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Morning came quietly. There was no sunrise in Hell. No pale gold spilling through curtains or birds greeting the dawn. Instead, crimson light filtered softly through the towering windows, casting the room in warm shades of burgundy and amber as the fire in the hearth burned lower than it had the night before. Y/N woke slowly and for a few moments, she couldn’t remember why her chest felt so heavy. Then the banquet returned all at once and she let out the quietest breath before turning her head. Yunho was still asleep. That alone almost made her smile. She’d never actually watched him sleep before. Not like this. He hadn’t stirred. His silver hair had fallen across his forehead in complete disarray, several strands brushing against one closed eye. One arm rested beneath the pillow while the other remained draped securely around her waist even in sleep, as though sometime during the night he’d reached for her without ever waking. His breathing was slow. Even and peaceful. It was strange. The Prince of Hell looked… younger like this. The lines of responsibility she had grown used to seeing around his eyes had disappeared completely. His expression had softened into something almost boyish, the centuries he carried every day hidden away beneath sleep.

She couldn’t help wondering how often that happened. How often four hundred years simply… vanished as her gaze drifted lower. The scratches she’d left across his shoulders and chest had already begun fading, the marks now little more than faint pink lines against his skin. Demon healing. She remembered him laughing quietly when she’d noticed them disappearing yesterday. Benefits of being immortal. She’d rolled her eyes and accused him of cheating. A tiny smile tugged at her lips as her attention settled on his hand resting against her waist. The black ring gleamed softly in the crimson light. Horns. Feathers. Endlessly chasing one another around the band. Her own ring caught the light as she slowly lifted her hand beside his. He’d told her one of the ugliest truths he’d ever carried because he refused to become another Damon. She wasn’t sure everyone would’ve done that. Most people would’ve buried it. Protected themselves. Protected the relationship. Yunho had handed her the truth anyway and accepted that she might hate him afterward. Her fingers moved almost unconsciously, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his forehead. He didn’t wake. He merely sighed softly in his sleep and without opening his eyes, pulled her an inch closer against his chest.

Y/N laughed under her breath. “You are clingy,” she whispered and the corners of his mouth barely twitched. “Are you awake?” No answer, just the steady rhythm of his breathing. Y/N narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Yunho.” His face remained perfectly relaxed. Too perfectly. Y/N reached up and gently pinched his side and nose wrinkled. “There you are,” she murmured triumphantly. Finally, one eye cracked open just enough to look at her. “I was trying,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep, “very hard… to convince you I wasn’t awake.” Y/N let out a soft laugh. “I noticed.” His other eye slowly opened as he looked at her for a long moment, still not moving. “How long have you been staring at me?” Y/N feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hm.”

“You just happen to be very… stareable.”

A sleepy chuckle escaped him. “I don’t think that’s a word.”

“It is now.”

His smile lingered for another second before he reached up, his fingertips gently tracing the curve of her cheek and the humor softened. “You okay?” She knew what he was really asking. Not whether she’d slept but if she was still thinking about everything that had happened. Y/N looked into his eyes before giving a small nod. “I’m getting there.” Yunho searched her face for another moment, then leaned forward and pressed a slow kiss to her forehead. “We’ll get there together.” The words weren’t grand. They weren’t a vow made before kings or written into ancient law. They were quieter than that and meant just as much. His arm tightened around her waist, effortlessly pulling her flush against him until she let out a surprised laugh. “There.”

“There?”

“Much better.”

Y/N smiled, studying his face for another moment before leaning in and kissing him. It wasn’t playful. It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t edging into anything more. It was simply soft and slow. The kind of kiss that belonged to quiet mornings when neither of them had anywhere they wanted to be except exactly where they were. Yunho answered with a hand settling against the small of her back while the other found her jaw, his thumb brushing gently as he kissed her with the same unhurried tenderness, tongues softly moving in sync. When they finally pulled apart, only an inch separated them. “I’ve decided something,” Y/N murmured.

“And what’s that?”

“I like waking up next to you.”

His smile softened. “Good. Because you’re kind of stuck with me for eternity.” She laughed and kissed him again, a little longer this time. Yunho smiled into it, his forehead resting briefly against hers before his lips found hers once more. His fingers disappeared into her hair, gently cradling the back of her head as she instinctively leaned further into him. This time neither of them seemed interested in ending it. Y/N’s hand settled against the side of his neck and the room seemed to disappear around them until there was only the warmth of the fire, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her other hand, and the familiar comfort of being wrapped in his arms. Then she shifted onto his lap, her fingers combing through his hair as his hands settled comfortably around her waist.

“My Princess?” Seonghwa’s voice came through the doors and Yunho sighed. “If we pretend we didn’t hear him?”

“He’ll come in anyway.”

“I know.”

Without waiting for an answer, the doors opened and Seonghwa stepped inside carrying a small black apothecary case trimmed with polished silver. He paused just inside the doorway, taking in the sight before him. Y/N sitting comfortably in Yunho’s lap while Yunho’s arms were around her waist. Neither of them looked particularly apologetic. “Am I interrupting again?”

“A little,” Y/N admitted with an embarrassed smile. “Considerably,” Yunho corrected.

“I suspected as much.” Seonghwa’s expression remained perfectly composed as he crossed the room. “I won’t keep you long.” He set the case carefully on the nearby table before looking toward Y/N. “I promised you I would have this delivered.” Y/N immediately realized what he was referring. “You remembered.”

“I said I would.”

Yunho looked between them. “Remembered what?” Seonghwa unlatched the silver clasps and lifted the lid. Inside were several neatly wrapped bundles of dried emerald colored leaves alongside a small parchment containing brewing instructions. “The Widow’s Fern.”

Y/N smiled. “Thank you.”

Yunho frowned. “The Widow’s Fern?”

Seonghwa glanced at him. “The herb Princess Y/N asked me about before the welcoming banquet.”

“My wife asked you about herbs?”

“Contraception,” Seonghwa corrected with effortless calm. “While you were showering.” Y/N looked back at Yunho, trying very hard not to smile. “You said you didn’t know if birth control worked with demons.” Recognition slowly spread across his face. “Oh….” He narrowed his eyes at her playfully. “My demon semon.” Seonghwa snorted and caught himself quickly and cleared his throat. “The instructions are beneath the lid. One cup of tea each week.” He looked toward Y/N. “If you need more, simply let me know.”

“I will. Thank you, Seonghwa.”

He inclined his head politely.

“My pleasure, Princess.” With that, he turned and walked toward the door. Just before stepping into the corridor, he paused. Without looking back, he said evenly, “My Prince, His Majesty insisted in allowing you both a few more days. Unfortunately, the coven in New Orleans has become… more urgent. He’s asked that you deal with it immediately.” The doors closed with a quiet click behind him and Yunho groaned as Y/N looked at him. “Coven? Witches?” Yunho nodded. “Yeah.” He shifted slightly on the bed, one arm still comfortably around her waist as she remained settled on his lap as he leaned back against the headboard, absentmindedly tracing circles against her side with his thumb. “They’re one of the oldest supernatural bloodlines. Older than most demon houses. Most answer to their own High Priestess or council long before they’d ever answer to Hell.”

“So why are you the one dealing with them?”

A quiet chuckle escaped him. “My father always sends me.”

“Why?”

For just a second, his expression softened into something almost nostalgic. “My mother. Technically…” A faint smile crossed his face. “I have a little coven blood. My mom…. because she was a witch and because she came from a powerful coven in Korea. She didn’t like it though. Most covens are… political.” He smiled faintly. “And my mother wasn’t particularly fond of being told what to do. So she worked alone.”

Y/N laughed. “I can see why her and your father got along.” That earned a genuine laugh from Yunho. “They absolutely did not.”

“No?”

“They argued constantly when I was growing up. But…. they would always make right back up afterwards. My mother had my father wrapped around her finger so tightly…..” Yunho looked at Y/N. “he makes me around you look sane.” Y/N laughed. “Are you saying you’re whipped?” He kissed her, smiling against her lips, not denying it. “A little.” The warmth in his voice lingered for only a moment before he continued. “Even though she left… blood still matters to witches. They know who my mother was.”

“And because of that…”

“They don’t hate me quite as much as they hate other demons.”

“That’s… comforting?”

“It helps.” He shrugged lightly. “When negotiations fail, I’m usually the one sent first.”

“And if negotiations don’t work?”

Yunho’s expression became just a little more serious. “Then my father sends an army.” Y/N studied him for a moment. “So this coven in New Orleans…..” Yunho answered her before she could finish. “They’re a very old and powerful one.” Y/N but her bottom lip, not wanting him to leave. Not right now. Not after last night. Even if Hongjoong was ordered to watch over her whenever Yunho was away… she didn’t want to be without him right now. “So…” She gently squeezed his hand. “When do we leave for New Orleans?” Yunho looked down at their joined fingers before meeting her eyes again. “We?” And Y/N hesitated before just telling him. “I…. I don’t want to be away from you right now.” Yunho’s hold on here tightened. He knew what she was saying. She didn’t want him away while Damon was around. “Well… if you’re coming with me…” A grin spread across his face…..

“I’d say we should start packing.”

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Choi Jongho had always been a reliable younger friend to him, but he had made the mistake at the time to think he wasn’t a threat to him. Then, he had shown up one day with a hand placed on your lower back during mass, before taking you away to Seoul for good before Yunho had time to think of a proper reason as to why he should care.

It's not like he could have confessed his feelings to you. He hadn’t entirely been sure as to what they had been at the time. Truth was, you had made him sick. Every time your eyes would set on him, a small whisper of your voice would reach him, he’d be overcome with an intense, suffocating feeling of wrong. It was always followed by shame, jaded breath reciting Hail Marys while his body recovered, pants still lazily pulled back up around his waist.

He had believed you had made him sick like that, the memory of your beaming smile always accompanied by the memory of a heat that felt sticky, humid and tainted. He had thought he would have felt relieved once you had been gone, and in a way he had been. The prying thoughts had gone away, but he had found he couldn’t shake the need to see you come through the doors of his father’s church just one more time. The same church that now belonged to him, and through whose doors you had walked through a few days ago, this time an engagement ring on your finger. You were to get married in your hometown, that’s how Jongho had wanted it. He had locked eyes with you, and the feeling that had left him at rest for years was suddenly pulling him back, the familiar, disgusting flutter in his stomach dipping down until--

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned” Yunho had felt his heart stop and his blood run cold when he recognized your voice through the screen “It has been...” the sound of your sigh made him tremble as if it had been ice cold “I can’t even remember when my last confession was” Yunho stood still, hands stuck on top of his knees as if frozen “Father?”

Yunho cleared his voice and straightened himself before doing the sign of the cross over his chest with a trembling hand. You could hear the loud creaking of the old wood protesting under the weight of his frame. He didn’t dare to speak, throat closed as if a long, ghostly hand had been wrapped around it. He only let out an encouraging sound, prompting you to continue.

“I had... been having thoughts. For a while now. I never felt bad enough about them to confess but now that I’m about to get married it feels... wrong to carry them with me” you paused, and he had to focus to not concentrate enough to where he could see your chest rising and falling through the screen “My fiancée is very devoted, more than I ever was. Sorry” you let out an embarrassed chuckle at the confession “So he and I, we have never crossed the... mh “he didn’t need to pry to know you were biting your lip. You had always had that habit when deep in thought “We have never crossed the physical part of, you know, uhm--”

“You’ve never fornicated?”

The intrusion of his voice, stern and low in the deep silence of the confessional had sent a cold shiver down your spine, and made your legs close almost under command. Almost like a warning. For a moment you both remained in stunned silence. On the other side of the partition, Yunho was trying to keep his breathing under control.

“Yes... we have never--” you didn’t know why you felt so ashamed when you had in fact done nothing wrong. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to use that word. It somehow felt dirtier, heavier than any other you could have conjured up “Which, is good. According to the church, that is. But the problem is... I really want to” your head sunk down, eyes fixated on the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your knee length skirt “I have thoughts sometimes, about my fiancée."

Yunho could feel the familiar, oppressive feeling of these demons that you’d always carry with you. They made his body heat spike and clothes stick to it in a way that only the fires of hell could. His clammy hands trembled over his lap, and he was sure the already small room had shrunk. He could feel a fever coming up.

“What do you think about?”

You paused. Not sure if he was supposed to ask such a thing. Still, you couldn’t deny the burning feeling in your lower abdomen. The one that had been haunting you for years, looming over you with an accusatory finger.

“I think about how I want him to touch me. Sometimes when he holds my hand, or places it over my knee I imagine... things” you looked out of the corner of your eye towards the screen, he said nothing, waiting for you to continue “I have felt his hands between my legs before, never close, just holding me. Strong, and firm and warm... “you trailed off, consumed by the memory of Jongho’s hands holding onto your thighs in a moment of weakness. Then you felt ashamed of bringing up his sins, as they weren’t yours to confess “He’s never done anything more! But I keep wanting him to. I don’t know how he’d look at me if he knew how I feel”

“As long as you don’t give in”

Yunho breathed on the other side, and you felt a sharp tug at your chest when you realized it really was him on the other side. The same boy you had played in the playground with. The same that had always stood tall and proper behind his father during services. Oh, how embarrassing it was to have to tell this to the same man that was to marry you to your fiancee.

“I touch myself sometimes, Father” your voice dragged the sentence through the thick air of the confessional. It slithered and cut through it until it reached Yunho’s ears, sweet and poisonous. A thin line of sweat had formed at his hairline, the first drop threatening to fall into the abyss that was now the inside of Yunho’s confessional.

Your hands were clasped together, a sign of prayer shamefully buried between your thighs and pressed against the growing, humid heat between your legs.

“At first I tried to pretend it wasn’t on purpose. Lying to myself, and God I suppose, acting like the sheets were just brushing against me” you bit your lip “I have rubbed myself against the pillows my mother-in-law gifted us for out anniversary”

You could almost have heard the faint creak of Yunho’s hands gripping the edge of his chair. His body shook as if God himself had thrown lighting to ripple through his body to punish him for failing this cruel test of faith. But the hellish heat had overpowered it, taking over the feeling and sending it directly between his legs where Yunho’s shame started to stand tall and hard against his black pants.

“I started rubbing myself with my hands first, and I always say that I will not go any further but... I always put my fingers inside. I can’t stop myself” you admit in a genuine, ashamed sob “It’s been going on for so long, I can’t say how many times I have done it. When Jongho asked me to marry him my first thought wasn’t clean, Father, oh no, it wasn’t”

Your bottom lip trembled under the tight hold of your teeth over it. Yunho’s chest rose in as he inhaled deeply, head thrown back and eyes closed. Praying to God, to please help him. He was losing his strength, his composure, his dignity.

“I thought... finally, he’ll finally take me as a woman. I had visions of our naked bodies pressed against each other, tightly and I could hear us saying and doing the most sinful things imaginable. I am a virgin, Father” you confessed, and that seemed to do more to Yunho than anything you’d said so far. His hand flew over the proof of his weakness, as if trying to stop the inevitable “I used to be afraid it might hurt when I finally could... but now I don’t mind. I think even the pain would satisfy me, Father. I have seen him before, when he comes out of the shower, when we are sleeping in bed. I have thought of touching him, daydreamed of having him inside of me in so many ways. Do I really want to get married?”

Your question had no answer, but you didn’t need one.

“Or do I just want to be taken like a common harlot? Used and tainted so deliciously” your hands had been pressing at your then soaked cotton panties, your breathing had turned labored and hot “I think I’m sick, Father”

But Yunho was silent.

There was no heavy breathing, no hands gripping tightly into wood to anchor himself.

The only remains of his pathetic, feeble spirit a barely visible wet, sticky patch on the black fabric of his pants. It spread against his skin, disgustingly warm like a proof of his own sin. Of his weakness. That's what you were.

It also meant you’d seen Wake Up more times than you could count. Concerts. Dance practices. Now fan meetings. Every single version somehow managed to feel different. Somehow managed to drive you a little crazier every time. You tucked your feet beneath you as the camera swept across the stage, the crowd erupting loud enough that even through the television speakers it filled the apartment. “There he is…” you murmured with an involuntary smile as Yunho walked into frame beneath the lights, freshly dyed light pink hair almost glowing against the darker stage, his white shirt crisp beneath the fitted black pinstriped vest. Even from the couch, you knew exactly how warm he’d be after the performance, how his sleeves would inevitably end up rolled to his forearms backstage because he hated the feeling of damp cuffs.

The music started and your attention snagged on that familiar prop. The black silk rope. Again. “Seriously?” you muttered to absolutely no one. You’d watched this choreography so many times you could probably perform half of it yourself. You remembered the first rehearsal clip Yunho had shown you, grinning as he asked, “Too much?” while practicing with the rope in your living room. You’d rolled your eyes then, insisting he looked ridiculous. He hadn’t believed you. Mostly because your face had turned bright red five seconds later.

Now, the choreography had become second nature to him. The rope slid effortlessly through his hands as if it belonged there, each practiced movement smooth, confident, almost unfairly controlled. He didn’t have to think about it anymore. You, unfortunately… thought about it far too much. You let out a slow breath, leaning back against the couch cushion. “This is getting ridiculous.” Every performance left you with the exact same thought. Yunho was always the one in control. In every playful argument. Every time you had sex. Until that choreography. Until you’d watched him effortlessly loop black rope around his hands for what felt like the millionth time.

And somewhere between the first performance and today… a dangerous little thought had planted itself in the back of your mind. What if, just once…. the roles were reversed? You groaned dramatically, dropping your head back against the couch. “He’d never go for it.” The television, unsurprisingly, offered no sympathy. Onscreen, Yunho finished the routine with the same confident smile that had first stolen your heart, meanwhile, his girlfriend sat frozen on the couch, blanket pooled forgotten around her lap, staring at the television with an expression somewhere between exasperation, inspiration, and hard need.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

By the time Yunho and Yeosang got home, the city had settled into that familiar Sunday night lull. Restaurants still buzzed beneath glowing signs, but most apartment windows were already lit with warm lamps instead of bright ceiling lights. Yunho unlocked the front door with practiced ease. “I’m home,” he called out as the door swung shut behind them. He slipped off his sneakers, lining them neatly beside Yeosang’s. “Baby?” Still no answer as Yeosang wandered straight toward the kitchen, already opening the refrigerator. “She’s probably out.”

Yunho hummed absentmindedly. “Yeah.” It wasn’t unusual. The convenience store at the end of the block had become one of your favorite little routines whenever he was gone for schedules. Sometimes you’d wander down there for ramen at 11:00 at night. Other times you’d come back with ice cream, chips, and whatever new drink had caught your eye. More than once he’d opened the freezer only to discover four different flavors because, in your words, you couldn’t decide. He smiled to himself at the thought as his eyes drifted toward the living room.

The blanket you’d been using earlier was still tossed across the couch, one sleeve of his oversized hoodie hanging over the armrest where you’d clearly abandoned it in a hurry. An empty mug sat on the coffee table beside the television remote, the screen now dark after the livestream had long since ended. “You watched today,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else as Yeosang appeared in the doorway carrying a bottle of water. “She said she would.”

Yunho reached down, absentmindedly picking up the hoodie. It still held a faint trace of your perfume beneath the familiar scent of his own, enough to make him smile despite how tired he was. “I’m gonna shower,” he said, draping the hoodie over one arm. “She’s probably grabbing snacks or something.” Yeosang nodded. “If she brings back those honey butter chips, they’re mine.”

Yunho made his way down the short hallway, pushing open his bedroom door with the toe of his sock. The room was exactly as he’d left it that morning. His side of the bed was unmade. Your charger still dangled from the outlet beside your pillow. One of your books rested face down on his nightstand where you’d clearly promised yourself you’d only stop reading for five minutes.

He set his bag on the floor with a sigh before shrugging out of his jacket, tossing it neatly across the chair in the corner. The silence didn’t strike him as strange. Not yet.

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Steam curled lazily beneath the bathroom door, the steady rush of the shower muffling the rest of the apartment as Yunho stood beneath the hot water with his head tipped back, letting the day’s exhaustion wash off him along with the last traces of stage makeup and washout pink dye. His shoulders ached pleasantly from three days of performances, fan interactions, and endless rehearsals. It was the kind of tired that only came after giving everything you had to thousands of people.

Outside the bathroom, the apartment remained quiet until the front door clicked open and you stepped inside carrying a small matte black paper bag tucked discreetly under your arm. Or tried to anyways. “Hey,” you called softly, slipping off your shoes. Yeosang leaned around the corner from the kitchen, still holding the bottle of water he’d been nursing. “Finally.” You blinked. “What?” He pointed an accusing finger at you. “Did you get the honey butter chips?”

“No.”

His face immediately fell. “You went out… and didn’t get snacks?”

“I wasn’t really shopping for snacks.”

“Then why’d you go?”

You hesitated for the briefest second before casually lifting the paper bag a little higher against your side. “Just…needed to grab something.” Yeosang eyed the bag suspiciously. “What’d you buy?”

Your grip tightened almost instinctively. “Oh…nothing exciting.”

“Hm.” He narrowed his eyes for a second, then shrugged. “As long as it’s not another mug.”

“I do not have that many mugs.”

“You have twelve.”

“I use them.”

“You rotate through three.”

“They all have different purposes.”

Yeosang stared. “You’ve named your mugs, haven’t you?”

“…Maybe.”

He sighed. “I’ll never understand either of you.”

You laughed, grateful the conversation had veered away from the bag tucked against your side. Because inside wasn’t another mug. Or a candle that Yunho and Yeosang liked to remind you that you had too many already. The small boutique three blocks away from the apartment wasn’t technically the closest shop. It also wasn’t the kind of place you could accidentally wander into. You’d stood outside its tinted windows for nearly ten minutes before working up the courage to go inside, your heart pounding so loudly you were convinced the cashier could hear it.

Even now, your cheeks warmed at the memory. The employee hadn’t batted an eye. They’d simply asked if you needed any help. You’d somehow managed to mumble, “I’m…just looking.” And then five painfully awkward minutes later, you’d walked back out carrying one small purchase nestled inside the discreet black bag now hidden against your side. A length of soft black rope. Nothing flashy. Nothing ornate. Just enough to turn a reckless thought that had been living rent free in your head ever since you saw the choreography for Wake Up for the first time into something undeniably real.

The sound of the shower still echoed faintly from down the hall as you slipped past the kitchen. “I’m gonna put my stuff away,” you said over your shoulder. Yeosang waved absentmindedly. “If Yunho asks, tell him I’m still mourning those chips.”

“I’ll let him know.” You disappeared down the hallway, closing Yunho’s bedroom door behind you with a quiet click. Only then did you finally pull the black rope from the bag. It rested neatly coiled in your hands. Seeing it sitting there in the bedroom somehow made the idea feel much less like an impulsive fantasy… and much more like a conversation you were actually going to have.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The bathroom mirror had long since disappeared behind a layer of steam as Yunho ran a towel through his damp pink hair one last time. The hot shower had done exactly what he’d hoped. His muscles felt looser, the lingering ache in his back softened to something manageable after another full day of smiling, dancing, and waving beneath bright stage lights. He adjusted the towel secured around his waist before reaching for the doorknob and going down the hall to his bedroom.

You were perched against the headboard in one of his old tshirts, absently scrolling through your phone. His lips curved into a smile. “There you are. I thought you went missing.”

“I was only gone for a little while.”

Yunho wandered farther into the room towards his closet. “I came home and you weren’t here. I even called for you.” He was teasing because you and the guys all loved to call him clingy.

“I heard from Yeosang.”

He chuckled. “Apparently he was more concerned about honey butter chips than where you were.”

“He seemed pretty devastated I didn’t get any.”

“He’ll survive.” You smiled faintly before dragging your eyes down his damp body, gaze lingering at the obvious bulge of his dick behind the fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist.

Yunho noticed but decided to let you continue instead of tease you as he tilted his head. “So…” He stopped beside the bed. “Where’d you go?” Your gaze moved from the small drop of water you had been following as it moved slowly down his stomach to back up to his eyes. “Just out.” You shrugged.

“Out where?”

“The neighborhood.”

He gave you an amused look. “The neighborhood’s kind of big.” You shrugged again with what you hoped looked like casual indifference. “I just needed to grab something.”

“What’d you grab?”

“Nothing important.”

“Hm.” Yunho knew you well enough to recognize when you were being deliberately vague. Normally you would’ve happily told him about every aisle you’d wandered through, every impulse purchase you’d almost made, and whatever cashier had tried flirting with you.

Tonight… you were dodging.

His gaze drifted toward the nightstand as he reached for the charger he’d left plugged into the wall that morning. And that’s when he noticed it. The small matte black paper bag sat neatly beside his phone. It wasn’t large. The top had been folded over twice. No logo faced him, only plain black paper with short rope handles. He frowned slightly. “I don’t recognize that bag. Where’s it from?”

Your heartbeat stumbled. “Oh…” You glanced over far too quickly. “Yeah.” He picked up his phone but kept looking at the bag. “So that’s what you went out for?”

“Mhm.”

“What is it?”

You sat your phone down. “It’s…” You searched for an answer that wasn’t technically a lie. “…something I wanted.” He looked back at you with a suspicious look. “You’re being incredibly mysterious.”

“Am I?”

He stepped closer, leaning one shoulder lightly against the wall as he studied you for another moment. There was something different tonight. Not bad. Just….. Off. You wouldn’t quite meet his eyes for more than a second before looking away again. And every few moments your attention drifted toward the black bag as though checking it was still there and then right back to his dick. Yunho followed your gaze once more and when it drifted back to the bag…. “Can I look?”

Your eyes snapped back to his. “No.” The answer came so quickly that even you blinked and he couldn’t help laughing. “That was suspicious.”

“It’s…a surprise.”

“A surprise? For me?”

“…Eventually.”

He folded his arms, an amused grin slowly spreading across his face. “Now you’ve definitely made me curious.” You offered him your most innocent smile as he narrowed his eyes playfully. You looked away for all of two seconds just long enough to convince yourself he’d drop the subject.

Yunho, on the other hand… he’d absolutely no intention of letting his curiosity die that easily. The moment your attention drifted back toward your phone, he moved.

“Yunho!” Before you could react, he’d leaned across the nightstand, snatched the little black paper bag by its rope handles, and taken two long steps backward with a grin that screamed catch me if you can. “Hey!” You shot off the bed. “Give that back!”

He laughed, holding it just out of reach. “You’ve been acting suspicious since I got out the shower.”

“It is literally none of your business.”

“…My surprise isn’t my business?”

“You weren’t supposed to find out yet!”

“Too late.”

“Jeong Yunho.”

“Y/N.”

You folded your arms. “Don’t.”

“I just want one little peek.” His fingers were already unfolding the neatly creased top of the bag.

“Yunho…”

He glanced up, catching the genuine panic on your face and that only made him more curious. “What on earth could possibly have you this nervous?” Without waiting for an answer, he reached inside and your heart dropped into your stomach. “No, no, no…”

His fingers brushed something soft. Fabric. He slowly drew it out and looked at the neatly coiled length of black rope slipping from the bag into his hand and the room fell completely silent as Yunho just kept staring at it. His brows furrowed together. “What…” His eyes slowly lifted from the rope to you. Then back to the rope. Then back to you again. “What?”

You suddenly found the floor incredibly interesting.

“Baby? Why…” He held the rope up slightly, still looking utterly bewildered. “Why did you buy rope?” You rubbed the back of your neck, cheeks burning so hot you were convinced they could light the room.

“It’s…” you didn’t know how to say it. [[[[ “Baby I really want to tie you up and use you.”

Yunho looked at the rope again, then at the little black bag still dangling from his other hand. Realization didn’t hit all at once. It arrived in pieces. “Wait. Is this because of Wake Up?” It’s not like he was oblivious. He’d noticed the way you would get flustered at the choreo.

“…Maybe.”

Yunho stood frozen for another minute, still holding the neatly coiled rope as the corners of his mouth slowly, helplessly curled upward. He looked at you with an expression somewhere between stunned, amused, and deeply turned on. He gripped the rope and moved to stand in front of you where you still sat on the bed. He used his free hand to reach up and grip your chin gently making you look up at him. “Is that what this is?” His thumb brushed across your bottom lip. “You want me to tie you up, baby?”

You almost said yes without thinking. Almost completely forgetting what you bought the rope in the first place. “It’s…” you darted your tongue out, wetting your lips. “it’s not for me….”

Yunho stared at you, his grip on your chin holding on until the realization hit him and his hand fell. He was quiet for a few minutes before he spoke. “You….” A disbelieving breathless laugh escaped him. “you want to tie me up?”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he laughed. “Yeah…. that’s not gonna happen.” He shook his head and you pushed him back as you stood up. “What?” You felt like you were being rage baited. Him laughing like the idea, the fantasy you had, was ridiculous. Like there was no you would ever tie him up. So….. you pushed him. “Are you a pussy?”

Yunho’s laughter stopped. His eyes darkened almost instantly and his grip on the rope tightened. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” You looked down at the rope in his grip then towards his bulge still hidden behind the towel and smirked when you noticed his dick twitch. He liked this. He just refused to admit it. “You can’t do it. Unfortunate.” You moved your hand, all the nerves you had earlier about bringing this fantasy to him, gone. You slid your hand up his chest. “I had so many…..” you let out a little breathless laugh. “ways to use you.”

Use him….. the thought alone made Yunho’s dick twitch again. He could feel himself getting hard. He’s never let anyone in control before. He’s always been a very dominant person in bed. Even in the two years the two of you have been together the closes you ever got to taking control is when you ride him. And that didn’t really count for much.

“Look at you…” your voice was full of false concern as you slid your hand back down his chest and moved it right against his dick. “you’re already hard just thinking about it.”

Yunho’s mind raced the second the words left your mouth. He kept replaying the image of you binding him, taking control, using every inch of him while he lay helpless. The thought should have felt ridiculous, but his dick twitched hard again, betraying how much the idea turned him on. He swallowed, jaw tight, trying to look unaffected even as the tips of his ears turned red.

After a long moment he exhaled through his nose and muttered, “Fine… you can try. But we both know you’ll have me pounding that pussy to come before you can finish.” He pressed the coiled rope into your hand, fingers lingering against yours like he was still deciding whether to snatch it back. You didn’t give him the chance. Your free hand hooked onto the towel around his waist and yanked it off in one swift motion. His dick sprang free, thick and flushed, already leaking at the tip and the sight made your pulse jump because he was harder than he wanted to admit.

Yunho shifted toward the bed, but you snapped the rope across his bare ass with a sharp crack making him jolt and a startled grunt escaping him, but he refused to turn around or let you see the way his dick bobbed at the sting. Instead he climbed onto the mattress without a word, settling on his back against the pillows. “So… like how do you wanna do this?” His voice came out rougher than usual.

You grabbed his wrists, looping the rope around them with quick, confident knots as Yunho watched every movement, eyes darkening as you pulled the bindings tight. Once his hands were secured you shoved him flat, climbing over his hips and dragging his bound arms above his head. The rope stretched taut when you looped it around the headboard. He tested the restraint immediately, biceps flexing, but the knots held firm making a low, involuntary sound leave him when he realized he truly couldn’t get free.

You slid off him slowly, pausing just long enough to drag your tongue over the leaking tip of his dick. Yunho’s hips jerked upward, chasing the wet heat, but you were already moving away, standing beside the bed and peeled your clothes off piece by piece while he watched, chest rising and falling faster with every inch of skin you revealed, dick twitching visibly when you finally stood naked in front of him.

“By now you’d already have me sprawled out,” you said, voice low and teasing, “trying to edge me while burying your tongue in me.” The image hit him hard and his dick jerked again, a fresh bead of precum sliding down the length as you crawled back onto the bed, kissing up his thighs, letting your breath ghost over his balls before dragging your tongue in one long stripe from base to tip. You never took him into your mouth though. Instead you continued upward, nipping at his chest until your teeth closed around one nipple and Yunho hissed, hips bucking as more precum spilled from him.

You straddled him again, his dick trapped hot and hard against your stomach. It throbbed against your skin, the tip brushing the underside of your breasts when you leaned forward to kiss him then sat back up and rocked your hips just enough to let the length slide between your folds, coating him in your wetness while your clit dragging along the ridge of him. Yunho groaned, voice strained. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

You teased him just like that for a good long minute before reaching down and wrapping your hand around his dick. You stroked him slowly at first, savoring the way his abs tightened, then picked up speed until your fist was flying over him. “Look at you,” you murmured, “already leaking all over my hand. You like being tied up don’t you.” Yunho’s only answer was a broken moan as you brought your index finger to your mouth, sucking it slowly until it glistened.

Yunho’s eyes widened as you reached between his spread thighs, panting and watching your hand disappear lower. The first press of your fingertip against his hole made his entire body tense. You pushed inside carefully, working the digit deeper while your other hand kept stroking his dick. “Holy fuck,” he gasped, the word cracking into a whimper when you started thrusting your finger in time with your strokes. “God, baby…. your finger feels so good… fuck, don’t stop….. please….” His dick pulsed in your grip, balls drawing tight and right as his breathing turned ragged and his thighs started to shake you pulled both hands away.

Yunho blinked up at the ceiling, chest heaving, dick twitching angrily in the sudden absence of touch. “What are you doing?” he demanded, voice hoarse as you crawled up his body until your knees framed his head. “You want my pussy, baby?” His mouth opened, the word, please, already forming, but he bit it back at the last second and you smirked. “Yeah, you do.” You lowered yourself, settling over his face.

Yunho’s tongue met you immediately, plunging deep, groaning into your folds as you rocked against his mouth. His bound hands jerked uselessly at the headboard while you rode his face, using his tongue exactly how you wanted, gripping the headboard, grinding yourself against him, crying out when he sucked your clit and held on until your thighs trembled and you came with a sharp cry, grinding down harder. You couldn’t move for a second, catching your breath before sliding off of him, leaving his chin and lips shiny with your release.

Yunho panted, still tugging at the rope. “Okay… come on… I need…..” You cut him off by straddling his hips again and reaching between your bodies, lining his dick up and sinking down in one slow motion until he bottomed out. Both of you moaned at the stretch, your walls clenching him as you started a slow pace, rolling your hips in deep circles, grinding your clit against his pubic bone with every downward stroke.

Yunho’s breathing grew ragged fast again, he was already overstimulated from everything you’d done to him so far that the orgasm hit without warning. He came with a choked shout, dick pulsing inside you, flooding you. But you didn’t stop. You rode him straight through it, pace increasing until the wet sounds of your bodies filled the room.

You leaned forward, wrapping one hand around his throat and squeezing just enough to make his eyes roll back and make him whimper, the sound high and needy as you kept pounding yourself down onto him, your own pleasure building until you started to squirt around him, splashing between your thighs. Your legs shook but you didn’t let up until the tremors became too much and you had to stop, lifting off him on shaky limbs.

Yunho lay wrecked beneath you, chest heaving, dick still twitching and glistening as you grabbed his legs, folding him in half until his knees nearly touched his shoulders. His eyes went wide, a mix of shock and raw need as you climbed back on, sinking down onto his overstimulated dick once more.

The new angle let you take him even deeper and Yunho moaned brokenly with every thrust, completely lost. “Please… fuck, baby… fuck… take it… please… it’s yours…” The words tumbled out of him in a desperate babble, voice cracking as you rode him hard, the wet slap of skin echoing as you chased your own release. “Yunho…. say it….” You held onto his legs. “say you love it.”

“Fuck….” He jerked against the rope then tightened his grip on it just taking it. “Yes…. Fuck… yes…. Baby use me… fuck me…”

And you did. You kept pounding yourself on him relentlessly, your walls fluttering as you felt him throbbing. Yunho came again with a loud, helpless moan, dick jerking inside you. The feeling pushed you over the edge, crying out, walls clenching harder now as you came, body shaking. You stayed seated until the last aftershocks faded, milking him for everything he had before slowly lifting off of him, both of you panting and spent.

Yunho’s wrists were still bound above his head, chest glistening with sweat, expression dazed and thoroughly fucked out. The rope had done exactly what you hoped, left him completely at your mercy, and he hadn’t been able to hide how much he loved every second of it.

You dragged yourself off the bed, snatching his robe off his closet door, pulling it on and staring at your ruined boyfriend. “I’m gonna take a shower.” You bent down, kissing him, then turned and started walking towards the door.

“Y/N…” Yunho jerked at the rope. “I’m still tied up.” You didn’t even glance at him as you opened the door. “I won’t be long.” He gaped at you as you left him there. “Y/N! Get back here! Baby, please! This isn’t funny.” He slammed his head back against the pillows as Yeosang peeked in the room, took in the sight of him naked and bound….. “Mingi, they’re done.”

“What?” Yunho jerked at the rope as the shower could be heard turning on down the hall. “Yeosang… get me out…”

Yeosang just snorted and left as Mingi rounded the corner. “Dude…” he started laughing. “you get loud, you know that?” He walked inside, “where’s my charger I let you borrow?” Yunho glared at him. “Fuck your charger! Get me loose.” Mingi ignored him, finding his charger on the bedside table. He grabbed then dug his phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing!” Yunho stared as Mingi angled his phone then it flashed taking a picture. “DELETE IT.” Yunho snapped, he was jerking so hard at the rope now the headboard started banging against the wall. “Damn man….” Mingi grinned at him as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and started walking back out of the room. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

And Yunho could do nothing but lay there.

Used.

Thoroughly fucked.

And completely bound.

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When you did finally drag yourself out of bed, still half asleep and grumbling to yourself about the inconvenience, it was in baggy sweatpants and a loose-fitting shirt, your hair tied up into a bun. 

Creaking open the door to your bedroom, you watched him momentarily. He didn’t notice the disturbance, just remained locked into the game, lighting up bright colors and explosions on your television. 

Your fingers easily found the spot they always managed to settle on your face when he was around, pinching the bridge of your nose in stress. 

One of your mugs sat on the coffee table in front of him, filled to the brim. You ignored the problem at hand, the man intruding on your living room before noon without your permission, for the second, or maybe third time that week, and walked toward the coffee maker instead. 

He didn’t acknowledge you as you passed, his eyes instead remaining laser-focused on the screen. You didn’t speak either, hoping that maybe if you continued to ignore him, he’d go away. Though, based on past encounters, it never really worked out that way. Though a girl could dream. 

Pulling down a mug from the cabinet, you attempted to place it carefully on the counter before you, tempering your anger. It didn’t matter anyway, even if you slammed the thing down so hard it shattered into pieces, he still probably wouldn’t have looked up. 

It was when you reached out for the coffee pot, hand just barely touching the handle, that the anger bubbled over. 

You whipped around, coffee pot in hand, face screwed up into a scowl that only Jeong Yunho could produce. “Are you serious?” you asked, raising the coffee pot above your head, directing that scowl in his direction—not that he even looked up to see it. 

He was too locked into whatever video game he busied himself playing on your PlayStation. It drove you over the edge, how little regard he had for you. How he used your apartment like a landing ground, a place to escape—and then dared to ignore you while inside it. 

You walked around the counter, coffee pot still in hand, and stopped in front of the television with your arms outstretched. “Earth to fucking Yunho—what are you doing here?” 

You knew the answer before you asked, knew why he was there based on the sheer lack of sleep you’d gotten during the night. 

He shifted to the side in an attempt to see the screen behind you, but you moved with him, waving your arms to get in the way as much as possible. Finally, with a groan and a roll of his eyes—like you were inconveniencing him—he set down the controller. 

With his attention free, he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. His legs were spread, and he took up way more space than he needed to. 

His eyes dragged over you slowly, making a show out of looking at you. It made you squirm in a self-conscious kind of way. The kind of way that also made you want to chuck something at his head.

With a lazy smile, he finally leaned forward again, balancing elbows on the tops of his thighs. “Good morning to you, too,” he said. 

You closed your eyes, sucking in a deep breath to keep yourself from screaming at him this early in the morning. “You know, if you’re going to use my apartment as a hideout, the least you could do is save me some fucking coffee.” 

You had to admit—you understood why his apartment had a constant stream of one-night stands filing in at night and out in the morning. He had this way of looking at someone like they were the only person in the entire universe, like nothing else mattered. He looked at you like that, now. All attentive eyes and half-quirked up lips. 

“Your charm doesn’t work on me,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Because it didn’t. All that charm, it was nice. There were split seconds where you understood, sure. But that feeling always passed even faster when you remembered every other thing about him. 

“Not sure about that,” he teased. It was always this push and pull. Him trying to get under your skin, and you always reacting. 

You pushed past the teasing because you just couldn’t deal with his entire personality that early in the morning. Instead, you got back to the matter at hand. “Is she still in there?” you asked, placing the empty coffee pot down on the table in front of you, simply so you could cross your arms. 

Yunho shrugged, accentuating his uncertainty with a slight lift of his eyebrows. “Why don’t you go over and find out?” 

“We’re not doing this,” you said, looking at him with that same pointed expression. 

“Doing what?” he asked, mocking ignorance. 

This would not be the first time, nor the second, nor the third that you’d provided Jeong Yunho with this kind of turn-down service. The first had been a mistake. Knocking on his door to ream him out for being loud throughout the night. The second time he’d tricked you, asked you to come over. And the third, well, it went something like this. 

“We’re not friends. This is not something I just do for you,” you said. “And stop letting yourself into my apartment.” 

“So, are you going to do it, or?” Yunho asked, one brow raised, and you knew he wasn’t planning on relenting. No, he would be insufferable about it until you gave in. He was always stronger-willed than you in that matter—more stubborn. More annoying. 

“Make some coffee,” you said. It was in exasperation that you turned and stormed out, choosing to face the innocent woman left behind in his apartment rather than continuing to have this conversation. Plus, if there was anything you’d learned, it was that once you’d scared her away, he’d leave, too. 

You didn’t understand why he did it. The whole one-night stand after one-night stand thing. He was charming enough, and any of the many girls you’d kicked out of his apartment probably would have made for a great long-term partner. Even just a situationship. It was his biggest red flag. The thing that turned you off. But you got it, too. Because if he didn’t live next door, if you didn’t get to witness the parade and the payoff, you would probably fall for his tricks and charms just as easily. 

But you’d seen the man behind the curtain. You knew the game. And so you knew, too, that he didn’t give a single fuck about any of those women. Not even enough to reject them himself. 

Even though it wasn’t the first time you’d done this, it still felt strange. Pretending. You knocked on the door. Crossed your arms over your chest. Tapped your foot. Directed the annoyance you felt toward Yunho into pretend anger. 

Someone did, inevitably, answer the door. 

“Hey bab—” the woman started. She had long black hair and warm brown eyes. She wore a long button-up shirt that stopped above her knees. Yunho’s. You witnessed the slow furrow of her brow as she put together the situation before you started whatever badly performed rant you chose this time. 

You scrunched your face up to match, mock irritation appearing in the creases at the corner of your eyes, the slight scowl of your lips. 

“Who are you?” the girl asked. It was always their first question, and sometimes you even felt bad about having to crush their dreams—you shattered the ideal image they had of Yunho in their heads, before he could find a way to do it themselves. You framed them as a mistress, the other half of a cheater. 

Why couldn’t he just reject them himself? Wouldn’t everyone leave with more dignity in that circumstance? You and whatever girl he’d involved included?

But you stood firm, trying to imagine what it would feel like to show up at your boyfriend’s apartment only for the door to be answered by another woman. 

“I’m Yunho’s girlfriend,” you said. You’d said it before. It still felt strange. A label you would never want to have. Probably because it would land you in a situation too close to this one. “Who are you?” you asked. 

“I’m—uh,” the girl said. You didn’t stay to listen, instead pushing past her into the apartment, looking for your cheating boyfriend. It was enough to send her into high gear, throwing her clothes back on and ducking out the front door before you could so much as turn around. 

Once she was gone, you took your time leaving. There was nothing interesting in his apartment, no secrets to glean by snooping. For the most part, he was an open book. All games and pick-up lines, without any actual substance. 

You headed back to your apartment. Yunho stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, waiting for the pot of coffee to brew. 

“She’s gone,” you said. 

He chuckled under his breath, like he couldn’t believe you’d actually done it. The first time, you’d both had a laugh about the situation. The incidental scaring off of the woman he’d invited over. It wasn’t as funny anymore. At least not to you. 

You studied him, watching his face for any shred of emotion, finding none. He truly didn’t care about these women or what happened to them after they left his apartment. It wasn’t like he’d speak to them again, so why would it matter how things ended? 

“Come on,” Yunho said. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” you said. But you could feel the scowl, still pressed into your features. Disgust. 

He took a step forward, towering over you and craning his neck to meet your eyes. He loved getting into your personal space, like he was trying to figure you out just the same. But if he wouldn’t give away any shred of his real personality, then neither would you. 

He was just an annoyance. A neighbor who thought the two of you were friends. That didn’t mean you actually had to be his friend. 

“Well,” he said. “Say it.” His head tilted slightly to the side, waiting for whatever opinion you so clearly wanted to share regarding his dating habits. 

“You should go home,” you said, instead. “Thanks to you and your little house guest, I didn’t get any sleep last night—and I have to work later.” 

This made him smirk, a slow crawl across his lips as he enjoyed the thought of you listening. It wasn’t that you wanted to listen—because of course you didn’t. But he made it difficult. Your bedrooms shared a wall, and it wasn’t exactly thick. 

“Don’t start,” you said, stopping whatever thought process was going on behind his eyes, whatever words he was planning on using to get even further under your skin. 

He took the hint, holding his hands up in defense. He stepped away from you, taking out the full coffee pot to fill both of your mugs. He scooped one spoonful of sugar into his own mug, stirring it a few times before grabbing the mug and walking out of the kitchen. “Have a good day at work,” he said, before the door to your apartment opened and closed. 

“I just don’t understand what his problem is,” you said, standing behind the bar, mixing a drink. Jihyo sat across from you, nursing the first drink you’d made for her. It was a quiet Thursday night, so for the most part, your bar was occupied by friends and a few other regulars who didn’t require that much attention. 

It was Wooyoung who responded. “Maybe he likes you,” he said. It wouldn’t be the first time this idea was floated by the board. But it only earned an eye roll from both you and Jihyo, who refused to believe this asinine idea. “It’s guy logic,” Wooyoung said. 

“Maybe you should move,” Jihyo suggested. 

You pointed a finger at her, but looked at Wooyoung. “Now these are the types of solutions I’m looking for.” You laughed. “Maybe I should move.” 

Wooyoung and Jihyo have been your best friends for ages, ever since college. They’ve been there for you throughout more challenging circumstances than just Yunho. If anyone were going to help you get through this, it would be them. 

“You can’t move,” Wooyoung pointed out. “Your place is too nice.” 

You’d talked in this circle with them countless times before. There was no obvious solution, aside from putting up with him. 

“I could threaten to call the police,” you suggested. “Next time he shows up in my apartment.” You placed the finished drink on the counter in front of Wooyoung, taking his empty glass. 

Jihyo pressed a finger to her lips. “Or,” she said. “You could lock your door.”

“I do lock my door,” you said. “He just knows where I keep the spare.”

“Okay, so hide the spare somewhere else,” Wooyoung said. 

“I’ve tried that,” you said. 

“Do you really need the spare?” Wooyoung asked. 

“You made me get one,” you said, pointedly. “When I kept locking myself out.” 

“Right, yeah,” he said. “You could give your backup to Jihyo instead—then there’s no Yunho problem, and I don’t have to worry about you calling me at two in the morning when you lock yourself out.” 

Jihyo said, “No, no,” with a wag of her finger. 

With a sigh, you picked up a collection of shot glasses, placing them on the bar between the three of you. They both had regular people jobs—i.e., ones that required them to be up early the next day, but neither did they protest when you started filling the glasses. 

Just as you filled the last of the three, the bell atop the front door chimed. Pushing open the door was the topic of conversation himself. He wore a black leather jacket, snow dusting the tops of his shoulders. His cheeks were a soft pink from the cold, and his eyes found yours immediately from across the room. 

His pleased smile was met by yet another scowl on your end. He closed the distance between the door and the bar in only a few steps, coming up behind Jihyo and Wooyoung. He reached forward and took Wooyoung’s shot as you pushed it forward. 

Wooyoung looked at you, brows drawn together in shared annoyance. You and Jihyo already had your glasses raised, and Yunho was quick to join in on the cheers he hadn’t been invited to participate in. 

He didn’t say anything, and neither did you. He just raised the shot to his lips, tipping it back and swallowing the clear liquid as if it were water. 

You watched in stunned shock. 

“Damn,” Yunho said. “You’re hanging out without me?” 

You let your eyes fall shut for a second, trying to process the situation, trying to figure out what words to say aloud without coming off like a complete and total asshole. 

Jihyo took the lead instead. “Why would we invite you?” she asked, a pretty smile appearing on her lips. One that might have looked harmless to an outsider, but you know meant I’ll fucking kill you. 

Yunho placed a hand on his chest. “And here I thought we were friends.”

“You’re delusional,” you said. 

He lifted his eyes to yours and smiled warmly, like he really was that delusional. You poured Wooyoung another shot, holding it while you waited for Yunho to sit anywhere else. Of course, he didn’t, instead opting to sit on the other side of Jihyo, who promptly turned her back to face Wooyoung completely. 

You put the replacement in Wooyoung’s waiting hands.

Just as you were raising the shot glasses, Yunho cleared his throat. “Can I get something to drink, beautiful?” He had one arm on the counter, and he leaned forward over it, looking at you with those big brown eyes. You might even be attracted to him if he weren’t so god damn annoying. 

You ignored him, instead, looking back to your friends. Your shot glasses clinked in the center before you all threw them back. 

“Why is he here?” Jihyo asked in a low voice. 

“He can hear you,” Yunho quipped, and you could hear the smirk in his tone without even looking in his direction. “And this is a public bar. You do know that, right?” 

Jihyo pressed her lips into a tight line, glaring at you because she refused to turn around and glare at the source of the problem. 

“What do you want to drink, Yunho?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest and attempting to press a smile to your lips. It was your job, after all, to provide good customer service. You couldn’t be the one asking him why he was there or what he wanted from you. At least not when you were on the clock. You would leave those questions to Jihyo and Wooyoung. 

“Do you know how to make an Old Fashioned?” Yunho asked. 

Jihyo did whip around to face him, then. “She’s a bartender, you idiot. She knows how to make an Old Fashioned.” 

That same slow smile crept across his lips. “You’re pretty when you’re mad,” he said, eliciting an immediate groan from Jihyo. 

“Oh my god,” she said. “What is your problem?” 

You looked to Wooyoung, who attempted to hide a laugh with his hand. This was pretty much how it went whenever the three of you were together. You and Wooyoung stopping Jihyo from getting into yelling matches with whoever didn’t agree with her. It was charming, in its own way. 

“It’s fine,” you said, not wanting to make a scene in front of the four other customers in the bar. “Just ignore him. I do.”

You started making the Old Fashion instead, letting Wooyoung and Jihyo get back to their own conversation. All the while, feeling Yunho’s eyes trailing your hands, watching your movements. 

Maybe Jihyo saw your cheeks turning red, or maybe she was just really curious about your love life, because she diverted the conversation away from Yunho, distracting you from his watchful eyes in one swoop. “How are things going with Hongjoong?” she asked. 

You placed the drink in front of Yunho, saying, “Oh, yeah. They’re good,” while making direct eye contact. There was something quizzical in his gaze that you couldn’t quite place. You didn’t ask, and he didn’t voice whatever question it was that plagued his brain. “We’re going out tomorrow night.”

“Third date, right?” Jihyo asked. 

“Mhm,” you said. 

“I hope he puts out,” Wooyoung said, and Yunho choked on his sip, setting the glass down to cough into the collar of his jacket, hiding the redness blooming on his cheeks. 

Your eyes widened at Wooyoung, a pointed glare. 

“What?” he said, unsure why you were looking at him like that. “You’re the one who said it had been a while—”

Jihyo elbowed him in the stomach, and that was the end of that conversation. 

You printed out Yunho’s receipt and placed it on the table in front of him without meeting his eyes. 

“Actually, can I start a tab?” he asked. 

You grabbed the receipt, crumpling it into a ball. Through gritted teeth, you said, “Of course,” taking his card out of his outstretched hand. 

Customers thinned out one at a time for the next several hours, with Jihyo and Wooyoung finally departing a little bit before midnight. But Yunho stayed. 

At 1am, he was still there, watching you clean up from across the bar. 

“So,” he started. 

You threw your head back in exasperation, even though the conversation had hardly begun. You just knew, because it was Yunho, that it was going to be exhausting. 

“You’re dating,” he said. 

It wasn’t what you expected, and it caught you off guard. The way he said it so casually, aloud to the empty bar.

“Is there something strange about that to you?” you asked. “Me dating?” You tried not to go on the defensive. But there was something so inherently cutting about the way he’d said it. Like he couldn’t believe it. Did he think there was something wrong with you? Something fundamentally unlikable? Or were you just projecting?

“No,” he said. “Of course not.”

Silence. Deafening. Your ears had a heartbeat. 

“So, it’s been a while…?” he asked, and that stupid fucking smirk reappeared on his lips, like he was proud of something. 

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” you said. 

“You know, if you don’t remember how to do it, I can give you a crash course,” Yunho suggested, leaning back in his seat. 

“I’ll kill you.” 

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” 

You took your phone out to check the time, waiting for the numbers to flip forward just enough. When they did, you smiled. “Sorry, we’re actually closed.” You turned to face the register, printing out his receipt. You placed it in a book, then in front of him. 

“You want a ride home?” he asked. 

You couldn’t help the look of surprise that appeared on your face. 

“What?” he asked. “I’m a gentleman.” 

“You are not.” 

“Just because you don’t like me, doesn’t mean I’m not charming,” he said. “So, do you want a ride home or not? It’s cold.” 

He signed the receipt and closed the book. 

You shook your head. “No,” you said. It sounded too firm. “Thanks,” you tacked on. You’d face whatever winter weather you had to in order to get home without his help. 

Yunho stood up, and for some reason, you watched him. You always forgot how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were, until he was standing in front of you. He tossed his leather jacket back on, shoved his hands into his pockets, and left without another word. 

You followed, locking the door behind him. Then, finishing your tasks, you grabbed the book off the counter and pulled out his receipt. On the few drinks he’d ordered, he tipped nearly thirty dollars. And there was a note scrawled across the bottom, too. Sorry for being an ass. You looked at it for a while before putting the tip into the system, storing the receipt, and shutting everything down. 

It was a short walk between the bar and your apartment. Only about ten minutes. There was never any point in getting a car. On weekend nights, you could always count on Jihyo or Wooyoung to bring you home. Other nights, the walk wasn’t so bad. Besides, you kept pepper spray and a knife close at hand in case anyone dared try something with you. It wasn’t masked murderers in the middle of the night that caused a problem, though. 

It was the torrential downpour that came on like a light switch, drenching you in ice-cold rain in seconds. You held one arm above your head as you walked, but it barely shielded you from the storm. 

There were hardly any cars on the road, so when a motorcycle pulled up next to you, you were fairly certain you were about to be kidnapped. 

So when the rider took off his helmet and extended it to you, revealing a quickly drenched Yunho, you couldn’t keep the shock from your face. 

“Come on,” he said. “Get on.” 

“What?” you asked, because your brain wasn’t exactly functioning properly. You didn’t even know he had a motorcycle, and you certainly weren’t going to get on the back of it. 

“Come on,” he said again. “It’s pouring. You’ve made it ten feet. Let me take you home.”

You hated the way he said it, but your clothes were getting heavier as he spoke, so you stepped forward and took it. 

“Isn’t it dangerous?” you asked. “You don’t have another helmet?” 

He shook his head, freeing some of the wet hair that was stuck to his forehead. “Stop talking,” he said. “Just get on.” 

You swung a leg over, keeping your distance from him. “What—how do I?” you asked. 

“Hold on to me,” he said. You hesitated. “Just do it, it’s pouring, if you haven’t noticed, and I’d like to get going.” 

You scooted forward and placed your hands delicately on the sides of his body. One hand at a time, he pulled you forward even more, putting each of your palms on his chest. “You’re such a baby,” he said. “Just hold on to me.” 

“Fine,” you grumbled, pressing your body against his. You hated how large he felt. His back was wide and strong, and his chest felt warm underneath your hands. 

Before you could think about how much you liked being close to him, he started driving. You hardly even had time to worry about him driving without a helmet in the rain before you were pulling into the apartment complex’s garage. 

You were still clutching his chest when he said, “You can let go.” 

“Oh,” you said, not loud enough to be heard through the helmet. You did, however, jump away from him, pulling your arms back and scooting backward before clambering off the bike altogether. 

Your heart raced, and a clamminess had settled on your skin beneath all the layers of drenched clothing. When your hands touched his body—even through his clothes, it felt like being electrocuted. No reason for that could be justified by hatred. But you hated it, still. That he was so hot that just touching him made your body react. You convinced yourself it was purely animalistic. That how much you hated him couldn’t negate how attractive he was. It made you hate him more. 

He turned off the bike and swung a leg over to stand up, reaching a hand out to you. You stared at it for a second too long. “The helmet,” he said. 

Right, you thought. What was making your brain lag behind? Why couldn’t you fucking think straight? Surely it couldn’t be the dripping wet 6’1” man in front of you. 

You took the helmet off and handed it to him. He secured it on the back of the bike, then lifted his hands to grasp his shirt, twisting it. Water fell in droplets onto the floor between you, but your eyes lingered on the patch of exposed skin, the curve of a few abs under the thin shirt. You could barely even process the fact that you were looking, let alone that he looked good. It was only when he cleared his throat that your eyes flicked up to meet his and that stupid smirk that never seemed to fade fully. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you said abruptly before taking a few quick steps away toward the elevator. Unfortunately, he followed, slipping inside before the doors could budge. 

Right, you wanted to say. We’re neighbors. At least you wouldn’t have to listen to him engaging in his usual extracurricular activities that night. Unless he magically found some way to get a girl back to his place in the middle of the night. Maybe he could summon one from the internet with the power of dating apps. You didn’t know how he did it, anyway. 

The elevator immediately felt small, the ride up to your floor longer than it had ever been. Every time you looked up, he was trying to find your eyes, watching you intently. But neither did he say anything—and of course, you kept quiet too. Kept actively trying not to look at him. But you were curious, and you couldn’t help yourself sometimes. Because who was this man? This man who grated on your nerves and got under your skin and was so god damn annoying, but also left you big tips with nice notes and drove you home from work in the rain? This man who was absolutely gorgeous, whose body you wanted to touch again?

“You seem like you’re panicking,” he said.

“What?” you asked, lifting your head to meet his eyes. He leaned casually against the railing in the elevator, watching you with his hands in his pockets. “I’m not panicking. Why would I be panicking?” you asked, but it was immediately too defensive, too much talking. 

He raised a brow, nodding almost imperceptibly. “Right,” he said. “All things someone who isn’t panicking would say.” He kicked off the wall, striding toward you, only to stop a few inches short. 

“What are you doing?” you asked. 

“Just trying to figure you out,” he said. 

“I don’t need figuring out,” you said. 

“Really?” he asked. He reached out, then, because he couldn’t help it. Because he wanted to touch you. His hand skimmed your bicep, and you shivered. He leaned forward. “Are you sure you don’t like me?” 

“Yes,” you said, through gritted teeth, trying to sound as sure of yourself as you possibly could. 

This only elicited a smile and a dry laugh from Yunho. “You don’t sound sure.” 

“I could kiss you, and I would still feel absolutely nothing,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. Who was he to question your feelings, especially when all you’d ever given him were snarky comments and sass? Did he think a few longing looks at his abs equated true desire?

“Prove it,” he said. 

“What?” 

“Kiss me,” he said. 

Later that night, when you struggled to sleep—you’d argue with yourself about the reasons. You’d say it was a matter of impulse. A desire to prove him wrong. But there would be something in the back of your head, too, a nagging, whispering like the devil on your shoulder—you did it because you wanted to. 

When you stepped forward and stood on your toes, you weren’t thinking about any of that. 

It was a challenge, and you weren’t one to back down. Simple as that. 

The kiss started soft. Yunho took a moment to react, his lips still against yours for only a second before he stepped forward into you, forcing you backward into the wall. His hands moved, first grabbing your upper arms, then the sides of your face as he tilted your head back to deepen it—slipping a tongue between your lips. 

You didn’t hold back. Your hands gripped the zippered edges of his jacket, pulling him toward you needlessly. 

The kiss was not kind or soft, but passionate and aggressive, like something pent up was spilling out for everyone to see. 

Only the ding of the elevator reaching your floor was enough to separate you. You pulled away, letting your hands drop from his jacket as your thumb came up to wipe away some inevitably smeared lipstick—probably worse than you could save with a simple action, anyway. 

“See,” you said, rolling your shoulders back. “Nothing.” 

Then, you slipped out from under his grasp and walked out of the elevator, trying to keep your pace even and calm until you were inside your apartment, breathing heavily with your back against the door. 

Yunho turned to watch you leave, but didn’t follow. Instead, he stood stock still in the center of the elevator, fingers touching his lips, until the doors started to close. 

“You what?” Jihyo asked. She leaned against the door frame as you dusted blush across your cheekbones. 

You hadn’t exactly planned on telling her—or anyone—what happened, but it just slipped out. There weren’t really words to explain the situation. You couldn’t figure out why you’d done it, anyway. He’d tested you, and you weren’t one to back away from a dare. You wanted him to know, for certain, that he had no chance with you. 

But why, then, had it been so difficult to stop thinking about him? 

“I don’t know,” you said, because they were the only words bubbling to the surface in your otherwise Yunho-occupied mind. The heat of his lips on yours, the way his hands roamed all over your skin. You were starting to understand why the women he shared a bed with sang his praises all night long. 

“Well—why? How?” she asked. “When?” 

When you didn’t respond right away, Jihyo’s eyes widened expectantly, waiting for you to reveal all the dirty details of the situation. 

With a sigh, you put down the brush and turned, leaning against the sink. “He gave me a ride home last night, after my shift.”

“He stayed that late?” 

“Yes,” you said. “And I thought it was just to get on my nerves—but I don’t know. He left me a big tip and apologized for being such an ass.”

“He what?” 

“He left a note on his check. Sorry for being an ass,” you explained. 

“And then he kissed you?” Jihyo asked, one brow raised. 

You shook your head. “No. He left. I started walking home. It was cold. It started raining. Yunho found me. I don’t know how. Maybe he was waiting. I don’t know. He gave me a ride home on his motorcycle, by the way.” 

“You got on a motorcycle with Yunho?” 

Your eyes narrowed. “Is that so unbelievable?” 

“A little bit, yeah,” she commented. 

“Anyway, it’s pouring. He drives me home. We’re in the elevator on the way up, and he just accuses me of looking at him differently.” 

“Were you?” Jihyo asked. 

“Hm?” 

“Were you looking at him differently?” she clarified. 

“Oh.” You hesitated. “Of course not. But I don’t know what I was thinking. The words just kind of came out. I said something along the lines of, I could kiss you and still feel nothing.” You, of course, did remember the exact words you’d spoken—but you were trying to be aloof. Trying to pretend that it wasn’t affecting you. 

You weren’t very good at it. And besides. Jihyo could always see through your bullshit. 

“And then he told me to prove it,” you said, your voice a bit smaller than before, ashamed of the act so many hours past it. An entire night's sleep and you still couldn’t believe you’d actually done it. You should have just laughed in his face. Should have ignored him, like you always did. 

“So you did,” Jihyo said. 

“So I did,” you echoed. 

“But you felt something,” she said. 

“But I felt something.” Your stomach flipped. You turned away from Jihyo, facing the mirror again, your hands gripping the edge. “And I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

Jihyo, ever the pragmatic, said, “Well, stop thinking about it. He’s an asshole, remember.” 

You weren’t naive to believe that his apology truly fixed anything. Besides, maybe this was the long con. Step one: apologize. Step two: get you on the back of his bike. Step three: kiss you in the elevator? Then what? 

Who would he send over to kick you out in the morning? Some other neighbor? 

It wasn’t feasible, these thoughts. They couldn’t go anywhere. It almost made it worse—that they just had to stay in your head. Trapped. Because acting on them, well, it was a fucking horrible idea. And he was probably just playing with you, anyway. That’s what he did. 

“I remember,” you grumbled. 

“Do you remember Hongjoong?” she asked, and you could see the way she smiled reflected in the mirror. Pointed, obvious in the point she was conveying. 

You picked up a lip gloss and ran the wand over your lips. “I didn’t cancel the date, did I?” you said. “I’m wearing a cute outfit. I’m going.” 

Jihyo smiled. “Okay. Good.” 

“You know, you can be really judgmental,” you said, a hint of a laugh escaping between words. 

“That’s why you love me.” She smiled big and wide. “Now have fun tonight. That’s an order. And try to get laid, for the love of god.”

You were standing in front of your door, a little bit tipsy, trying to unlock it, when the one down the hall popped open. You couldn’t help the groan that fell from your lips, knowing just who was going to appear in front of you in no time at all. 

He took his time. You had to give him that. He leaned against the door frame to his own apartment for a little while, watching you struggle. Which was annoying in its own way—but at least it was from a distance. 

The distance didn’t last. He got closer. 

You held up a hand in his direction. “No,” you said. You weren’t drunk enough that your words were slurring, just tipsy enough to say exactly what was on your mind. A dangerous thing, considering what was on your mind lately regarding the man in the hallway. “You stay over there.”

Thankfully, you got the key to work, letting the door to your apartment swing inward. Yunho was faster, though, and more determined. He caught it with one hand before it could slam closed. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, and those weren’t the words you expected to come out of his mouth. They weren’t suggestive or annoying. He actually seemed genuine. Had you ever met a more confusing man? One who could flip back and forth between strange softness and playful humor faster than you could process it? 

He wore black jeans, the same leather jacket he basically lived in. His near-black hair fell just past his eyebrows, only partially obscuring brown eyes that met your gaze. There was a slight crease between his brows, like he was just as confused as you were about the state of his personality—about the way he was acting toward you. 

“Yes,” you said. Yunho closed the door gently behind him. “And you can’t just invite yourself into my apartment whenever you want.” 

“Date didn’t go well, I take it?” he asked, that playful tone coming back at half power. The smirk that appeared put in a lot of work. 

You pressed your lips into a tight line, gritting your teeth. You couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks as you grew embarrassed. Any normal person wouldn’t have commented on the fact that you’d come home alone after a third date—especially after your friends announced so loudly your desire to get laid. 

“Can we not do this right now?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as if to cover some of your obvious discomfort. 

“You know,” he said, taking another step closer to you. You didn’t move. Of course you didn’t. You wanted him closer, even if you wanted to pretend otherwise. And ultimately, your body beat out your mind the moment he intruded upon your personal space. “The offer still stands.” 

Your brain wasn’t working. “What offer?” you bit out. 

He didn’t touch you, but his hands might as well have been all over your body with how hot you felt. “You know—if you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be with someone.” 

It was enough to make you take a much-needed step back, sobering you some. “Oh my god, get a grip, Yunho.” 

He just laughed. It wasn’t a big deal to him. It was just another joke, another way to get under your skin. 

You steeled yourself for the lie you needed to speak aloud, to really get the point across. “I don’t want you. I’ll never want you. I like my men with a little more… dignity.” 

For a split second, you were certain you’d hurt his feelings. His eyes softened, and his shoulders lowered. But then he was back to smiling again, acting like it hadn’t affected him in the slightest. 

When had this turned from him asking you if you were okay to him propositioning you again? And why had you wanted to say yes? If it weren’t for the voice of Jihyo playing in the back of your head, reminding you that he was an asshole—over and over again—you might have let it happen. You were feeling just dejected enough, anyway. 

Hongjoong had basically rejected you. It was rightful, too, since you’d barely paid attention to him during your date. Your mind had been on other things. Other people. And besides, there’d been no spark. He didn’t push your buttons. He didn’t make you laugh. 

“Really, though,” Yunho said, taking a more serious tone again—enough to give you whiplash. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you said. 

“You don’t seem fine,” Yunho said. 

“If I needed a friend, I’d call Jihyo. Or Wooyoung.” 

Again, that look of hurt. Like he’d been struck. 

“Right,” he said. “Obviously.” He took a step away from you, toward the door. “Sorry.” You were too stunned to speak. “I’ll see you later.”

When you woke up the next morning, there was no woman to escort out of Yunho’s apartment. Your apartment sat empty. Quiet. It continued like that for several days. Nearly a week. You let Jihyo and Wooyoung talk you out of going over there, of making sure everything was okay with him. That he hadn’t died or moved out or something. 

No matter what excuses you made up, however, you still couldn’t get him out of your head. Even when he wasn’t around to bother you. You found yourself hoping to catch him around a corner, in the elevator, or by his bike in the parking garage. You didn’t. 

He was strangely absent. 

That should have resulted in better sleep, but you found yourself awake for other reasons, staring at the ceiling. You could find any reason to doubt yourself. Maybe you’d been too quick to judge him. The way his face had fallen the last time you spoke haunted you. Eyes open or closed, you could still see the ghost of his disappointment. The soft tenor of his voice and the way he sounded so genuine. 

Convincing yourself that it was a fluke did not help. 

And somehow, you always ended up back in that elevator, his lips hot on yours. 

Yunho was hot. Of course, he was. You had never questioned that fact. You had explicitly tried to ignore it. But he wasn’t your type. He liked to push your buttons, get under your skin. He didn’t respect basic boundaries. 

Now, he was gone. The firm boundary you’d put in place was being respected, and you found yourself being the one who wanted to cross it. 

Maybe that was growth. Or maybe it was all a part of Yunho’s grand scheme to get in your pants. If you thought about it for too long, you could believe anything. It was the only the long con, a way of getting to you by disappearing when you were finally interested—or, it was the first genuine thing he’d ever done. 

And it made you feel bad. 

Something shot through your nervous system, a realization that you didn’t want to make eye contact. You missed him.

It was nearly a week later when you spotted his door clicking shut just as you were leaving to run a few errands. 

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to you. But after all the times he’d barged in uninvited, you figure it was okay to intrude on his space just once. Walking the short distance from your door to his, however, did cause a strange anxiety to settle in next to your heart, tucked away in your ribcage. A thrumming that whispered, “What are you doing? Why are you doing it?” over and over again. 

It didn’t stop you from raising your hand to tap your knuckles against the door. 

When Yunho opened the door, he looked a little worse for wear. His hair was fluffier than usual, sticking up in places like he’d spent the last seven days running his hands through it. He looked you up and down. A smile appeared on his lips, but it wasn’t the same as the proud one you’d grown used to. He didn’t say anything, just watched you. 

“Hey,” you said. Attempting to be casual didn’t exactly suit you. 

“Hey?” he repeated. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Hey.” You tried to meet his gaze, but his eyes kept moving away, finding something else to look at whenever you got close. 

He had one hand on the door, holding it open. It would be easier that way, to close it whenever he needed to. Because he wanted to look at you. He wanted to meet your gaze. But there was this ball of anger in the pit of his stomach, too. A tightly wound piece of hatred. Not for you, of course. He couldn’t hate you. No. He hated himself. And he would never say it out loud, not to himself and certainly not to you—but he hated himself for being someone you didn’t want. 

But all he could do was look past your eyes and force a smile. 

Unfortunately, the hatred he felt toward himself manifested as anger. “Do you need something?” 

The sharpness in his tone sliced straight through you. “What?” 

“You made it clear you don’t want me,” he said. 

“Well—” you stammered. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

“You have Jihyo and Wooyoung, right? That’s what you said.” He paused and finally met your eyes. Something crossed his face. “Besides, I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh,” you said. The anxiety tucked away in your chest blossomed, and your heart began to race. This was a mistake, then. At least you could leave and pretend it never happened. Why then, were you so frozen solid to the spot in front of his door? Why couldn’t you just turn and walk away? Why could you feel the ghost of his lips on yours, the heat of his palms on your arms? Why couldn’t you look away? 

“You’re afraid to admit it, but I’m not,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, gentle tone once more. The one you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. The one that floated through your dreams like a melody. “I like you.” 

Your lips parted. He leaned forward to look at you on eye level, studying you. He didn’t touch you, just let his eyes bore into yours. It was far too intimate than your racing heart could take. 

“You think I’m all bad,” he said. “I’m not. Let me take you out sometime. I’ll prove it to you.” The corners of his lips turned up in a small smile. Hopeful. 

It was your own self-hatred, your own uncertainty, your own self-consciousness, your own fear, that made you say what you did. “I can’t,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said. And that’s what broke you. Not the rejection, but the acceptance. The way his smile turned firm as he stood straight up and stepped away from you, moving to close the door just as you turned to flee. 

Several days passed, but even the passage of time didn’t make you feel any better. 

“It’s good,” Jihyo said. “I don’t trust him.”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung echoed. “Me either.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, either, given how much you’d been thinking about it. About him. Even your thoughts felt selfish. Because you could have him, if you really wanted to. If you really wanted to have him, you could walk over to his apartment and tell him that. 

But something held you back. 

The fear, mostly. 

The thought that you would just end up like all the other girls he’d engaged in one-night stands with. You weren’t exactly a one-night stand kind of girl. Or, at least, you weren’t certain that was what you wanted from Yunho. You didn’t know what you wanted. Maybe that was the scariest part. 

“You didn’t see the look on his face,” you said, sinking deeper and deeper into the couch. 

It was Wooyoung who eventually said. “If you like him, I guess I don’t really see what the problem is.”

“The problem is he has a different girl over every night,” Jihyo commented. 

“Not every night. Besides, he hasn’t in a while,” you said, which earned you a look from Jihyo. “What? The walls are thin. I can hear everything.”

“Maybe he’s a changed man,” Wooyoung commented. 

“Doubt it,” Jihyo said. 

You could only shrug. “I don’t know. I hardly know him, anyway.” You let out a long, deep breath. “I’ll get over it eventually. So will he. I’m sure it’ll be fine in a few weeks. Maybe we’ll even laugh about it.”

Hours later, when Jihyo and Wooyoung finally left your apartment—you stood at the door, waiting for them to get on the elevator. An old habit. Like making sure they got home safe. The elevator doors opened, and Yunho stepped out. You only saw him at first. 

Then, you saw her. The girl hanging off his arm. Laughing. Smiling. 

Jihyo shot you a look, but you shook your head. It was fine. You didn’t need them coming to your rescue over a man you’d rejected. They got into the elevator and disappeared. You tried to close your door fast, but Yunho spotted you first. You just barely caught him raising a few fingers in a wave, a smile on his lips, before the hastily shut door separated you both. 

Something bloomed in your chest, hot and angry. You’d seen him with other women before. Countless times, in fact. You’d heard them through your walls, escorted them out afterward. And you’d never been angry at anything other than the inconvenience. 

But now the anger flushed your system of coherent thoughts. The tips of your ears turned red as you rested your forehead against the closed door. This wasn’t anger. As much as you wanted to believe it, manifest it into being so—it was so much worse. 

Jealousy. 

It made your skin crawl, the realization. You were jealous. And the worst part was that you had no right to be. He had offered you the same thing he gave all those girls, and you’d turned him down. So why now, did you have your head resting on the door and your eyes squeezed tight? Maybe it wasn’t just jealousy, but anger too. 

Anger at your own poor decision-making skills. Anger at Yunho for—what exactly? Moving on? You were the one who’d been adamant that there was absolutely nothing between you. He’d shot his shot and failed. Had you expected him to retire from the little game he played every weekend? 

You tried to remind yourself what would have happened if you’d gone out with him. That he wasn’t relationship material. That he didn’t want you like you wanted him. 

Fuck. You wanted him. 

You wanted him, and it made you feel like an idiot. 

Is that how everyone who ended up in his bed felt? Confused and annoyed, angry with his charming personality and his ability to sweep pretty much anyone off their feet without really even trying? 

And when had this happened, anyway? He’d moved in a few months ago. You’d been tolerating his presence since—and then things just, well, shifted. 

It didn’t even matter if you ended up as just another one-night stand—you wanted to be in his bed, underneath him, no matter what the outcome was. It was that thought that pulled you away from the door and sent you into the bedroom, diving under the covers and attempting to think about anything other than what was possibly going on in the next room over. 

Damn his stupid motorcycle and the way his shirt, damp with rain and sweat, had stuck to his skin. Damn his stupid, charming smile that shifted between snarky and kind. Damn his everything, every detail that made you look twice, that had you second-guessing every moment, every interaction. 

It was even worse, knowing that he wanted you, too. Knowing that he wanted you, and that you could have just had him, if you weren’t such an idiot. 

And so you oscillated back and forth like that for a while—between being annoyed at yourself for rejecting him and at him for being so charming and so untrustworthy at the same time. 

It went on like that for some time before you eventually fell asleep to thoughts of walking down the hall and throwing the door open, to grabbing him and kissing him—before your mind eventually decided being awake no longer served you. 

Unfortunately, when morning came, it wasn’t with a new, refreshed mind. 

Instead, more thoughts swarmed, and before you could stop and think about what you were doing, you were standing in the hallway outside Yunho’s apartment in your pajamas. 

It wasn’t until you raised your hand to knock that you realized exactly where you were. 

Yunho must have sensed it. The door swung open, and there he was, standing there with that somewhat charming, somewhat obnoxious smile on his face, looking at you like this—whatever you were doing—was, in fact, completely normal behavior. 

He looked just out of bed, messy hair and plaid pajama pants. A white shirt that clung to him and a loose robe overtop. One hand held a mug of coffee, and he leaned against the door frame in such a casual manner as you glanced him over, trying to figure out some excuse for why you’d shown up at his door. 

“Good morning,” he said. There was a coldness to his voice. Something absent from his tone that you didn’t want to linger on. Like he was distancing himself from you. 

Words failed you. 

“I—” you started. You took a step forward, nearly into his body. He didn’t yield against you, instead holding firm in the door frame. You tried to look over his shoulder to see if the girl was still present. Did he not want your help escorting her out?

The smile that fell on his lips was slow, and you watched him figure you out in record time. 

“Looking for someone?” he asked, that cold tone growing warmer, charm seeping back into his words, that familiar enjoyment. A cat playing with a mouse. 

You took a step back. “No.” 

“Seems like you are.” 

“I’m not,” you said, but you weren’t able to keep the defensive note from your voice. It was so painstakingly clear to both of you why you were there and what you were looking for. It became a game, then, of who would concede the space first. Who would give up. You could easily admit your lie, but there was no pride in that. And Yunho, well, he could just as easily call you out on it, but that didn’t seem like the path he wanted to take, either. 

Instead, it turned into a standoff of words loaded into guns and backs turned. Paces counted before firing. Eye contact, before your gaze dropped to his lips, and the slow smile crawling across turned into a smirk of victory undeserved. 

“I just thought you might want my help,” you said, cocking your head back and crossing your arms. A feeble attempt to gain some ground. 

“I don’t,” he said. Sharp. You hated that the simple words cut, even though you would have claimed to hate said help only a week prior. 

“You don’t,” you repeated. 

Your cursed brain. He’d found someone else. Someone else to break the streak of one-night stand girls. He’d found someone else, and it was too late, and you’d ruined everything out of pure indecisiveness and misguided advice. 

Maybe he wasn’t even such a bad guy. 

Maybe your vision had been clouded by jealousy from the very beginning. 

Yunho stepped away from the door, walking deeper into the apartment. You hesitated. He brought down another mug and filled it, pushing it in your direction and eying you to take it. 

“You know,” he said. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.” 

Your brows drew together as you watched him, sipping his coffee and looking over the cup at you, still standing in the hallway. 

“I’m not—” you started, but he just laughed. “I’m really not.” 

“Then why are you here?” he asked, the genuine nature of his voice catching you off guard. “You already rejected me, remember?” 

Your feet carried you into his apartment. You closed the door behind you. 

“I remember,” you said. You stopped across from him and reached over to pick up the mug of coffee, the kitchen island separating you. You looked over your shoulder, eyes wandering toward the open door of his bedroom. 

“You’re funny,” he said. 

“What?” you asked, eyes snapping back to him. 

“There’s no one here,” Yunho said. He set his coffee mug down on the counter and walked closer to you. “And whatever you’re trying to do—you’re not very good at it.”

He reached up and took the coffee mug out of your hands, placing it on the counter next to his. 

“There’s no one here,” you said, repeating his words back to him for the second time. It was easier than finding new ones to say. 

He rolled his eyes, but the annoyance didn’t reach his lips. No, those still held that same pleased smile, like he knew something you didn’t. 

Yunho reached out, closing the distance between you, to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. He looked down at you with a gaze you couldn’t place. Something between admiration and lust. His fingers trailed down your jaw and hooked under your chin. 

His touch froze you. You could only blink and watch, your gaze darting between his mouth and his eyes. 

“Are you jealous?” he asked, holding your chin and looking at you carefully. 

“I don’t know,” you said, because that was the truth. All the thoughts in your mind were jumbled, and nothing made sense when it came to him. 

He raised one brow, skeptical. “Did you need to borrow something?” he asked. “Or yell at me because the TV was too loud?” 

“No,” you said. 

“Then why did you come over?” he asked. He led you toward the answer, walked you there while holding your chin and making sure you kept your eyes trained on his. His voice was gentle, but stern—and you knew he wouldn’t relent until you gave him the truth. 

You sighed, and this small act of giving up only made the corners of his lips turn up. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” you said. His lips parted in shock. Because he’d been expecting an admission regarding your jealousy, not the way that he raced through your mind all night. But you kept going, anyway. “And I didn’t mean to come over, I mean—I guess I did. But I left my apartment, and then here I was—and I wasn’t even going to knock, but you opened the door, and then all I could think about was whether or not you had a girl over.” 

His hand slipped from your chin to lay flat against the side of your head, his palm on your cheek and his fingers dipping into your hair. 

Your heart raced faster as his eyes dropped to your lips, and your first kiss played on a loop over and over again until you were stepping closer to him, lifting a hand to touch the one on your cheek. 

He inched closer too, until your bodies were almost touching. 

Yunho’s eyes met yours, then flicked downward. Up and back. Your eyes followed the same pattern, and you moved closer, closer, a centimeter at a time, until his lips were on yours again and everything agonizingly slow kicked into full speed. 

His other hand came up to cup your other cheek as he kissed you slowly. It wasn’t the abrupt, intense heat of the kiss you shared in the elevator, but a soft, molten kiss that sent your nerves firing. 

When he pulled away, it was only a half an inch, barely enough to keep you from recapturing his lips and stopping whatever sentence whirred to life behind hazy eyes. “That’s what I wanted our first kiss to be like,” he said. 

“I liked our first kiss,” you said, without really thinking. 

He dropped his forehead against yours. “Me too.” 

“I liked the second too.” But you didn’t let yourself reach out again, not with the last thought that nagged at the back of your mind. “What about the girl—your date last night?” 

“She didn’t stay long. I couldn’t stop thinking about my neighbor.” He put a half-step’s worth of space between you. 

“How annoying,” you said, laughing under your breath. 

“Yeah, she really is,” he teased. “Kinda hot, though.” 

“Kinda?” you asked, raising a brow at him. 

“Okay, insanely,” Yunho said, crossing his arms over his chest. “So hot she’s driven me mad since the day I moved in. Is that what you want to hear?” 

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. “Yes.” 

“Now will you let me take you out?” he asked. 

You hadn’t thought about what would happen after you stormed over to his apartment without invitation, nor what would happen after his lips were on yours. You thought he would try something more, but he kept his distance—asked about dates instead. 

“You look shocked,” he said. 

“I’m not,” you said, and he chuckled under his breath. Apparently, you were easier to read than you thought, or maybe he was just good at knowing what you were thinking. Somehow, that wasn’t as annoying as it used to be. 

“Not jealous, not shocked…” he trailed off. “Not very good at lying, either.” 

“I just didn’t think dating was really your thing,” you said. 

He placed a hand to his heart in mock hurt. “You wound me,” he said. “I’m a romantic at heart, you’ll see.”

“Oh, will I?” you asked, “From what I’ve heard, it doesn’t sound like romance.” You tilted your head to the side, looking up at him, watching for the reaction. 

His brows lifted a hair. “You’ve been listening.” 

“The walls are thin, Yunho.” 

“And that’s why you’re jealous?” he asked, reaching out to poke your cheek. “Because of what you’ve been hearing?” 

“No,” you stammered, a crinkle developing between your brows in irritation. 

“I can’t figure you out,” he said. “You think I’m this big player, right? But you’re also up at night with your ear to the wall trying to listen in so—I think you might be the real freak, here.” 

You slapped his arm playfully. “I am not.” 

“We’ll see,” he said, continuing before you could get a word in, “Let me take you out tonight.”

“I’m working,” you said. 

“Tomorrow night.”

You pretended to ponder the availability of your schedule. Since your minor situationship with Hongjoong fizzled out, you hadn’t had plans with anyone but Jihyo and Wooyoung. And they wouldn’t mind a night off from having to listen to your problems. Maybe you’d get an earful from Jihyo about how you were choosing to spend the night, instead, but Wooyoung would come around. 

“Tomorrow night,” you confirmed. 

It was strange how quickly everything turned over in your mind. Maybe you were naive, but one kiss and you’d started to see him differently. That voice that nagged in the back of your mind, reminding you that maybe he was like this with all the girls he brought back, had disappeared completely. Instead, you found ways to justify it all. There was nothing wrong with sleeping around, anyway. 

You’d had more active times in your life, too. And no one had judged you for that, well, experimentation. 

He watched the cogs turn behind your eyes. “What are you thinking?” he asked. 

“Just trying to figure you out, is all.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, rethinking whatever it was he wanted to say. It seemed like you were both playing the same game—trying to understand the other without giving too much away, without making a big deal out of something that hadn’t gone anywhere, yet. 

“So,” you said. A blanket of silence suddenly fell between you, the awkward air of the kiss settling on your shoulders, and the future plans made. 

“So,” Yunho said, much cooler, calmer, than you had. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “Definitely.” 

You took a step back, but he reached out to grab your hand before you could get too far. He held it, not too tight, but not exactly with a gentle grasp, either. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “Really.” 

Heat rose to your cheeks. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Me too,” before disappearing from his apartment. By the time you were back home, your palms were sweating. 

Was this a horrible idea? And if it was, why did you want it so badly?

The next 36 hours went by at an unimaginably slow pace. In that time, you managed to spend a good several more hours overthinking, at least thirty minutes on the phone with Jihyo, convincing her that this was, maybe, a good idea, actually, and the rest of the time panicking about your ability to make decisions regarding your love life. 

“It doesn’t have to be anything,” Jihyo said at the end of the call, after retiring her role as devil’s advocate. “It was just a kiss, right? And it’s just a date.” 

“Maybe I want it to be something,” you said. “That’s what scares me. What if he doesn’t?” 

You could hear her shrug over the line. “Guess you’ll have to ask him.”

Wooyoung chimed in from over Jihyo’s shoulder. “Besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen, anyway? You find out if the sex is good, and then he stops showing up at your apartment without permission?” 

You pinched your nose between your thumb and forefinger. “Neither of you are helpful,” you said. 

Hours after the call, however, you couldn’t help but admit that Wooyoung’s words were true. This was a sexual attraction. Yunho was sexy. He had a confusing charm to him that you never understood, and a contagious smile. He was goofy, good at video games, and fun to bicker with—but you didn’t really know him, did you? 

So you decided that’s what the date would be for. 

You’d get to know him. Decide exactly what you wanted. And if that was just sex, well. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, right? Maybe fucking him would get him out of your head, too. Though, you had a feeling that probably wouldn’t be the case. 

By the time eight o’clock rolled around, you were standing in your bedroom, looking in the floor-length mirror, still attempting to determine exactly which outfit was right for the date. 

You’d never been this nervous for a date before. 

It was just a date. Yunho was just a man. 

The knock at the door, however, sent your heart into your stomach—so maybe you were just lying to yourself. Either way, it wasn’t working. 

You smoothed your hands down the front of your shirt, over the sides of your skirt. Was there time to change? He was on the other side of the door, and still, you didn’t feel exactly right. Almost like you were wearing a costume, something to impress him, but not something that was really you. 

The nerves were getting to you, and all you had to do was just open the door. 

Open the door, and he would be there, staring back at you. You knew exactly what he would look like, too. Leather jacket, permanent smirk curling up the corners of his lips, knowing brown eyes scanning you. It was a comfort, almost, this knowing. 

But still, you were frozen. 

Like opening the door was some kind of test of your own nature. He was the same, steady. Predictable. But you? Was he on the other side of the door, telling himself the same thing, that you were there—familiar?

What if he didn’t like this version of you? The one who had spent hours trying to figure out how to look just right, for him. The one wearing a skirt, the one who was excited about the date, who had gotten her hopes up. 

What if he had only ever liked you because you didn’t like him?

You rubbed your temples, trying to quiet the ever-existing anxiety that stirred behind your eyes, a reminder that this was something you fucking cared about, which only made the whole thing worse. You cared, which meant you could screw it up. You could screw it up, and it would hurt. 

“You gonna open the door?” Yunho asked from the hall. He had this weird ability to read your mind, to sense when you were nearby. Like he knew some part of you that even you couldn’t see. 

You opened the door halfway through an eye roll. 

And there he was. 

He looked nothing like you’d imagined in your head. His leather jacket was missing, replaced by a black suit jacket with a white button-up underneath, a skinny black tie cut down the middle. Though you could barely see his torso behind the bouquet of flowers he held in one arm. 

Yunho’s eyes stayed glued to yours. They didn’t wander, as yours did. But that slow smile did crawl across his lips as you took him in, this different version of him. 

“Are those for me?” you asked, looking at the arrangement of tulips and baby’s breath. 

He took a step closer to you, dropping his free hand around your shoulders to place a kiss atop your head, into your hair. It was immediately overwhelming, being in his presence again, especially after so many hours of trying to pretend that he had no effect on you. 

Well, there that effect was. The way your heart immediately beat faster, your nervous system racing into high alert, goosebumps rising on your forearms. You would think that something was truly wrong, the way your body reacted. Like this was something to run away from. But coupled with the feeling of ignition—the warmth of him being close started a fire somewhere deep within you—there was no chance you would run away. 

“Do you have a vase I can put these in?” he said, answering your arguably dumb question as he took a step away from you. 

You moved out of the way, letting him step into your apartment. A place familiar to him. Some place he’d basically broken into over and over again. He moved through it like it belonged to him, walking into the kitchen to grab a vase from under the sink. He filled it with water and placed the bouquet inside, leaving it on the counter. 

“You seem nervous,” he commented as he trimmed away the plastic wrapping with a pair of scissors he’d also known the location of. 

Your arms were crossed over your chest, not in disappointment or contempt, but because you had to hold onto something to steady yourself. Your fingers dug into your biceps only slightly, but he must have caught that, too. 

Or maybe he was just so used to the inner workings of your mind, your body, that he could sense these differences too. 

You had no idea he paid so much attention. 

“I’m not,” you said. But even a stranger would have known you were lying. 

He peeled away the rest of the crinkling plastic and put it in the trash, snipping the rubber band on the bouquet and letting the flowers fall outward. 

“They’re pretty,” you said, as if that could distract from your nerves and his commentary on them. “Thank you.” 

You kept your distance from him, standing just outside the kitchen while he worked. But once finished, he strode toward you again. He stopped just short, not opting to reach for you, just looking. 

“You’re welcome,” he said. “You sure you’re okay?” 

You cleared your throat as you nodded. “Mhm.” 

He could only chuckle under his breath. You were standing so straight, holding yourself so tightly. He did reach out, then, peeling one of your hands away from your arm to hold it. He laced his fingers between yours. 

Yunho’s hands were large and warm, and they didn’t serve to ground you any. 

Oh god. What was happening to you? 

You tried to remind yourself of everything you’d said earlier. This was just a date. Yunho was just a man. A really, really fucking hot man. And a man who drove you absolutely insane. A man who knew how to kiss. 

“You ready to go?” he asked, eyes flicked downward, watching your joined hands. He couldnt’t believe it either—was just better at keeping his cool—that this was actually happening. That you’d agreed to it. 

“Yes,” you said, and the pair of you walked out of your apartment together. He made eyes at you in the elevator. 

Were you both thinking about the same thing? The upward quirk of his smile was enough to make you think yes. 

“You are nervous,” Yunho commented as the doors to the lobby slid open. 

“Shut up,” you said. “I’m not.”

He held his free hand up in defense. “Not a very nice way to talk to your date.”

You shot a glare in his direction, but it wasn’t very threatening when paired with the smile gracing your lips. 

He squeezed your hand. “Why?” 

“Why, what?” you asked. 

“Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous,” you said again, but this time the pointed look was from him. And frankly, it was deserved. “Shut up,” you said again, as the two of you stepped outside. “I’m not nervous, you’re nervous.”

“I’m a little nervous,” he said. 

He kept your hand in his as you walked. He didn’t tell you where you were going, and you didn’t ask. 

“What?” you asked. “The Jeong Yunho, nervous? Haven’t you done this like a million times?”

“Yeah, but never with you,” he said, which only made heat rise to your cheeks. 

You were still not used to this version of Yunho. The charming one. The complement to the snarky asshole who’s been appearing in your apartment for the past several months. 

“Where are you taking me, anyway?” you asked, diverting the conversation from compliments that made your skin turn pink. 

“We’re almost there,” he said. 

There were so many other questions flying through your head, but it was so much harder to form words around him, now. It was easier before, when all those words were full of frustration and anger, when you were making fun of him or reacting to his torment. When he was being kind to you, it only left you speechless and on uneven footing. 

Thankfully, he was right. In only a few minutes of walking, you arrived at a small Italian bistro. A place you’d seen a hundred times on walks home from work, but never stopped into. It wasn’t exactly a bartender’s salary kind of place, unless you wanted to blow an entire month’s food budget on delicious gnocchi. Which, honestly, you’d thought about plenty of times before. 

Booths lined the walls with tables in the center, spread out and quiet, each with its own warm candlelight in the middle, its own dangling chandelier in the center. The tables were preset with wine glasses and cutlery. 

He gave his name at the host stand, and the two of you followed her to a table. Yunho’s hand settled on your lower back as you walked. 

Only the thin layer of your shirt stopped the electricity from knocking you out, dulling it to a mild spark instead. You slid into a booth opposite him. 

The host rattled off some wine specials. 

“Whatever you suggest,” Yunho said, smiling warmly at the woman. 

She disappeared momentarily, then returned with a bottle of red wine with a name you didn’t know how to pronounce. She filled up your glasses, then left the bottle behind. 

“So,” Yunho said, picking up his glass to look at you over it. “I should have said this already, but you look really nice tonight.”

“Don’t,” you said, a knee-jerk reaction to his complimenting. “I mean—”

“You know this is a date, right?” he teased. “You agreed to go on a date with me.”

You laughed under your breath, covering your mouth with your hand. “Sorry,” you said, trying not to laugh. “Still trying to get used to you being like this.”

“Like what?” he asked, one brow raised. 

“Oh, come on. You know like what,” you fired back. You lifted your glass of wine too and took a small sip. It was delicious. Deep and dry. 

He set his wine glass down and leaned slightly forward with both elbows on the table, trying to get closer to you. He tilted his head to the side, watching you curiously. “I don’t,” he said. 

“All charming and nice,” you said. 

“I think I’ve always been charming and nice,” Yunho said. 

You shake your head, taking another sip of your wine to hide the fact that the smile won’t fade from your lips—that being around him made you smile, now. “That’s not true, and you know it, Yunho.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Please,” you said. “You can’t pretend that for the last several months you haven’t been trying to get on my last nerve.”

He pursed his lips like he was really, actually taking the time to think about it. “Maybe I just like getting you all hot and bothered,” he said, finally. 

“Wasn’t hot,” you said. “Just bothered.”

“And now?” Yunho asked, leaning even further over the table, as if making direct eye contact would allow him to glean every secret you ever had. 

“Still just bothered, I think,” you teased, lifting your glass to your lips. 

Yunho leaned back in his seat, picking up his own glass and smiling smugly to himself. “I do like a challenge.”

When the waitress came over to ask about starting courses, you were still looking at one another, like you were both trying to place exactly what was going on, exactly what all of it meant. Yunho looked at you like he was trying to read your mind, trying to figure out what you thought about him, and you looked at him like you were trying to piece together a complex puzzle, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. 

It was Yunho who broke eye contact first, who glanced over at the waitress, who ordered a few starters for the table. 

When she walked away, you were still looking at him, watching. Studying, almost. Like you could glean something in the way he talked to others, in whether he chose bruschetta or burrata. 

“So,” he said, lowering his empty glass back to the table. 

“So,” you mirrored. 

It occurred to you then that you knew almost nothing about him, aside from the fact that he liked video games and coffee. Aside from what his mouth felt like against yours. 

You engaged in tense, short, small talk for a little while, until the food came out. How work had been for you, what he’d been up to with his time. Trying to get to know each other even a little bit more. It all came back to pointed glances and tension—both of you guarded against something. Not each other, really, but refusing to let the other in. 

Yunho didn’t give much away about himself, only continued asking about you. And you could only tease him in response. Keeping him at a distance by pushing back, instead. 

As the wine levels lowered, so did your defenses. 

“Is this how it usually goes for you?” you asked, finishing off your second glass of wine while you waited for his answer. He didn’t speak immediately, so you clarified. “Like, on all your dates, is this usually how things go?”

“I don’t know where you got this idea that I go on tons of dates,” he said. 

It only served to stun you. Because—where else would you have gotten that information, aside from the obvious? By living next door. By kicking out said dates the next morning. 

“I mean—” you started. 

“Your impression of me,” he said. “It’s wrong. You think I’m this ladies man, right?” He laughed like he couldn’t even say the words with a straight face. “I’m really not.”

“Oh, please,” you said, because you knew that to be false. You’d met the women. Spoken with them. 

He chuckled under his breath. “Just because they were at my house didn’t mean I went out on dates with them. You know that, right? That you don’t have to go on a date with someone to get into bed with them?” He raised a brow in such a suggestive way that you choked on your saliva. 

“I know that,” you said. Even though it didn’t really occur to you that he wasn’t actually dating anyone. 

“This is the first date I’ve been on in over a year,” he said, offering up something about himself completely unprompted. “So I don’t know how it’s going, really. My date seems a little tense. A little nervous, even though she doesn’t want to admit it.”

“You haven’t been on a date in over a year?” you asked, lingering on the details. “But you’re so—” you started, then realized you had no idea how to finish the sentence. What? Active? 

“Let’s just get this conversation over with,” Yunho said, a bit of tension appearing in the crease between his brows. He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to draw attention to it. But you were so obviously curious, and it was so easy to do anything when it was what you wanted. 

“No,” you said, holding a hand up. “It’s okay, really. I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “It makes sense why you did. The women I’ve been with, they knew what I was looking for. I didn’t trick them or make them think I was looking for a relationship when I wasn’t. We met at bars or clubs or on dating apps. I didn’t date any of them.” 

“Okay,” you said. 

“So, I guess I’m kind of rusty,” he said. “When it comes to stuff like this.”

You laughed. “You’re not rusty at all,” you said. “You’re charming. You’ve always been charming.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Like, annoyingly so.” 

He looked down at the table, but not before you caught the slight blush appearing on his cheeks. Had you actually made Yunho blush?

“I think that makes you the experienced dater in the situation, then,” Yunho said. 

This, too, made you laugh. Because if there was anything you didn’t have experience with, it was dating. All of your dates had ended—with a fizzle and certainly without a bang. Your track record over the past year or two was mostly boring. Boring men who didn’t make you laugh. Boring men who you couldn’t bicker playfully with. Men who wanted more from you than you had to give. Or not enough. 

“I don’t know about that,” you said. Then, “Maybe we’re both losers.”

A bright smile crossed his lips. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”

The rest of the dinner went by without as much tension. You learned a few little bits of information about one another. Where he grew up. What you studied in school. What your favorite drink to make at work was. 

“Do you like it?” he asked, refilling your wine when a new bottle appeared at the table seemingly out of nowhere. “Your job?” 

You shrugged. “Most of the time, yes.” You took a small sip. “I like the people. The regulars are mostly cool. And I get this glimpse into people’s lives that I don’t think I could get anywhere else. I only get to see what they want to show me. What they tell me about their day, or whatever baggage they bring to the counter. I like that.”

“Is what they say about bartenders really true?” he asked. “Do people tell you their life stories, their secrets?”

“Sometimes,” you said. “Depends on the person, and how many drinks they’ve had. Most people keep to themselves, but I have a few regulars who like to talk.”

“You’re kind of fascinating, you know that?” he asked. 

“What?” you said, exhaling a short laugh. 

“When I moved in down the hall, you were headed out somewhere with Wooyoung and Jihyo—”

You interrupted him. “No, that’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Why?” he asked. “I like this story.”

You put your hands over your face like you could hide from it, from your own actions several months ago. 

“You walked right over to me and introduced yourself. I thought that was pretty cool.” 

Really? Because you had recounted that interaction several times in the hours afterward, convinced that you had made a complete ass out of yourself, convinced that you were the lamest person in the entire world. 

“Do you remember what you said to me?” he asked. 

“No,” you said. Even though you obviously did. Even though you knew exactly the words you’d said. 

Yunho smiled. “That I could come over any time if I needed something. That you were excited to have a cool, new neighbor.”

You hid your face behind your hands again. “God, that’s so lame.” 

“I thought it was cute.”

“You did not,” you said. 

He took a sip of his wine, eyes not leaving yours as he did. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you were certain that this embarrassment was going to kill you. 

“And then you came over whenever you wanted for the rest of forever,” you said. “Just to bother me.”

He laughed again. “I came over because I thought you were cute.”

“I thought you were just trying to get away from the girls in your apartment.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Because they weren’t you.”

You rolled your eyes at him because it was such a line. So something he would say to get what he wanted, to make a girl blush, or make them want him. It was probably something he said to those girls in the bar, to get them to come home with him. Not that he probably had to say much of anything at all. His appearance could do most of the talking. 

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he said. “I’m being honest here.”

“You are not,” you said. 

His eyebrows raised at your blatant dismissal. “Just because you don’t want to believe me doesn’t make it untrue.”

“Yunho, be serious.”

“I am being serious,” he said. “None of those girls meant anything to me. They knew it. I knew it.”

“How charming,” you said. 

“Are you going to keep judging me for this, or can we move on?” he asked, straight-faced, just as blatant as your words. It must have been the alcohol, making you both so free to talk about what you were really thinking. 

“I’m not judging you for sleeping around. I don’t care about your sex life, Yunho. I really don’t,” you said. “You just can’t expect me to believe that you were thinking about me the whole time. I mean, we didn’t even know each other.”

“I know you wake up at ten on weekdays and eleven on weekends. I know you record more reality TV than any sane person probably should. I know that you like coffee and you hate tea. I know you make a really good old-fashioned. I know you like people. I know you’re kind, but you don’t take people’s shit.”

It was all true. 

“And I know I think about you when you aren’t around. I know that I’m not good enough for you even on my best days.” 

“That’s not true,” you said. “You’re good.”

“Is that why you rejected me?” he asked. 

“No,” you said. “I rejected you because I wanted more than I thought you wanted to give me.”

Something lit up behind his eyes when he smiled. 

The rest of the date went on without incident. You returned to small talk. To easier conversation. To more teasing and taunting. 

When you finally left, both wine drunk and happy, it was with intertwined hands. 

“So nice of you to walk me home,” you joked. 

“Well, I am quite the gentleman,” Yunho said. 

You laughed under your breath. 

“Your place or mine?” you asked as you stepped into the lobby and pressed the button to call the elevator down. 

He looked shocked by this. Like he hadn’t been thinking about it all night, what taking you back to his place would be like. Okay, so maybe he had, but that didn’t mean he was going to act on those feelings. No, he wanted to do this right. 

He didn’t respond fast enough, and it felt like a rejection. 

You played it off. “I just want to make you a drink, Yunho. Don’t be weird,” you said. Even though that wasn’t exactly what you meant. Maybe it meant what he thought it meant. That you were looking for more. 

“Your place, then,” he said, trying to keep the smile off his lips with little success. 

The elevator doors slipped open, and you both stepped inside. 

That same tension returned again. The we-kissed-here tension. 

You were both looking at each other. Wine drunk and smiling. You used your intertwined hands to pull him toward you. He took one confident stride closer. When the doors slid open at your floor, his hands were reaching up to touch your arms, that same darkened look in his eyes. The part of his lips, the way his eyes roamed your face, up and down, unable to stop in any one location. He wanted to kiss you. 

But he remained that step away, instead letting his knuckles glide along your skin. 

You reached out for him, like that first night. Your hands found his lapels as the elevator doors slid closed. You didn’t tug him closer, but just held them. 

He leaned down slowly, eyes shifting between your lips and your mouth. Your lips parted, too, and he captured them like it was an invitation. 

Kissing him felt just as insane every single time you’d done it. There was the urgency and the fear of the first night, the pretending. And days ago, there had only been tenderness in his investigation. This kiss fell somewhere in the middle. 

You could taste the wine on his lips as they moved slowly against yours. He tried to savor every bit of you. But as soon as it was really getting started, he was pulling away, cutting it off. 

Then, his hand intertwined with yours again. He hit a button to make the elevator doors open again, and he led you down the hall, toward your place. 

You wanted to reach for him again, wanted to drag him down for another kiss. But his expression looked like steel. He didn’t look at you, but instead forward at the door while you dug around for your keys. Even when you tried to steal a glance, he didn’t meet it. 

But he let you lead him into your apartment, and once you were inside, he removed his jacket, placing it on the back of one of your chairs. You went to the kitchen, and he followed you, wrapping his arms low around your waist so he could rest his chin on your shoulder. 

It was so domestic that it made your teeth hurt like you were sucking on a sweet candy. 

“What do you like to drink?” you asked. “Do you actually like an old-fashioned, or were you just trying to piss me off?” 

He chuckled in your ear, low and melodic, his breath curling against the shell of your ear. “I like them.”

“But are they your favorite?” you asked. 

“I don’t know if I have a favorite,” he said. 

“Everyone has a favorite,” you said.

“What’s yours?” he asked. “That’s what I want.”

You weren’t going to be able to make anyone anything if he kept holding onto you like that, kept whispering in your ear. 

“I like, um,” you started. “Mai tais. Rum-based drinks in general.” 

“Rum sounds good,” he said. 

You took a step forward, and his arms fell away from you. You collected a few things from the counter, moving them over to the place next to the sink. Yunho stayed close, watching you work as you sliced and juiced a lime. He watched as you filled a shaker with ice and added the ingredients. He watched you shake it, then strain the contents over ice in a lowball glass. He watched as you carefully placed a few cherries atop the drink next to a lime wheel. 

“Wait,” you said. “Finishing touch.” You dug around in a drawer and found a tiny umbrella, which you dropped into the drink for him, before picking it up and handing it to him. 

He took a tentative sip, then smiled. “Damn, that’s good.” 

“Kind of my specialty,” you said, already starting the process over for yours. 

Eventually, the two of you migrated to the couch. You took a seat on the ground, your back to the legs of the couch, your drink on the table adjacent to you. Yunho sat behind you, on the couch itself. 

You already had a controller in your hands, and it didn’t take long before Yunho wandered to the other side of the room to pick up another one. 

While you scrolled through your available games, he said, “Trying to figure out which game you want to lose at?” 

You shook your head, not looking back at him. “Cocky,” you commented. “I think you’ll find I’m better than you think.”

“I play on your account,” he said, which really meant I’ve seen your statistics. 

“Okay, so I’m bad at the games you like to play,” you said. 

He slipped onto the ground next to you. 

“I was thinking something collaborative.” 

You pulled up Overcooked and watched as he rolled his sleeves up. 

“It’s that serious?” you asked, teasingly. 

He laughed. “It’s incredibly serious.” 

You both finished your drinks and played into the middle of the night, yelling at each other about vegetables and recipes. 

It was nearly three in the morning when your eyes started to get heavy, when your head started to hurt, the hangover starting. You leaned your head against his shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. Neither of you moved for a long time. At some point, his hand came up to stroke long lines into your hair. And when you did, finally, fall asleep like that, he scooped you up and carried you to bed. 

He peeled back the covers and deposited you there, pulling them back up around your body afterward. He pressed a kiss into your hair and disappeared.

When you woke up the next morning, it was to an empty apartment. When you wandered into the living room, there were no empty mai tai glasses to be found, no dishes from your late-night cocktail crafting. Everything was clean and put away. 

You had no choice but to call Jihyo. 

When she answered, it was not with a hello but with the immediate, important questions. “Oh my god, how was it?”

You kicked your feet up on the coffee table, leaned back with arms crossed over your chest, thinking. 

“You’re up later than usual—does that mean it went really well?” Jihyo asked. 

What was this feeling developing in the center of your chest? It couldn’t possibly be disappointment, right? There was nothing wrong with the date. He’d been a perfect gentleman. He’d paid for the meal, walked you home, let you yell at him into the wee hours of the night. He’d even tucked you in and washed your dishes. 

But he’d hardly kissed you. 

“It was… good,” you said. 

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It wasn’t bad,” you said hastily. “It was really good. It just—I just, I guess I can’t even tell if he really even likes me or not.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. 

You shrugged, even though Jihyo couldn’t see it. “We kissed again, but that was it—and he didn’t even seem like, eager to continue.”

“That’s… weird,” was Jihyo’s analysis of the evening. You filled her in on the rest of the fine details. The restaurant, the banter, the moments of tension. “Maybe he’s just being careful?” she suggested. “Like he doesn’t want you to think he just wants you for one thing.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Maybe.”

Jihyo laughed. “So what you’re saying is that it was a really good date, but you’re annoyed he didn’t put out?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you said. 

“Kind of sounds like what you’re saying.”

“I’m hanging up now,” you said. 

And you did. 

It wasn’t long before you heard from Yunho again. Before another date was scheduled. Before you were calling Jihyo afterward again to recount the same news. The lack of news. And then it happened again. You were beginning to think the worst, that he didn’t want you. When he pulled away from another kiss on the night of your fourth date, two weeks into whatever it was the two of you were doing together, you threw your hands out in exasperation. 

“Is there something wrong with me?” you asked. 

He folded his arms over his chest. “Hm?” he asked. Then, what you said must have registered with him. “What do you mean?” He might have teased you if you hadn’t sounded so serious. 

You chewed on your bottom lip for a long time, trying to work up the nerve to say the words you really wanted to say. 

“I mean,” you started, but the words died on your tongue. 

He had to know. 

There was no way he didn’t. 

He lifted his hand to your face, curled two fingers under your chin, and lifted, making you hold his gaze. His eyes were sharp, brown, drowning in blown-out pupils. 

“Do you even still like me?” you asked, getting the words out. They weren’t exactly the right words, but the right words made your stomach turn. Even these ones made your heart beat faster, made your fingers twitch. Because it felt so stupid to be asking. Obviously, he liked you. 

And he laughed. 

Because, of course, he laughed. 

It was a stupid fucking question. 

“Of course, I like you,” he said, still holding your chin, still looking at you. Something knowing crossed his features, then, and you wished he would just confirm your worries without you having to actually speak them aloud. 

“Then why don’t you want me?” you asked, voice small and timid. 

His hand moved to the side of your face, his fingers dipping into your hair, holding you. “You think that I don’t want you?” he asked. 

“I mean, it’s the only reasonable explanation,” you stammered, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

“It’s not reasonable,” Yunho said. 

Then, he dropped his hand from your face, slipping his palm into yours instead. He tugged you toward his door, away from your apartment—where he was previously dropping you off for the evening. You don’t even remember what his excuse had been. Something about having to work in the morning. 

You let him lead you down the hall, toward his apartment. You would have followed him anywhere. He didn’t speak, just walked with you trailing behind. The short distance felt so much longer when you had to cross it without knowing what was on his mind. 

As soon as you were inside, the door closed behind you, and he had you pressed against it, the cold metal interior, the doorknob just to the side of your hip. He didn’t kiss you. Just held you caged between his arms, elbows next to your shoulder, forearms resting against the door next to your head. 

You cleared your throat. Breathing felt like an impossibility, like all of the air had been sucked fully and totally out of the room, with his face so close to yours, his eyes studying every movement you made. 

“What were you saying?” you asked, voice just above a whisper. “About it being unreasonable?”

He ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of his cheek, and it was so much hotter than it had any reason to be. 

How high did he keep the heat in his apartment? Why did it feel like you were absolutely drenched in sweat? Your hands were clammy, your fingers tense at your side. You didn’t touch him, even though you wanted to. You weren’t afraid of being rejected. You knew that wasn’t what this was, exactly. But you were too curious to move. 

Curious about what he would do—what he wanted. 

Yunho shifted his weight, pressing against the door with one arm, in order to lean slightly back, to run the pads of his pointer and middle finger along your jawline. Your eyes stayed locked on his, watching him as he followed the movement of his hand. They flicked back to you, dark and deep. He cleared his throat, parted his soft, almost heart-shaped lips, to speak. 

“I was trying,” he started, voice still gravely despite his attempt at clearing it. “To be a gentleman.” 

Your lips formed into an oh, and you swallowed thick, trying to gather the confidence to say the next thing. To make the words known. “You don’t have to be.”

His fingers stilled on your jaw, and his dark brown eyes—overflowing with want—caught yours. You tried to keep your gaze neutral, but you could tell by the way he was looking at you that it wasn’t a success. 

One corner of his lips quirked up first, just before the smirk drew across his face. Brows slightly raised, eyes inquisitive. 

He was still so close to you, leaning in just an inch away from your lips. You could have closed the distance if you wanted to, but there was something appealing about this game the two of you had started playing the moment the door to his apartment closed. Like it was something tangible between the two of you that could be grabbed at any moment, but you both tiptoed around it, careful and curious. 

Yunho’s hand fell to your neck, his knuckles dragged downward, skittering over your pulse and making your heart beat faster. 

“So jumpy,” he said. “How long have you been thinking about this?” he asked. “About saying something?” 

Your lips parted, but the confidence in your brain didn’t meet the confidence of the real-life situation, couldn’t face the way he was looking at you. Words died on your tongue, and he looked at you like he could see the entire process. Your struggling only made his smirk more proud. 

“Really interesting,” he said, voice still low and gravely, but soft—too. A tool he used for inspection. “I was trying to be a gentleman for you, and you were thinking about—what?” he asked. 

Your breath caught in your throat as he lowered his lips to the edge of your ear. You tried to collect your thoughts, tried to figure out how to navigate this new situation. This was the Yunho you were more familiar with. The one who poked and prodded at you. Who teased you in the living room, who was downright difficult. 

It was the gentlemanly version of him that you’d been unfamiliar with, that you didn’t know quite how to handle. 

“Oh, now she’s quiet,” he commented. “You had so much to say not even five minutes ago.”

“Five minutes ago, you didn’t have me pressed up against a wall,” you said, trying to steady your voice into something that sounded any semblance of calm, even if you didn’t feel it. 

He slipped his hand into your hair at the base of your neck. “How long have you been thinking about it?” he asked. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, tilting your head up as you ran your tongue over your lower lip. 

Yunho laughed dryly under his breath. “Is that right?” 

“That’s right,” you repeated. 

“I was going to be so nice to you, baby,” Yunho whispered, breath curling against your ear. “Was going to treat you so good, too. Now, I’m not sure you deserve it.” 

Your mouth fell open. 

“What?” he asked, pulling back to look at you, to read the shock running its way across your face. “You want to play pretend now—pretend you haven’t been thinking about it, pretend you didn’t just ask. I can play, too.” 

“I just—” you start. “You weren’t—” 

“What wasn’t I doing?” he asked, one brow quirked upward. He wanted actual, tangible answers. 

The way he spoke made everything in your brain stop working. All the lights turned off, and it was just fizzling, crackling energy left behind. Nothing that converted the thoughts into words. You were left just staring at him, mouth opening for a moment before your lips pressed together again. 

Yunho was patient. He didn’t speak. Just kept his hand laced through your hair, kept that same look leveled on you. It didn’t help, but it certainly didn’t hurt, either. 

“Let’s recap,” he said after a moment. “You asked me why I don’t want you. Which, I’m not sure where you got that idea, but that’s not important. And I asked you how long you’ve been thinking about this. And what was it that you said?” he asked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

A small smile crept across your lips in delight at the way he spoke, the way his words got faster the more irritated he got with trying to figure you out. It was nice to be the one to get under his skin for once. 

He shook his head in disbelief, but you could see the hint of a smile on his lips, too. He was enjoying this just as much as you were, this back and forth. 

“I don’t,” you said, a proud smile on your lips now. “Know what you’re talking about.”

He exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh. 

“You know if you keep playing innocent, you’re not going to get what you want. What we both know you want,” he said. 

You pressed your lips into a pout. He couldn’t resist. He removed his hand from your hair and touched the center of your lower lip with the pad of his thumb, dragging gently downward. “You don’t have to pout,” he said. “Just tell me how long you’ve been thinking about it—and don’t lie.”

Speaking didn’t appeal to you. Instead, you parted your lips around his thumb and leaned just slightly forward so the pad landed flat atop your tongue. 

He did it again, ran the tip of his tongue along the inside of his cheek in an attempt to mask his frustration. He hummed, a disapproving sound laced with something else. Like he enjoyed it, but didn’t want to indulge. 

“That’s not going to work on me, beautiful,” he said, pulling his thumb slowly out of your mouth. He dropped his hand to the space right below your neck, holding it ever-so-gently. He leaned in slowly, so his lips were only a fraction from yours. 

Your body reacted before you could stop it, leaning slightly forward to try to capture his lips. He pulled back, holding you firm against the door with one hand. “Ah, ah,” he said. 

“You don’t want to kiss me, Yunho?” you asked, pouting. “I mean, I kind of got that impression on our dates, but I thought maybe I was wrong.” 

He ran his tongue over his gums, just under his lower lip, and you could tell you were driving him insane, too. 

But you kept going. “If you don’t really want me, I could just go home,” you said. 

“Never said that,” he said. He took one of your hands, hanging useless at your side, and placed it atop the taut material and the hard length underneath it, lowering his lips to your ear again to whisper, “I want you, but not before you tell me what I want to hear.” 

He didn’t hold your hand to him, but yours lingered, regardless. You moved your palm against him, and he worked hard to keep his expression neutral, to not break immediately underneath your touch. After a few moments, he pulled your hand away, holding it tight in his. 

“Come on, baby,” he said. “How long?” The tip of his nose ran along the shell of your ear, and you shuddered under the sensation. Goosebumps rose on your forearms, and the heat of the apartment had only increased. “How long were you thinking about this while I was focused on treating you right, being a gentleman?” 

He kissed the hinge of your jaw. “I just want to know how long it took,” he said, pressing another kiss lower, along your jawline. “Was it the first date?” he asked. “Or the second?” Another kiss, this time at the top of your neck. You angled your head away from him, giving him better access. He didn’t comment, but you could feel the pride tug at the corner of his lips. “You must have been really frustrated to ask.” He dragged his teeth downward, then bit gently. “Were you frustrated?” 

All the bravado disappeared, and you were left, mouth open, victim to his ministrations, trying to figure out exactly how you could argue against this idea that you had been thinking about him like this nonstop for the past two weeks. 

You could no longer find a good reason to continue frustrating him. 

“The night you drove me home,” you said, your voice just above a whisper, like it was embarrassing to admit. His smile grew against your skin in an instant. 

“Mmm,” he hummed against your skin. “The kiss in the elevator really did it for you?” 

“No,” you said, like it was an instinct to shut him down. 

He only chuckled into the crook of your neck. 

“Is this what I have to look forward to?” he asked. “You being a brat?” 

“No,” you said, cocky smile across your face. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he said, exasperation seeping into his words, seconds before his lips were on yours. You were all talk. The moment his lips touched yours, you came alive against him. It was a taste of what you wanted, and you immediately didn’t want it to end. You pushed away from the door, letting your arms fall over his shoulders as you pressed your body into his. His hands fell to your waist, then slid around to your back, holding you against him. 

Yeah, sure. Maybe you were impatient. Maybe you’d been thinking about this for weeks. Maybe you didn’t want him to know just how much you’d been thinking about it, how much your body absolutely craved his. But when your hands dropped to the buttons of his shirt, he didn’t complain. He didn’t make you stop to recite the answers to any questions. 

He just smiled against your lips, proud, like he’d won something. 

Your fingers grazed his bare skin as you worked further down. He deepened the kiss, angling forward as he tilted your head back, slipping his tongue between your lips. Yunho’s fingers dug into the cloth covering your hips, and your fingers stalled on his shirt. You reached for his skin instead, wanting to touch anything you could. You put one hand flat on his chest, but he was quick to loop a hand around your wrist and pull it away. 

“Hey,” you mumbled into his lips. 

He gave no response, only laced his fingers through the hand he’d stolen and pinned it back against the door as he continued to kiss you, running his tongue along yours. 

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he said, breaking apart from your mouth, breaths ragged, forehead touching yours. “At anytime,” he said. 

You nodded, but remained silent. Hoping for the continuation of whatever he was doing, his lips on your again, his hands exploring your body. Any of it. You didn’t care. You’d take what he was willing to give. You might even say thank you.

He kissed you again, dragging your lower lip into his mouth as his fingers inched toward the hem of your shirt. One hand snuck underneath it. His knuckles grazed your bare stomach, and you jumped. He smiled into the kiss, and you rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. 

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked, muttering the words against you between kisses. “I’m barely touching you.”

“I’m fine,” you hissed. His lips found the column of your neck again, however, and you began to question the declaration. 

He chuckled again, letting the sound reverberate through you as his fingers climbed further up your abdomen. 

Your head lolled backward, resting against the door behind you, the rest of your body arched forward into him. 

“You give up on the shirt?” he asked, eyes glancing between the two of you, to the few buttons holding his shirt together. 

“No,” you said. 

His hand still held one of yours pinned to the door. You reached between your bodies with your free one and worked on the button. It kept slipping free from your fingers at the same time as your soft moans. He bit your pulse point, sucking your skin into his mouth gently at first and then harder. Your lids fluttered closed, and the fabric fell out of your hand again. 

“Come on,” he said. 

His other hand slipped under your bra, cupping your breast. You almost had the last button done when his thumb ran over your nipple. “Yunho,” you hissed in annoyance. 

“Want me to stop?” he asked, lifting his lips from your neck just enough to catch your gaze, his thumb still moving back and forth across your nipple inconsistently, making it impossible to get used to. 

“It would be easier,” you said. “If I could use my other hand.” 

“Huh,” he said. “That’s too bad.” Then, he dropped his lips to your neck again, kissing lower, grazing them along the length of your collarbone. 

You finally did get the last button, then used your one free hand to attempt to push the fabric back off his shoulders. You tugged against his hand, trying to free yourself from the grip. He held firm, didn’t even so much as budge. But he felt your attempt, and that had him grinning. 

“Need help?” he asked. 

“Nope,” you said. You had most of his chest revealed, and that was good enough for you. You reached out for it, running just the tips of your fingers down the center. He didn’t stop you this time, letting you explore him. 

He released your hand then, only for his own benefit, to grab the hem of your shirt with both hands and lift it up and over your head. 

You stood apart for a second, looking at one another. His eyes fell to your chest, your cleavage. His tongue flicked out to wet his lower lip. You were too busy getting the rest of his shirt off to notice the way he looked at you. 

The break only lasted a moment, but it might as well have been an eternity of not touching one another. Of studying what was before you and wanting it. You both seized forward at the same time, your lips colliding as hands roamed over bodies. Yours found his shoulders, slid down his arms over his biceps, then back up. His went to your waist, around to your back. One fiddled with the strap of your bra before unhooking it in a swift motion. 

He didn’t break the kiss, just took a half-step back as he pulled the straps off your shoulders and down. Once your bra was on the floor in the growing pile of clothes next to you, he pulled away again to look at you. His lips were on your skin again in no time, working downward as his hand moved upward. He rolled one nipple between thumb and forefinger as he kissed a circle around the other. 

Your body tensed under his ministrations, and you were certain this man was going to be the absolute death of you with his knowing looks and his slow touches. Heat started in your stomach and dripped dangerously low at every caress. But you tried to keep your cool, tried to handle it. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being putty in his hands. 

Yunho hummed a sound of happiness as he sucked, flicking your nipple with his tongue. Your hands threaded into his hair. 

His hands fell to your pants, unbuttoning the top button. “Take these off,” he said, and you finished the job, stepping out of them as he kissed back upward, taking his time. His fingers teased at the waistband of your underwear. 

You sucked in a breath, hot and sharp between your teeth. The door pressed cold lines into your back, and Yunho’s fingertips continued to flutter atop the band, teasing. The heat of the moment and the cold of the metal did not grant you equilibrium but only contributed to the building feeling of overstimulation that you know he would absolutely revel in if he could read your mind. 

Maybe he could read your mind, because he smirked against your skin for at least the tenth time in so many minutes, and you were starting to think he knew every nasty thought you’d ever had. 

It was a stalemate, because you knew that he wanted you restless. He wanted you begging. But you didn’t want to voice another word, another request, didn’t want to do what he told you to do. Unfortunately, you also really wanted him to slip his fingers lower. 

He watched you, too, like he knew you were making this calculation. 

He placed his hand across your stomach as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. “Just say it,” he whispered. “I know you want to.”

He lifted your chin with his fingers as he pulled back, meeting your eyes. His eyes were dark and heavy, full of clear desire. The word no died on your tongue. 

But neither did he wait for you to ask. He held your eye contact as he moved his hand between your thighs, humming as he ran the pads of his fingers along your clothed slit. “Nice and wet for me, hm?” 

He pushed your underwear to the side, dragged his middle finger through your folds, and then slipped it inside of you to the knuckle. 

“See, I can be nice,” he said.

You choked on a gasp and tried to let your head fall back against the door, but he held your chin firm, keeping his eyes on you. He moved his finger slowly as you adjusted. His eyes traced your expression, the subtle part of your lips, the way your eyes rolled slightly backward. And you studied his, too. The hooded gaze as he watched you, the way his smirk got cockier every time you reacted to the movement. 

There was no escaping his careful eye. He caught every soundless gasp, every subtle movement.  

He liked you like this, falling apart and trying to keep yourself together at the same time. Not wanting to give in to him, but wanting everything he had to give. He liked teasing it out of you, that desire. 

Your lids fluttered closed as he stroked just the right spot, curling his finger to meet it. 

“Eyes open,” he said. His voice was firm, but not sharp. Commanding in a gentle kind of way. 

It didn’t make you want to listen. 

“Or what?” you challenged, eyes still closed. 

“Or I’ll stop,” he said. And he did. 

Your eyes flew open, and he couldn’t help the breathy laugh that fell off his lips. 

“You’re trying so hard, baby, but your body keeps giving you away,” Yunho said, a hair away from your lips, before he kissed you. 

He slipped another finger inside of you at the same time, and your body arched forward, your hands reaching for something to hold onto and finding his shoulders with ease. You groaned into his mouth, both at the feeling and his words. 

“God,” you moaned, breaking away from his lips to catch your breath. He didn’t go far, instead dropping his lips to your neck, biting and sucking at your skin until you felt like you were melting. You rolled your hips against his hand, wanting more, and he gave it without a word. His thumb ran over your clit, sending a shudder through your body. “Yunho, oh my god,” you muttered, hands digging into his shoulders. 

It was all too much. His teeth on your neck, his fingers moving fast inside you, curling, and his thumb running circles over your clit at a pace that made everything ache. 

“That feel good, baby?” he asked, voice gravely, breath hot on your neck. 

He didn’t slow his pace, so you could barely voice the words you wanted to say. All that came out was a breathy, “Don’t stop.”

And he was smirking again, running his tongue over your pulse before whispering, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Your hips kept rolling into his fingers, but he managed to keep the dizzing pressure on your clit as you squirmed. He took a step into you, pressing you up against the door again. One of his legs snuck between yours, and he used his upper thigh to hold you in place. 

He had you on the edge, about to teeter over, every muscle in your body so tense you were almost shaking. 

Then, he did exactly what he said he wouldn’t. He stopped. He dragged his fingers out of you slow, removed his thumb from your clit, and met your eyes. He struggled to keep your gaze, his eyes falling to your heaving chest as you tried to catch your breath. 

You groaned and tried to let your head fall back against the door, but he caught it, holding you forward by the neck. 

“Aw, you don’t like being teased, baby?” he asked, looking down his nose at you. 

You whimpered, moving your hips against his thigh in search of something. He only pinned you harder, keeping you from moving at all. 

He lifted his hand, slick with you, and tapped your lower lip. “Open,” he said. 

Your lips fell open, and he placed both of his fingers on the flat of your tongue. You closed your lips around them. He pressed down on your tongue, and you licked from the base of his finger to the tip without breaking the very direct eye contact he made with you. 

“Look at that,” he said. “You can follow directions.” 

You rolled your eyes and bit down gently on his fingers. He hooked his fingertips just behind your teeth and pulled you forward. 

“Mm,” he hummed. “I think I like you like this—unable to talk back.”

You ran your tongue over his fingers again, tried to move your hips again, chasing anything that would give you any kind of satisfaction now that fire danced over every inch of your skin, where he touched you and where he didn’t. 

He pulled his fingers from your mouth slowly as you licked them clean. He replaced his fingers with his tongue, lips crashing into yours—hungrier than before. The entire length of his body pressed up against you, anchoring you in place. You could hardly move between him and the wall, except to reach for him, to grip his arms tight in a grounding kind of way. 

He took a step away from you, dragging his lips from yours like it was the hardest decision he’d ever made. Then, he was grabbing your hand, pulling you deeper into his apartment, past the kitchen, through the living room, toward his bedroom. 

You’d been here before, seen these places before. You’d stalked through his apartment, looking for your fake boyfriend in order to drive off the women he’d slept with, you’d sat on his couch post-date, talking into the late hours of the night. 

The place seemed different now. His bedroom a completely new world. You’d only seen it in the aftermath, or with another woman sprawled out across it, waiting for his return. It was pristine now, the bed made with crisp sheets and a comfortable atop it. Pillows stacked in front of the headboard.

He guided you toward the edge of the bed, and you sat while he towered over you, hands lowering to his belt. You watched with rapt attention, tongue running between your lips. He undid his belt buckle, then the top button of his pants. He worked slowly—slower because he could tell you were watching, waiting. 

Yunho let his pants fall to his ankles. He stepped out of them, and your hands shot out, touching his abdomen but trailing downward for more. You were so interested, so needy. You’d never wanted anyone as much as you wanted him, right then. 

He slipped his hands over yours, and you rolled your eyes before he could open his mouth. 

“Ask for it,” he said, looking down at you. That same smirk playing on his lips. You should have known that being with him would be like this, with all the teasing he did outside the bedroom. All the playful glances he always shot in your direction, all the comments he made. It just never occurred to you that he would be so, well, annoying. 

Why was it so hot, then? If you were so annoyed, why did his words always make that same heat pool between your legs, always make you want him even more? And why did it drive you absolutely insane anytime he asked you anything? 

You pressed your lips into a tight line, determined to be stubborn about this. 

“You don’t have to touch me,” he said. “But if you want to—I’m going to need to hear you ask.” 

He held your hands tight in his to prevent them from going anywhere. 

“You’re—”

“What, baby?” he asked, still looking down at you, not touching you anywhere other than your hands. He cocked his head to the side. “What am I?” 

“Bossy,” you said. “And kind of a pain in the ass.” 

He laughed, a full, deep one that shook his chest. “You want me to stop?” he asked, lifting one hand to tilt your chin upward. “I could be nice to you, instead. Really nice.” 

You hesitated. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said. 

“Shut up,” you said, pushing against his abdomen with your intertwined hands. You grumbled under your breath. You batted your eyelashes at him. “I’d really like to touch you, Yunho. Could I, please?” 

He smirked. “Now, I don’t think you really mean that.”

“Oh, should I get on my knees?” you said, that same expression on your face—fluttering eyelashes, like you’d do anything he wanted if he really wanted it. 

“Only if you want to, beautiful,” he said. He freed your other hand, too. 

You hooked your fingers into the band of his boxers and pulled them down, tongue flicking out to wet your lips as you slid off the edge of the bed and onto your knees in front of him. He watched, silently, one hand coming up to gather your hair away from your face. 

One of your hands lifted to wrap around him. He was big, you had to admit. And you couldn’t keep the look off your face. Like you were drunk on want. Like he was all you could possibly think about. 

You leaned forward, flattened your tongue against the underside of the tip, eyes flicking up to meet his as you did, watching for a reaction. He didn’t hold back as you did, but let you watch as his lips parted. His hand tightened in your hair, and you gasped as you took him into your mouth—shallow at first, as you got used to the size. 

Slowly, you took him deeper. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re so good.” 

He rolled his hips once, slow, as he held the back of your head. 

“That okay?” he asked, his voice dropping to one much more gentle than how he’d been speaking to you. 

You nodded as best you could with your mouth wrapped around his cock. 

Another slow roll of his hips, and he was reaching your throat. You dropped your hands from him and looked up. You stopped moving, letting him take control instead. He held the back of your head firm and rolled his hips again and again, a little harder each time. 

Each time he hit the back of your throat, your eyes stung. His grip in your hair tightened, and you moaned around him, which only made him thrust into your mouth faster—harder. 

Tears stung in the corners of your eyes, but neither of you stopped. 

“God,” Yunho hissed again, hips bucking, snapping forward into you one more time before he pulled out fast. 

“Get up,” he said, and you stood—no attitude needed. 

He wiped the tears from under your eyes, the drool from your mouth, then spun you around and pressed you down, into the mattress. He reached into the drawer next to his bed, ripped open a condom with his teeth, and rolled it on, keeping one hand on your lower back. 

He guided the tip of his cock to your entrance and dragged it through your folds. “Still so wet, and I wasn’t even touching you,” he said. 

You couldn’t get a single word out. Your face was buried in the bedspread. He pushed just the tip inside of you, and every muscle in your legs went taut, seizing up. 

“Relax, baby,” Yunho said, moving forward another inch, reveling in the stretch, the feeling of tightness as you clamped down hard around him. Your hands were already balled into the fabric next to you, your teeth already biting down hard on your bottom lip to keep from whimpering. You pushed back against him, trying to get more. 

His hands came up to hold your hips, preventing you from moving. He slid forward another inch, slowly, enough to make you ache. 

“Please,” you begged, needing all of him way faster than he was willing to give it. 

You could practically hear the smirk appear behind you as he rolled his hips forward into you, filling you up. 

A jagged gasp escaped your lips. You could feel him pulsing inside of you, twitching, betraying his resolve. But he didn’t move. He kept one hand on your hip, then ran the other down your spine, making you shiver. 

“Yunho,” you whimpered. 

“Something you want, hm?” he asked, voice low and dark, like he was holding back from what he wanted, too, just to break you down even further. 

You gritted your teeth. “Yes,” you said, forcing the word out. 

He traced lazy circles on your back. “Tell me.” 

“Yunho,” you moaned again, trying to move your hips against them again. 

He stilled them once more. “I want to hear you say it.” 

“Say what?” you teased—only punishing yourself. 

He shifted only slightly, enough to remind you what you wanted. He grabbed your shoulder, pulled you back against him, pushing his cock even deeper into you, making you gasp into the blankets. “Tell me what you want from me.” 

“God, Yunho,” you muttered, thighs starting to shake. “I want you,” you said. “I don’t know—I want you, I just want you.” 

He laughed dryly under his breath and rewarded you with a slow roll of his hips. “Not specific enough,” he said. 

You groaned again, exasperated and desperate. 

“I don’t—” you started, another slow, agonizing thrust. “I don’t—” 

“You know,” he said. “You just don’t want to say it.”

He pulled out of you slow, then snapped his hips forward, taking you to new levels of desperation. 

“You’re—” you stumbled over your words. “You’re being so mean.”

He stilled again, giving you time to process, to think. He massaged circles into your hip with his palm. “Yeah?” he asked. 

“Yes,” you said, through gritted teeth. He started slow again, and you couldn’t help the whimpers that fell off your lips immediately, giving you away. “I want you so bad, please. Yunho, please,” you begged. 

He didn’t move. 

“What do you want me to say?” you hissed, irritated. “That I want you to fuck me until I see stars?” 

His fingers dug into your hip, and you knew you’d hit the mark. 

“Look at you, so good with your words,” he commented. 

His hips snapped forward again, deeper this time, faster. He established a rhythm. “Fuck—” you started, only to be interrupted by your own gasps. “You.” 

He slammed into you until you were stuttering, barely even able to say his name or mutter any other profanities. Your thighs were still shaking, legs tense and tight, especially as you arched into him, standing on your toes to lift your ass even higher. He put his hands on your shoulders, holding you in place before him, not letting you shift forward with every thrust—instead taking all of him with each deep stroke. 

It didn’t take long for you to start crumbling against him. He’d had you on the line for a long time, and your body could hardly take it anymore. Your thighs clenched, walls slamming down around him. 

“You wanna come, baby?” he asked, voice soft and deep, just above a whisper. You could hear the desire dripping from it, and it only made it more difficult to hold back. 

You nodded, whimpering as he kept up the pace, holding you and slamming forward again and again. He reached forward and grabbed your hair at the root, pulling you back. Your fingers tightened in the bedspread as the orgasm crashed into you, over you, through you, and you pressed yourself back against him as hard as you could, taking everything he could give as everything tightened so hard it was nearly unbearable. 

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed as you came undone, falling limp beneath him. His pace slowed into long, languid strokes before he pulled out. 

With his hands on your hips, he turned you over, and you let him. Your face was flushed, your chest hot and red, your lips swollen from earlier kisses, and your hair a mess from his hands. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said. 

You let out a shaky breath, eyes dropping to his cock, still hard. You must have read his mind, because as he crawled onto the bed toward you, you moved away, sliding up so you could rest your head atop the pillows. 

Your knees were folded up, thighs pressed together. 

He slipped a hand on the inside of your knee and pushed them open so he could crawl between, moving up your body. Your hands went to his shoulders immediately, looking for something to grab before he touched you anywhere. 

Yunho pressed a kiss to your jaw, your cheek, the side of your nose. 

“Can you take more, baby?” he asked. 

You nodded, lip between your teeth. 

“God, you’re fucking perfect, you know that?” he asked. 

You shook your head, and he laughed, dropping his lips to yours in a slow, tender kiss, such a stark difference from the previous few and their feverish nature. 

He slipped a hand between your bodies, slipping a finger inside of you quickly, in and then out, before lining himself up with your entrance again. You sucked in a breath before he even moved. In one fluid motion, he sheathed himself fully inside of you. You shared the same gasp, mangled between kisses. 

Everything felt immediately intense. Each stroke lighting a new fire. He seemed intent on wrecking you completely, because his fingers moved quickly to find your clit. He put pressure on it with two fingers, letting the movement of his thrusts provide the friction. 

He sat up and pulled your hips down on him as he slid into you over and over again. 

“Yunho, oh my god,” you said through heavy breaths, the combination of sensations making you dizzy, making it difficult to keep your eyes open. 

Your sounds only encouraged him further, and soon his own grunts joined with your moans. He rubbed your clit with his thumb, not stopping to give you a second to calm down, only taking the sensation higher and higher. You squirmed, trying to get away from him, trying to stop the overstimulation, the feeling of everything being encompassed in wet, hot fire, but he didn’t let you move an inch. 

You threw your head back against the pillow in defeat, letting your hips roll against his. He lifted one of your legs, leaning it against his shoulder as he fucked deeper and deeper into you. You had to close your eyes—and he didn’t stop you, didn’t demand your attention, just kept touching and thrusting, and holding you until it was all too much. 

“I can’t—” you started, hips stuttering as your core tightened impossibly, strangling him inside of you. He groaned as you came, and you felt him twitch inside of you at the same time as he fucked you through your second orgasm of the night, until you were lying nearly boneless beneath him. And then he was still, too, collapsing on top of you, gathering you into his arms. 

You breathed heavily together for some time. Yunho pressed soft kisses to whatever skin he could reach and smoothed your hair away from your face. 

It was a long time—intertwined just like that—before he got out of bed to clean up. As soon as he returned, it was to gather you into his arms all over again, to hold you flush against his skin, to kiss your lips soft and slow. 

“That was—” you started, even though there were no words in the known world to finish the sentence properly. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Really was.”

You nestled your face deeper into his neck, and he held you even tighter, like he was worried you were going to go somewhere. 

When he spoke again, it was quiet, just above a whisper. “I really like you, you know.” 

You peeled away from him enough to catch his eyes. There was a bit of worry in them. Your hand shot out to touch his cheek. 

“I really like you, too,” you said. 

He cleared his throat. “Haven’t really—you know, dated anyone,” he said. “In a while.”

The words hung between you for some time. 

“I want to, though. I mean, I want to keep dating you,” he said. 

You laughed under your breath. He was cute when he was flustered. “Good,” you said, touching the tip of his nose with yours before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I want that, too.” 

“Sex was that good, huh?” he teased, and you pushed his shoulder. “Kidding.”

“It was good, though,” you said, pointedly. “But that’s not the only reason. A silver lining, definitely.” 

“And what,” Lucifer asked patiently, “are you doing?”

“Interrupting you while you’re meditating.”

One amber eye cracked open. “I appreciate that you’ve stopped arguing with me.”

“I’ve learned it saves time.”

Lucifer hummed. “I suppose it does.” Seonghwa inclined his head. “The final arrangements have been completed.” Lucifer’s expression didn’t change. “The ballroom?”

“Prepared.”

“The guests?”

“Invitations accepted.”

“The musicians?”

“Waiting.”

“The kitchens?”

“Already at work.”

“Good.”

Seonghwa waited another moment before continuing. “Prince Yunho and Y/N returned approximately ten minutes ago.” Lucifer’s other eye opened. “They’re back?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

In one smooth movement, Lucifer rose to his feet. The glowing runes beneath him faded into the polished black floor as he adjusted the cuffs of his dark coat as a grin slowly spread across his face. “Come.” Seonghwa already knew where they were going. “Must we? Last time I walked into their chambers unannounced I found your daughter in law gripping your sons horn while…”

“Please stop talking.” Lucifer looked over one shoulder. “My son has just returned from his honeymoon.” Lucifer’s grin widened. “I haven’t seen him in days.”

“You’ve been scrying on him.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It should.”

“It doesn’t.”

Before Seonghwa could argue further, Lucifer had already stepped into the corridor and with a quiet sigh that suggested centuries of experience dealing with this exact sort of behavior, Seonghwa followed. The walk through the palace was surprisingly short. Royal guards stationed around the corridor outside the prince’s chambers bowed immediately, stepping aside without a word. Lucifer didn’t bother knocking. He simply pushed the massive doors open and walked inside. The chambers were warm, filled with the familiar scent of sandalwood and old books. Several travel bags rested near the entrance as Yunho stood beside the wardrobe with his back partially turned, stacking the last of their luggage neatly against the wall, looking up at the sound of the door opening. “Father.”

From somewhere deeper in the chambers came the unmistakable rush of running water. The shower. Y/N was humming softly to herself behind the closed bathroom door, completely unaware they had visitors. Lucifer simply looked at his son. Really looked at him. The first thing he noticed wasn’t the luggage. Or the faint scent of the Mediterranean sea that still clung to his clothes. It wasn’t even Y/N’s scent woven so naturally into his own that, for the first time, Lucifer could no longer tell where one ended and the other began. No. It was his face. Four hundred years. Four centuries of watching Yunho carry the weight of immortality like a chain around his neck. Four hundred years of carefully hidden loneliness. Of duty. Of restraint. Of convincing himself he was destined to outlive anyone he dared care about. That burden…. was gone. Not completely but Lucifer knew better than anyone that love came with its own fears. But the emptiness that had lived behind his son’s eyes for centuries had vanished and in its place was something quieter.

Lucifer’s smile softened before he could stop it. He had seen that look only once before. A small cottage in Korea. Wildflowers growing outside the window. A stubborn young witch laughing because she’d just thrown salt at the Devil himself. He remembered catching his own reflection in a bucket of water days later. He had worn that same expression. He hadn’t realized it then. Not until years afterward. The same impossible softness. The same quiet certainty. The same terrifying realization that someone else’s happiness had somehow become more important than his own. Lucifer looked back at his son. “Well.”

Yunho frowned. “What?”

Lucifer folded his arms. “It finally happened.” Yunho stared at his father with a brow raised. “What did?” Lucifer’s smile became almost unbearably knowing. “You’ve fallen exactly as hard as I did. A rarety for those like us.” Yunho opened his mouth. Closed it. Then glanced instinctively toward the bathroom, where the water was still running beyond the closed door as Lucifer laughed. A rich, genuine laugh that echoed through the chambers. “There it is.”

Yunho looked back at him. “What?”

“That.” Lucifer pointed directly at him. “You looked toward the bathroom before you answered me.” Yunho frowned harder. “So?”

“So,” Lucifer said, unable to stop smiling, “four hundred years ago, every time someone asked me a question…” He nodded toward the bathroom door. “I looked to wherever your mother happened to be standing before I answered.” Yunho glanced back towards the bathroom as his father’s expression softened again. “You don’t even realize you’re doing it.” Yunho simply stood there in the middle of his chambers, surrounded by half unpacked luggage, listening to the distant sound of Y/N humming to herself in the shower. And somewhere deep down, he realized his father was right.

Lucifer let the silence linger for another few seconds, studying his son with an expression that had softened into something almost impossible for anyone outside the room to witness. It wasn’t the calculating gaze of the King of Hell. It wasn’t the ancient predator who had ruled Pandemonium since before most civilizations had learned to write. It was simply a father looking at his child and quietly appreciating that, after four centuries, the loneliness he’d watched consume him had finally begun to loosen its grip. Then, inevitably, the softness disappeared beneath a grin. “Now then.” Yunho sighed. “What.”

“I have news.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

Lucifer clasped his hands behind his back, casually strolling farther into the chambers as though he owned the place. Which, technically… he did. “I’ve arranged a welcome banquet.” Yunho groaned. “You’ve arranged what?”

“A welcome banquet.”

“I heard that part.”

“It’s in Y/N’s honor.”

Yunho closed the wardrobe doors with considerably more force than necessary before slowly turning to face his father. “Father.”

“What?”

“We just got back.”

“I know.”

“Less than fifteen minutes ago.”

“I know.”

“The woman you’re throwing the banquet for is currently in the bathroom trying to wash the sand from Greece out of her hair.”

“I know.”

“And your solution to that…” Yunho gestured broadly around the room. “was to invite all of Hell over?” Lucifer looked genuinely confused. “Not all of Hell. Just the important people.” Yunho stared at him in exasperation. “That’s somehow worse.” Seonghwa, who had been quiet this entire time, remained near the doorway, wisely saying nothing Lucifer continued as though his son hadn’t spoken. “She’s the Princess of Hell now.”

“I know.”

“She’s my daughter in law.”

“I am aware.”

“The kingdom should meet her properly.”

“They’ve met her.”

“They’ve seen her.” Lucifer corrected him with a raised finger. “Those are two entirely different things.” Yunho rubbed both hands down his face. “Father…” Lucifer smiled. “Everything has already been arranged.”

“Cancel it.”

“No.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Father.”

“Son.”

Yunho exhaled sharply through his nose. “She doesn’t even know this place really yet.” His voice had lost its irritation now, replaced by something quieter. “She’s still adjusting. Not to mention how when someone bows to her and she looks behind herself because she thinks they’re greeting someone else.” Yunho’s gaze drifted unconsciously toward the bathroom door again, where the faint sound of running water still filled the chambers. “I don’t want her overwhelmed.” For the first time since entering the chambers, Lucifer’s expression grew thoughtful. He hadn’t been considering politics. Or appearances. Or royal expectations. He’d simply been excited. Excited to introduce the woman who had somehow managed to do what nothing else in four hundred years ever had. He looked at his son again. Really looked at him. Every objection Yunho had made… not one of them had been about himself. Not once had he complained about attending another royal function. Not once had he mentioned how exhausted he was after traveling. Every single concern had been for Y/N.

Lucifer smiled to himself. There it was again. Without realizing it… his son had started measuring the world by someone else’s comfort. “I can postpone it until tomorrow evening,” Lucifer said at last and Yunho blinked shocked. “Really?”