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Bloodlines entwined: X | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child.

— pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader

— genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut

— rating: 18+

— words: 15,033

— warnings: teasing, strong language, swearing, mention of crying, sexual tension, mention of sexual frustration, mention of masturbation, mention of sex, dry humping, fingering, dom!jungkook, kind of masturbation, handjob, riding, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, nipple sucking, ass slapping, childbirth (please note that it might not be really accurate, I never gave birth so i don’t really know), screaming, crying, a lot of pain, blood, and mention of breastfeeding

— author’s note: so this is it. this is the final chapter of this series 😭 i can’t believe this series is over, and it truly breaks my heart. i got so attached to this series and worked so hard on it. i’ve spent days building this universe, and the characters and thinking about everything. i can say that I feel proud with what i did considering that it’s the first time I build this kind of series, and to be honest, I never thought i’d write a werewolf au 😅 again, i’m very sorry for all the time it took me to release this part but it’s been a hell of a journey with my hand, but things are finally getting better ✨ thank you so so much for reading this chapter & series!! 🩵🩵 it meant the world to me 🩵 there will still be an epilogue after this part so we’re not entirely done with this series! 🩵

Chapter X: bloodlines entwined

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

��I have some news to give you,” you announce as your eyes scan the classroom.

The little heads of your students are turned to you, and their little eyes are shining, excited to hear your announcement.

“I’m expecting a baby!” A smile grows on your face as you say those words out loud.

You haven’t said anything before because you were scared that something might happen to you or your little baby. But now that everything seems to be going just well, you feel like it’s about time your students knew. They are still very little, and very soon, you’re going to impose a drastic change on them. They need to get mentally prepared for that change.

“Where?” one of the students asks.

“The baby is currently growing in my belly,” you push up your shirt to show your baby bump.

Their eyes widen as they see your bump. Lately, you’ve been wearing larger clothes, sometimes even Jungkook’s clothes, as you wanted to be comfortable and hide your growing belly. For sure, your boyfriend doesn’t complain because he adores watching you wearing his clothes. Obviously, before you leave the house, he checks that you wear a bra as well. That would make you roll your eyes with annoyance.

“And very soon, he will be out, ready to meet you,” you add while caressing your stomach.

“When can we meet the baby?” a little one says.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” a girl asks.

“Well, it’s a boy, and you still will have to wait a while before meeting him,” you gently explain. “He’s staying inside until June.”

“Oooh, it’s in a long time,” a little boy pouts. “It’s even after my birthday.”

“I know, but around mid-May, another teacher will replace me because I won’t be able to continue to come anymore. The baby will be too heavy inside my stomach, and I will need to prepare to welcome him.”

They all nod, but you’re sure most of them don’t even realize the weight of your words. They will probably start crying when they understand you’ll leave for a while. That only thought breaks your heart. You love these little munchkins so freaking much.

“If you want,” you continue. “You can touch my belly and feel the baby kicking,” you suggest.

It might help them to understand the situation a bit more. As they stand up to walk towards you, you sit down on the chair to be at their level. Their small hands rest on your bump, and instantly, your little wolfy starts kicking. And then, an intense warmth spreads through your body. It’s your baby boy. He feels secure and safe, and he’s definitely enjoying feeling all this love.

“I can feel him,” one of the children screams with joy.

Their excitement and joy as they feel your son warms your heart. You only wish they could sense his energy the way you do because then they’d know just how happy he is. He may not be here physically yet, but his presence already feels so real. Looking at your little munchkins, your heart is overwhelmed with joy. This will forever be a moment engraved in your heart.

After that, you continued teaching them something new, and the day flew by quickly. At the end of the day, Jungkook waited for you at the school door. He has been doing this from the very beginning, and it’s honestly the highlight of your day. No matter what’s going on in the werewolf world, he finds the time to come pick you up at work. And that, you know it’s one of the many proofs of his love for you.

“I’ve something for you,” you say once you’re both in his car.

He narrows his eyes, seeming suspicious of what might be your gift.

“What is it this time?” he asks, which makes you roll your eyes.

“By the way you’re looking at me, you’d think I always give you shitty gifts.”

“We never know with you,” he replies, lips twitching in amusement. “Could be a rock with googly eyes, could be an ancient family heirloom. There’s really no in-between.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you scoff. “I think it’s time we officially retire ‘King Jungkook’ and go with ‘Drama Queen Jungkook.’ It suits you better.”

“I’ll inform the council during the next meeting and let you know afterward which title they chose,” he ironically answers.

This man is unbelievable. He’s always in for teasing you, but you know that it’s his way of flirting with you. And, well, you only love to tease him back. It’s also your way of showing him that you love him too.

“You know what?” you retort. “Next time, you’re getting a leaf with ‘fuck you’ written on it in glitter.”

“That’s original,” he laughs. “I guess I’ll hang it in my study so everybody will know what kind of gifts my girlfriend gives me.”

You roll your eyes, but you perfectly picture him doing it. It’d be funny to see a damn leaf with ‘fuck you’ on it in his special room.

“Now, I definitely want to get you that instead of what I’ve with me,” you smile at him.

He laughs softly but leans closer, eyes curious now.

“Alright, alright. Let’s see what you’ve got, troublemaker.”

You shake your head at the nickname with the brightest smile on your face. You reach into your bag and hand him a small, wrapped object. His big hands grab your gift before unwrapping it slowly. It’s a leather journal, similar to the one he currently has.

Jungkook has always had a journal where he writes down his own thoughts. At ten, his father bought him his first journal and advised him to lay down whatever would cross his mind. At first, he thought that he didn’t need it, but when the first shifts started to be a nightmare, he started writing what he was feeling. Over time, it helped him face his emotions and the world.

Every time he reaches the final pages, he buys a new one. Once fully complete, he places it in the library of his study to keep it handy in case he needs it. Sometimes, he opens one to read what he felt on a certain day of his life. For example, he’s been loving to reread the moment he realized you were his soulmate.

It warms his heart that you notice he’s reaching the last pages of his journal. It means more than he can even express. Even though you’ve caught him writing in his journal, he never realized you’d pick up on the little details.

The leather journal fits perfectly in his hands, his initials embossed on the cover. For a moment, he’s quiet, just running his fingers across the material. It is the first one that has his initials on it, and it will forever be his favorite one. Then he opens it and sees your handwriting on the first page.

“It’s so cool when I’m on my own,” he reads out loud, voice dropping slightly, “but it’s warmer in your arms.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, but his gaze lifts to meet yours, eyes softer now. Being in his arms is now your favorite place, and it reassures you beyond comprehension when he’s near you. And when he isn’t around, the world feels so cold.

“That’s really beautiful,” he murmurs. “You wrote this?”

You nod, feeling just a bit shy, but the way he looks at you—the weight of affection and awe behind his stare—makes your chest tighten in the best way. You wanted to leave a little note in his journal to remind him that you love him. Writing ‘I love you’ seemed so cheesy and so not you. So you tried to find something, and that sentence only made sense.

“It’s stupid,” you mumble.

“No,” he says, shutting the journal gently. “It’s not. It’s you. And that makes it perfect.”

Jungkook places the journal on his lap before passionately kissing you. There isn’t a day that goes by when he doesn’t feel grateful to have your love. It hasn’t been emotionally easy since meeting you, but he has never felt as much peace as he has lately.

Jungkook has been working in his study room for the past two hours. You ignore what he’s working on in there. The silence spilling from beneath the door is almost suspicious, especially considering that he usually spends these hours on the phone with other werewolves or alphas. But tonight? Nothing.

You don’t think too much about it. You’ve got your own work to finish, after all, tomorrow’s class isn’t going to prepare itself. To stay focused, you put your headphones on, drowning yourself in calm music to avoid eavesdropping or imagining whatever Jungkook is up to. It works, but only for a moment.

Once your lesson preparation is finally done, you stretch your sore muscles and head toward the living room, which, unfortunately, is right next to his study. Now that your brain isn’t occupied anymore, the silence from behind his door becomes harder to ignore. It's like calling you, teasing your curiosity.

You scroll through all the streaming apps possible, trying to find something to watch. You land on Ghostbusters: Afterlife, but you can't focus. The movie plays in the background, but your mind is in the study with him.

It’s the full moon’s fault. It was just last night, and your senses are still heightened. You feel raw, aware of every little thing about him. It's like your body has its own will and is tremendously drawn toward him. You shift on the couch, trying to resist the pull.

But the longer the silence lasts, the more tempted you are to give in.

Inside the study, Jungkook sits at his desk, completely still except for the quiet turning of ancient pages. The books spread out before him are filled with old lore and scattered, almost-forgotten histories. Most of them are in a script so faded that it takes him a second to make out the words. But he's patient. He’s determined.

He’s been taking notes in the new leather journal you offered him earlier today, and he’s been carefully underlining passages that mention rare werewolves, those born between two packs. Even though it’s quite normal to have mixed werewolves, it’s not really common. It’s actually even rare. Usually, pack members marry within their own pack. It’s quite rare for members of two different packs to marry and have children.

Based on what he got to read and what he knows, mixed werewolves are stronger than ‘normal’ werewolves, even though they naturally choose one pack at birth. But he doesn’t find anything about their strength in the womb, which is what he’s looking for.

So, it feels like it confirms what he and his family believe: your son is different. Powerful. Maybe even something the world has never seen. And he is actually convinced that it’s because there hasn’t been somebody like him. He’s a mixed werewolf and son of a king, and a hybrid. This is all uncharted territory for him.

And he wants to understand this. Not to control it; never that. But to protect him and to be ready. Becoming a father is already significant, but becoming a father of such a special being sometimes frightens him. So, he searches for whatever he can find to help him be ready.

As he writes down another line, he pauses, his head tilting slightly. He can feel you just outside the room, trying your hardest not to barge in.

A small smirk appears on his lips.

He knows you’ve been pacing back and forth in your mind, throwing on some random movie to distract yourself, but he can still feel that post-moon pull lingering in your chest, just like it is in his. That magnetic thread between you two, tugging and stretching thin.

You want to come in.

He hasn’t moved. Part of him wants to see how long you’ll last.

Another page flips. His pen glides against the paper.

Ten minutes pass.

Then fifteen.

And then…

A soft shuffle.

He hears the sound of your bare feet on the floor, followed by the faintest creak in the hallway. You open the door, finding him in the middle of books and writing in his journal. At first, you decide to wait until he looks up, but he doesn’t. He just waits.

And then, finally.

“Are you gonna ignore me or is this your new hobby?” your voice rings out from the doorway.

“Took you longer than I expected,” he smiles without looking up.

“Were you testing me?” your eyes narrow, but you can’t quite hide the small smile appearing on your face.

“I was working,” he says innocently, then finally lifts his gaze to yours. “You were testing yourself.”

“So, what top-secret king business are you doing in here that’s more important than being with your gorgeous, pregnant girlfriend?” you walk in, arms crossed but amused.

He chuckles, patting the chair beside him. “Come here. I’ll show you.”

And when you sit down and see the open books, the mess of notes, and the carefully highlighted lines, something shifts. The smile on your face grows bigger when you realize he’s been using the journal you gifted him.

“You’re doing this for him,” you softly say, your eyes scanning the delicate handwriting.

Jungkook nods. “If he’s going to be something the world’s never seen, I want to be ready. I want to understand what he might carry. What he might become.” He pauses. “And,” he adds, voice low, “I wanted to give you a reason to come find me.”

You bump your shoulder into his, trying not to melt.

“You’re such a tease.”

“You love it,” he says before kissing your temple. “Now help me understand this strange old sentence that seems like it was written by a drunk werewolf.”

You chuckle at his words, but you gladly help him out. And for the next hour, the two of you read some more books, trying to decipher what the eldest wrote. It’s not easy at all, but thankfully, there are also more modern ones that are way clearer.

“What is this?” you ask when a sentence in an old book catches your attention.

“Oh, it’s written in the old language,” he explains.

“Old language?” you frown.

“Yep, originally, werewolves had their own language called Lunari,” he begins. “Over time, we learned the ‘human’ languages to blend in. For a long time, we still kept talking Lunari, but we slowly stopped. The royal family still learns to preserve it and to be able to read ancient books. We are the memory of the werewolves. Some of them still learn it by curiosity, but nobody really practices it anymore.”

“Wow,” this blows your mind. “So, you can speak Lunari?”

“Yep,” he nods. “But I’m pretty bad at it,” he giggles. “Mingi, on the other hand, speaks it very well.”

“Why didn’t you ever mention it?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs with a crooked smile. “I guess I didn’t think it mattered much anymore. Nobody ever asks about it, and most days, I don’t feel very ancient,” he pauses for a moment, eyes softening as they meet yours. “But maybe I should’ve told you. It’s part of who I am. Part of what our son will inherit, too.”

“It’s okay,” you say, placing your hand on his shoulder. “But now I want to learn it too,” you smile.

His smile grows bigger, and his heart warms at your words. Even though you are part of this world, of his world, it still moves him that you want to be more involved in it. Learning Lunari will surely bring you even closer to this world.

“Did your mother learn it?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “She’s never been interested in it, and for my father, it was the best excuse to get mad at her or to incite us to do silly things without her understanding anything.”

Jungkook is brought back to a couple of years ago. He was ten back then, his mother was pregnant with Mingi, and his father told him something he still remembers to this day.

“Your mom’s tired, so let’s not bother her,” his father whispered in Lunari as he got down to Jungkook’s level with a conspiratorial grin. “But if you sneak into the kitchen and bring me two pieces of cake, I promise to teach you the curse words in Lunari.”

Jungkook chuckles at the memory, his eyes bright with nostalgia. He still remembers how he discreetly waited five minutes in front of the kitchen to ensure his mom wasn’t there. And then, very very slowly, he grabbed two pieces of cake from the fridge. He then ran as fast as he could to bring them to his father, who was sitting in the same chair he’s sitting in now.

He’d do anything to relive those sweet and funny moments with his father. They were so close.

“He’d use Lunari to start little ‘missions’ with me. Mom didn’t stand a chance,” he shakes his head fondly. “It was his way of bonding. Of teaching the language without making it feel like a chore. He made it fun.”

Thinking about little ten-year-old Jungkook stealing pieces of cake for his father makes you smile.

“Well, I hope you’ll find creative ways to teach our son the language, just like your father did,” you smile at him.

“Don’t even doubt it, sunshine,” he winks at you. “Our son will master Lunari.”

“I really hope so,” you say.

Jungkook’s hands slide around your waist as you settle on his lap, his eyes gleaming with that familiar spark.

“And I’ll find creative ways with you too, sunshine,” he whispers, his voice low and velvety.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you arch a brow, already amused.

He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice dripping with teasing warmth.

“Well, Lunari’s a very physical language. There is a lot of body expression. Might need late-night lessons. Hands-on, of course.”

You let out a laugh, smacking his chest lightly. This is all bullshit. This is just Jungkook being flirtatious with you. You’re absolutely sure that this language isn’t physical at all.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he begins. “I’m just very committed to cultural preservation,” he grins, pulling you closer.

“Maybe you could already show me a thing or two,” you whisper as your fingers trace circles on his covered chest.

His hands on your waist instantly push your hoodie higher to reveal your baby bump to your boyfriend’s hungry eyes. He then tells you how ‘pregnant woman’ is said in Lunari, and it sounds beautiful. It definitely sounds like an ethereal language. How can it not be used anymore?

His fingers caress your stomach as his mouth finds yours for a heated kiss. Lunari words fall from his lips, and man, hearing him speaking in another language is hot as fuck. It’s just a massive turn-on. Why didn’t he ever talk to you about this language before?

“You’re so fucking hot when you speak Lunari,” you tell him, your eyes meeting his lusty ones.

“I’m always hot,” his tongue licks your lips.

“You’re so full of yourself, Jeon,” you clap back.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” his eyes are so damn dark that it almost makes you look away.

“Maybe you are,” you tease him.

His fingers move up to touch your heated face, the most devious smirk growing on his face.

“The heat on your face says otherwise.”

You roll your eyes, ready to leave his lap for being annoying, but his strong arms wrap around your waist, making it impossible for you to move. But it also allows you to feel his growing crotch against your leg.

“Where are you going, Jeon?” he teases you.

“I’m not a Jeon,” you hit his chest.

“Of course you are,” his voice takes a sweet turn. “You became one the second you got pregnant.”

This hot moment has suddenly taken a very heartfelt turn, making you pout. You can’t believe what he just said.

“And you’re a Y/l/n,” you tell him, your fingers ghosting over his sharp jaw.

“A proud Y/l/n,” he grins. “It’s even better than Jeon.”

“You’re incredible!” you say.

His teasing and hot face suddenly becomes very serious.

“Would you like to take my last name when we get married?” he asks.

The question catches you a bit off guard because you never really talked about marriage. It’s like you already know you’ll get married one day, so there’s no real added value to bringing up the topic. But it’s still surprising to hear him talk about it.

The answer to his question seems quite obvious. His mother took his father’s last name when they got married, so you’ll have to do the same. These past few months, you got to see firsthand how traditional the royal family is. You’re not sure you’ll have much to say here. He’s the king, you’ll be his queen. Hence, you’ll take his name.

“Well, I guess I don’t have much of a choice,” you reply with a small shrug. “You’re the king, and I’ll have to take your name, right?”

Traditionally, the queen always takes the king’s last name. Every queen before you has carried the name Jeon after marriage. It’s common in many cultures, but your mom never took your dad’s last name. People referred to her as Miss Y/l/n, but that wasn’t technically correct—not that she ever seemed to mind.

“Not sure if you know this,” Jungkook says, “but in our culture, the wife doesn’t take her husband’s last name. It’s our way of keeping a connection to our original families, even after marriage.”

You pause, surprised. It actually makes sense. Maybe that’s why your mother never changed her name either.

“My sister is still Jeon Dohee, even after marrying Namjoon, and he never expected her to change it,” Jungkook says gently. “But things are different for the king and queen. Taking the king’s last name is symbolic. It’s how you're officially recognized as the queen. It's like being crowned in name. But I’d never want to force you into it. In my heart, you're already a Jeon. The name doesn’t make that any more or less true.”

In all honesty, you never once thought about what would happen to your last name the day you get married. But now that Jungkook brings it up, it seems weird. Your mother never took your dad’s last name, even though they married before your birth. So you’re not sure of how things will go once you’re married to this man. However, if he really and deeply cares about you taking his last name, you’ll just do it.

“I’ve honestly never thought about this before,” you admit, your voice soft. “But if it matters to you, if it’s something tied to tradition, I’ll gladly take it. Carrying your last name doesn’t make me any less of a Y/l/n.”

“I might sound like a very old guy, but I’d honestly love for you to carry my last name,” his fingers tug a strand of hair behind your ear.

You offer him a sincere smile before pressing your lips to his. You rest your head on his shoulder, lips still tingling from the kiss. For a second, you silently just breathe him in. His hands soothe your back, and being here with him simply calms you.

When you started this whole insemination journey, you never pictured yourself living any of this. You thought you’d be a single mother, discussing the baby’s bedroom wall color with Lexi and Felix. Finding love was never part of the equation. Finding love was actually the last thing on your mind. But then, Jungkook appeared and flipped your world upside down.

“If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be having this kind of conversation, I would have laughed in their face.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “I started this whole journey thinking I’d be a single mother. I was ready to do it alone.”

“With Felix and Lexi, you would have never been alone,” Jungkook whispers.

“I know, but I mean that I never expected the baby’s father to ever come into the picture. I never once thought that I’d be falling for someone. Let alone a king,” you chuckle.

Jungkook hesitates between giving a sarcastic answer and being serious. But he goes for the second option.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” he begins, his voice low and warm. “I never thought I’d be falling for my son’s mom. But how couldn’t I?” Your head lifts up to meet his gaze. “Your soul is the prettiest one I've ever met. And the second our lives collided, I didn’t want to be just the father of your child; I wanted to be yours. I wanted to come into the picture. I wanted you to let me in, even if I had to fight for it.”

A smile grows on your face at his words, while your heart totally melts.

“Well, hate to break it for you, but you fought for it,” you both chuckle. “You even accepted that we took it slow when we were seconds away from making love.”

“Aaah don’t remind me of that,” he shakes his head. “I had to finish by myself in your bathroom, and I thought that I’d die before you’d even let me in life.”

You roll your eyes because he’s always exaggerating.

“What?” he exclaims. “We were fucking with damn clothes and then, you threw at my face ‘Aren’t we going too fast?’.” He tries to mimic your voice. “I definitely thought our son would be born before you decided we weren’t going too fast.”

You still feel extremely sorry for what happened that day.

“But, well, good news, you convinced me that we weren’t going too fast before our son was born.”

“Thank God,” his hands move to your stomach to stroke it. “Not sure Jungkook Junior would have survived all this time.”

You roll your eyes once more.

“You’re such a drama queen.”

“Drama queen is my middle name.”

You laugh and shake your head.

“Let’s see if it will also be our son’s middle name,” you reply.

“With me as his dad, there’s no doubt about it,” he teases you.

You wrap your arms around him. Honestly, you simply can’t wait for your baby boy. You can’t wait to hold him in your arms and love him unconditionally, just like the way you love his father.

“You’re really proud of yourself, aren’t you?” you murmur, your voice dropping as your fingers tease the edge of his collar, nails grazing just enough to make his breath hitch.

Jungkook’s eyes drag slowly over your face, then down your body. He smirks, the corner of his mouth curling like he already knows what you’re about to do.

“When you’re sitting in my lap like that, looking at me like that,” his voice is already filled with lust. “yeah, I’m damn proud.”

You shift your hips just enough to feel the way his body responds beneath you. You already feel proud of yourself for turning him on in seconds, but well, you’ve been teasing each other for a little while already.

“I thought royalty was supposed to be humble.”

He leans in, his lips ghosting your jaw, hot breath brushing your skin. Shivers run down your spine as he does so, and damn, this man has so much power over you. He could make you come right here with his fingers alone.

“I’m the king,” he growls, voice low and rough. “I take what’s mine.”

Your pulse races. “And what exactly is yours, Jungkook?”

“You,” he says without hesitation. His hands slide up your thighs, fingers slow and deliberate. “This mouth. This body. Every soft sound you make when I touch you like this,” he presses you down against him, your breath stalling.

“Careful,” you whisper, but your voice wavers. “You might start something we can’t finish.”

His teeth scrape your neck, just enough to make your skin burn and make you gasp.

“Sunshine,” he murmurs, “I thought you already knew that I finish everything that I start.”

You gasp once more when his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your fingers grip his shoulders as his mouth returns to yours, hungrier now, tongue sliding past your lips like he’s starving for you.

And maybe he is. Because the way he holds you, the way he kisses you, it's not just lust. It’s love, wild and unfiltered, carved deep into every heartbeat between your bodies.

“Do you even realize,” he mutters against your lips, “how beautiful you are like this? Carrying our son. Glowing like the goddess you are. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Tell me,” you whisper, already breathless.

But Jungkook doesn’t tell you; he shows you.

You don’t remember when the kiss deepened, only that your hands are now tangled in his hair and he’s devouring you like he needs you to breathe. His chair creaks beneath the pressure of your bodies tangled together, his hands roaming like he’s trying to memorize every curve.

“Jungkook,” you gasp as he grips your hips and rocks you against him, his mouth trailing down your throat, leaving heat in every place he touches.

“Tell me to stop,” he mutters, lips brushing the hollow of your collarbone. But the way his voice sounds, low and hoarse, says he’s hoping you won’t.

“Why would I ever want that?” you breathe, tilting your head back to give him more access.

“You drive me crazy,” he says, sliding your hoodie up slowly, savoring every part of newly revealed skin. “You walk around here looking like sin and expect me to keep my hands to myself?”

“I didn’t say that,” you whisper, guiding his hand where you need him most. “I want your hands on me.”

His fingers brush over your clothed pussy, and a moan instantly falls from your lips. God, this feels marvelous.

“Good,” he growls. “Because I don’t plan on letting go.”

He kisses you again, this time slower, deeper. His hand slips beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers tracing your skin like he’s praying to something divine.

Your back arches as his name escapes your lips in a breathless moan, and it’s that sound that breaks whatever control he had left. He pulls you closer, anchoring your body to his like he wants to burn this into his memory forever.

And he will.

Because here, in the quiet fire of his study, you’re not just his lover. You’re the storm he chooses to get lost in. Again and again.

“Take off your pants, sunshine,” he whispers against your lips.

You don’t have to be told twice. You instantly stand up, removing every single piece of clothing left on your body. Jungkook does the same, not wanting to waste any more time. When he sits back down on his chair, his hand finds his tick shaft to lazily stroke it. He looks like pure sin like that, but man, you’d be lying if you say that it’s a sin you wouldn’t like to get lost in.

“You look so hot,” you tell him.

His eyes look up at you with pure filth in them.

“Don’t even get me started on how fucking hot you look, sunshine,” he says with a deep voice.

In no time, you’re sitting on him again. You remove his hands from his dick and guide them to your core that is craving his fingers more than ever. He instantly rubs his fingers against your folds, making you moan. You bite your lower lip, trying not to make too much noise, but it’s a lost cause.

“Fuck, sunshine,” he swears. “You’re so soaked.”

Your hands wrap around his cock, pumping it at the same pace of his fingers. Your gazes are locked in each other, his mouth opened as you pleasure him.

“Don’t muffle your moans,” he practically begs. “I want to hear every sweet sound you make.”

“I don’t want the staff to hear us,” you admit, your breath hitching as his fingers work magic against your core.

A little chuckle leaves his lips before a mischievous glint appears in his eyes.

“Sunshine,” he murmurs with a smirk. “They’ve already heard us multiple times. At this point, I’d even say they take notes every time.

You gasp with surprise, your hands squeezing his dick. A strangled moan escapes his mouth.

“Jungkook!”

He just laughs and leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“What? I’m only giving them something to gossip about at dinner. ‘Did you hear yn again last night?’” He teases in a mock-serious voice. “‘Poor walls, they’re not built for royal passion.’” He continues.

One of your hands stops pleasuring him to swat at his chest, but he catches your wrist with a grin that spells trouble.

“I could always make it worse,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your jaw. “Be louder. Give them a real show.”

“Jungkook,” you warn.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then his lips move to your cheek, and then just beneath your ear. Each press of his lips is soft but promising something far less innocent. And honestly, you want him to ruin you, but you don’t want to make a lot of noise. It’s weird to imagine that the staff hears you while you’re making love with Jungkook.

“You sound like a horny teenager,” you laugh.

One of his fingers slips inside your hole, his eyes glued to your face to catch your reaction. Your mouth hangs open while you try not to moan like a savage. Your hands leave his already hard shaft to balance yourself on his shoulders.

“It’s the yn effect,” he replies, his finger thrusting into you. “I could make love to you all day long and never grow tired,” he admits. “I’ve never felt like this before. I’m so damn addicted to you. And I want everybody to know it.”

“Oh,” you moan while you shut your eyes. “Jungkook.”

“The way you moan my name,” he says while torturing you, “is the prettiest sound I've ever gotten to hear.”

Without realizing it, you start bucking your hips, a trail of moans falling from your lips. You don’t manage to hold back even if you want to. This man knows how to pleasure you with only one finger.

“That’s it, sunshine,” he whispers against your ear. “Let them know how good I make you feel.”

His cock twitches due to the sight in front of him, his glowing, and pregnant girlfriend melting under the weight of desire. How on earth did he get so lucky to have you? What did he do to deserve you?

“Jungkook,” you moan once more. “I want to come around your dick,” you confess.

A grin grows on his face before he presses a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“As you wish, my queen,” his eyes look up at you while his finger stops torturing you.

His hands hold your waist while you eagerly sit on him, his cock splitting you in half as it makes its way inside you. The sensation is overwhelming, but more than welcome. Your walls curve and mold into the shape of his massive shaft. You grip onto his shoulders as he bottoms up. He stops once he has reached your cervix to give you both some time to adjust.

However, you don’t want to wait at all, so you clench your walls around him. His eyes open wide with surprise.

“Please move,” you beg.

“You could have just said it instead of torturing me,” he says.

“What’s the fun of it if I can’t torture you?” you tease him. “You can’t be the only one doing it.”

“You drive me insane,” he starts to move, slow and deep. “And I fucking love it.” His lips whisper against your ear. “But don’t forget who always wins in the end.”

And then, your man shows you no mercy. He thrusts up into you at an erratic pace, making you both moan incredibly loudly. On top of that, your skin clapping against his is also echoing in the room. Well, there’s absolutely no doubt that the entire household staff is aware of what you’re both doing.

Your breasts bounce, and Jungkook stares at how they perfectly move. He’s totally hypnotized by the way they move. He has noticed how bigger they’ve grown over the past few days, and he’s definitely not going to complain.

“Your breasts are so big now,” he whispers before burying his face in them.

His mouth wrap around your left nipple and sucks it like there’s no tomorrow. This feels beyond overwhelming. His hard thrusts and his mouth on your nipple are too much. But you don’t care because the feeling is marvelous. It’s actually an exquisite torture, one you never want to stop.

“Blame it on the milk,” you manage to say.

“Eeeh, I’m not going to blame anything or anybody,” he admits against your nipple, his eyes looking up at you. “I’m the happiest right now.”

You chuckle, your fingers finding their way to his hair. Jungkook shows no mercy to you and fucks you hard and deep. Every thrust has you losing your breath and gasping when you inhale. You can only whine and moan, but Jungkook isn’t any better.

When you start clenching around him due to the growing wave inside you, his thrusts grow erratic. You know you’re extremely close to your orgasm, but you try to hold it back a little longer because you know that if you do it, it will taste even better when it hits you. You’ve gotten to experience it over the last times.

“Your pussy is so good,” he’s utterly consumed by lust.

His mouth leaves your nipples, and his hand slaps your ass which makes your hips buck. Honestly, you never thought you’d be into ass slapping, but man, every time he does it, you get wetter. He knows it, so he does it often.

But then, his hands hold your ass in place, and his feet plant in the floor so he can buck up, hitting your cervix so deep and hard that you’re squealing. He’s getting closer, you know it. You’re also very close.

“Shit, I’m so close,” you confess through moan.

“Yeah?” he asks. “Me too.”

Both of you are completely lost in pleasure, his thrusts now completely sloppy, while your moans are only getting louder. He slaps your ass once more, and without any warning, your orgasm hits you with an intensity you never experienced before. Fucking in a new place together with the extreme teasing must be the reason.

Jungkook follows you right after because of the way you’re pulsing on his shaft. His cock twitches before releasing his cum inside you. You wrap your arms around his neck to bring him closer while you both get down for your orgasms.

Your breathing is still shallow, your bodies still locked together, but Jungkook doesn’t move away. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, planting slow, open-mouthed kisses along your damp skin.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice still thick from the intensity.

“I love you too,” you smile, your fingers combing gently through the back of his hair.

A few moments pass like that—hearts beating together, sweat cooling on flushed skin—before he finally, gently pulls out of you. He grabs a soft towel from the drawer nearby, the one he always keeps just in case, and carefully cleans you up.

“You have a towel here?” you furrow an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he shrugs as he now cleans his dick covered with his sperm and your juices. “I have to be ready in every room.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you roll your eyes.

“It’s not my fault I can’t keep my hands to myself when I’m around you,” he admits.

He wraps his arms around you like you’re the most precious thing in the world before you press a chaste kiss on his lips. You snuggle in his embrace, eyes fluttering shut as you feel safe, warm, and utterly loved.

“We should get dressed before we get cold,” he whispers.

“I don’t want to move,” you pout.

“Me neither, sunshine, but we have to,” he says, standing up while still holding you tightly before putting you down.

Once you’re fully dressed, you head to the bedroom to fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Faster than expected, you’re in a special delivery room, pushing a baby out of your body. Jungkook is holding your hand while you scream in pain. Giving birth is quite painful, but you try to navigate your pain like the midwife told you. She’s even here, trying to help you.

Carrying and giving birth to a royal werewolf is kind of special. Werewolves don’t give birth at the hospital for many reasons. They give birth at home. However, the woman carrying the next heir gives birth in a place especially built for royal births. Apparently, it was built centuries ago on sacred werewolf ground. No heir has ever been born outside this sacred ground.

It’s a beautiful room, designed in a way that the woman could give birth in her human or wolf form. Everything in this space has been crafted with intention, from the smooth stones to the domed ceiling open to the sky, which allows the moonlight to flow in. On a night like this, under the Blood Moon, it casts a glow so red that it almost feels unreal. There’s no hospital beeping, no sterile walls. There’s just silence.

Well, except for your screams, Jungkook’s sweet and encouraging words, and the voice of the midwife who guides you through the birth. This is completely different from any birth presented on tv.

And even though you’re in pain, you find beauty in it. In this exact same room, countless queens before you stood, cried, pushed, and welcomed life. Jungkook came to life in this exact same room, which is very poetic. Every crowded werewolf king was born between these same walls.

This is where heirs are born. Where bloodlines continue. Where the old world and the new meet.

But tonight is even more special than any other night. Tonight it’s the Blood Moon. The moon is extremely red tonight, and it feels like the universe knew that the future king would be born tonight. The redness of the moon reminds you of the color of the Blood’s pack. The same pack that your son belongs to. Even the name of this type of moon alludes to the powerful pack of the royal family.

“You’re doing an amazing job, sunshine,” Jungkook whispers against your forehead.

You’re not exactly in the most glamorous position right now. First of all, you’re fully naked with your knees and hands on the floor and legs open. Anyone behind you is graced with the prettiest view in the world, but who cares? This is the position that helps you give birth to your little boy. This moment right here isn’t about being pretty, it’s about bringing a new life to the world. And all that matters is to be in a position that feels safe.

“I don’t know,” you start crying in pain.

“Hey, listen to me,” he says, his gaze locked with yours. “You’re pushing a little being from your body under a damn full moon and you’re doing it amazingly. It’s a lot of pain, I know, but you’re doing great.”

Ah yeah, the full moon. Normally, you should have already shifted, and both Jungkook and the midwife are expecting it at any moment. But so far, you’re still a human, and it seems like you’re not about to shift at all. You can feel it in your bones. Apparently, it doesn’t matter if you’re in labor. If it’s the full moon, you shift and give birth in your wolf form. It has happened to a lot of women.

The most surprising part, as well, is the fact that you’re not shifting under this type of moon. The Blood Moon is more powerful than any other moon, making it harder to shift. Even some Alphas struggle. Not Jungkook, though. This man definitely masters everything, which doesn’t surprise you at all.

“You can do it,” he smiles at you. “I believe in you, sunshine.”

Even though Jungkook doesn’t really feel the excruciating pain you’re experiencing right now, he’s trying to help you. This is a physical pain, one that he can’t comprehend as he’s not a woman, and because the bond doesn’t make him feel the physical pain. It’s mostly the emotional one. And that one, he feels it in every cell of his bones.

The midwife soothes your back, trying to comfort you as well. She told you she had three children, the youngest being fifteen today. Her second child was born during a full moon, and she had to go through the pain of childbirth and the shift. She thought she’d die. It was a pain like no other. She shifted during labor, and she gave birth to her daughter as a wolf. It’s definitely crazy, but you can only have admiration for this woman.

“You’re really doing great, yn,” she says with a soft voice. “Listen to Jungkook.”

“It hurts so much,” you say.

“I know, sweetheart,” Nari, the midwife, answers. “But very soon, your baby will be here with you, and the pain will then calm down.”

All you want now is for your baby to be out, but he’s been taking all his time to go down. It isn’t his fault; he’s actually also in pain. It isn’t just you; it’s him too.

Nari told you that babies suffer too during birth, and honestly, you never considered it, but it makes sense. When the waters break, there is nothing between you and your baby anymore. It’s literally bones against bones. And in the middle of that, your baby has to descend and move his little head to pave the way out.

The warmth that he usually gives you when you’re not well isn’t there anymore. There’s something else, and maybe that’s what accentuates your pain. You’re not sure. There’s just so much going on right now. Everything is over-stimulating. And this has been going on for hours now.

Five minutes ago, you reached the pushing part. Your baby is close; he’s almost here. It’s a matter of minutes or seconds before meeting your little boy. Before meeting the life you’ve been carrying for nine months. And honestly, that’s the part you’re the most excited for. That’s the part you’ve been waiting for since starting this whole insemination journey.

Your body is shaking under the pressure and the pain, sweat clinging to your skin, but your mind is solely focused on one thing. It’s on him. On your son.

You’re so close to finally meeting the little soul who’s changed everything. The one who’s made you stronger, softer, and more alive than you ever thought possible. You feel Jungkook’s hand caressing your face. His voice murmuring something low in your ear, something encouraging, but you can’t make out the words anymore. All you hear is your heartbeat.

And when the next wave comes, you push with everything you have left. Not just with your body, but with your heart. You push like it’s the last time you have to do it. Nari is behind you, trying to check on the progression, and then her words echo in your mind.

“I see his head,” she says with evident joy. “One more push, sweetheart.”

You’re uncertain if you have any strength left in you, but if one final push is what it takes, you believe you can do it. Every muscle in your body is trembling, your heart racing with pain and anticipation. Jungkook disappears from your line of sight, but he’s behind you now, steady and silent, ready to be the first one to hold your son.

The room feels suspended in time, heavy with energy. The world quiets. It’s just you, your body, and the tiny soul about to arrive.

Then it comes. The final contraction crashes over you like a tidal wave, fierce and unstoppable. Your hands clutch, your jaw clenches as you scream through it. You push, not just with your body, but with everything in you. With love, with fear, with fire.

And in that breathless moment, you feel it—your son sliding from your body, the final connection breaking. It’s more than just physical. It’s like a part of your soul detaching, only to be reborn in a new shape. He’s no longer just yours alone. He’s himself now. A tiny, living being. A legacy. A future.

For a brief moment, the room is filled with silence while Jungkook catches your son. This silence seems impossibly long for you, but extremely short for your boyfriend, who watches your baby with absolute wonder. The baby you’ve both been longing for so long.

Then, the silence is suddenly shattered by the sound you’ve been aching to hear—a cry. Sharp, strong, impossibly real. Your baby is finally here. Your baby has finally left your body after all this time.

Tears form in your eyes instantly. You don’t even realize you’re crying until your vision blurs. Jungkook lets out a sound; a broken breath, part laughter, part disbelief. He now holds your son in his arms for the first time since it all started.

“He’s here,” he whispers, his voice shaking. “He’s perfect.”

“You can turn around,” Nari tells you while she rubs your back.

With shaky legs and with the help of Nari, you finally sit, and when you finally get to see Jungkook with your son, your heart instantly melts. Your boyfriend’s eyes look up to meet yours, and he gets closer to you to rest your baby in your arms. The second he’s rested against you, his cries calm down, your warmth reassuring him.

You hold him extremely tightly against you. It feels surreal. It feels like you’re in a dream. Your eyes are glued on your son, and you never want to look at anything else than him. Tears keep running down your face, but this time, it isn’t due to the pain. It’s due to the extreme love and joy your heart is experiencing right now. You don’t even notice Jungkook standing next to you and looking at the two of you.

“Let’s place you in a more comfortable position,” Nari informs you.

Both she and Jungkook guide you to a little place behind you. You remain seated, but your back is now pressed against a soft material. Your legs are wide open, the umbilical cord still connected to your body. For a little while, you stay like this. Jungkook sits next to you, his impressive hands caressing the top of the baby’s head.

“Okay, it’s now time to push the placenta out,” Nari tells you.

She hands a pair of scissors to Jungkook to cut the umbilical cord. You never let go of your son, too scared that he might disappear if he isn’t in your arms anymore. But you have to hand him to his father because the placenta needs to leave your body. After a couple of pushes, it’s out. Now, your belly feels empty. There isn’t anything there anymore. And you feel a little pain in your heart. You got used to feeling your son inside you, and he isn’t there anymore. He’s in his father’s arms.

“How are you feeling?” Jungkook sits down next to you once more after Nari took your baby to check him up.

“Dead,” you honestly answer. “I’m destroyed and I feel empty too, but my heart has never felt this full of love.”

Jungkook’s hand gently strokes your thigh, and you rest your head on his shoulder. You close your eyes as you feel yourself slowly falling asleep.

“How does it feel now to be a father?” you ask, already half asleep.

“I became a father the second you got pregnant,” he says. “But now that I've gotten to meet our son, my heart is about to explode with love. I’ve never fallen in love this way.”

You’d like to say you’re offended, but you feel the exact same way. The second you laid eyes on your son, you fell in love with him. It’s a kind of love you’ve never felt before. It’s so pure and so strong at the same time. When you hear Nari getting closer to you, you open your eyes. She’s walking back to you with the brightest smile on her face.

“I’ll let you discover his pretty eyes,” she says as she places your baby in your arms.

Both you and Jungkook gasp when you see his beautiful eyes. Unexpectedly, he doesn’t have one eye color. He has two. One eye is blue and the other is red. He doesn’t belong to one pack only. He’s part of both. He’s a Shadow and Blood.

“It’s so pretty,” Jungkook whispers. “I’ve never seen anyone being part of two packs.”

“Seems like he didn’t want to choose,” you smile. “He wants to be both at the same time.”

“And that’s why he’s already strong. He got the best of both worlds.”

“It’s a first time,” Nari intervenes. “Nobody has ever belonged to two packs, and I’m already so proud that our future king will belong to my pack,” her eyes meet yours, “to our pack.”

Nari is a Shadow. When it came to giving birth, you didn’t want just any midwife. You wanted someone who understood you, who spoke the language of your blood and instincts. Someone who could guide you not just medically, but spiritually too. If something were to go wrong, she’d know what to do. It gave you peace, and that peace is what brought you here.

“And let’s not forget he also belongs to the humans,” Jungkook adds gently. “He carries human blood too.”

You glance at him, heart swelling. Your son is already so special, not only because he’s your son. He’s a hybrid, a Shadow, a Blood, and a future king. A future king with roots deeper than tradition, broader than bloodlines. He carries so much already, and he’s only a couple of minutes old.

“Yes,” you whisper, your mind drifting to your father.

For a moment, you think about your parents. Your mind brings back your father’s smile and your mother’s warm laugh. They would have been overjoyed. Their grandson would’ve been spoiled with stories, hugs, and the kind of love only grandparents know how to give. You know they’re watching, wherever they are. You hope they’re proud.

Even though they won’t physically be present, they’ll be in your heart. And your baby boy is lucky to have Felix as his grandfather. He’ll grow up with him and will call him grandpa, but you know he’ll grow up with stories of your parents. Just like he’ll grow up with the stories of his grandfather, Taemoo.

“And what will be his name?” Nari asks, her voice cutting gently through the stillness.

You smile. The question lingers in the air, heavier than expected, not because it’s unexpected, but because this moment feels sacred. You hadn’t told anyone, not even your closest family. You and Jungkook decided early on to keep it secret, away from opinions or superstitions. This name wasn’t up for debate. It was chosen, not by trend, not by suggestion, but by instinct.

“Kai,” you say simply.

Nari’s eyes brighten, her smile wide and genuine.

“A unique name for a truly unique child,” Jungkook adds, pride clear in his voice.

You glance at your son, swaddled and sleeping peacefully, as if the world hadn’t just shifted around him. For the longest time, he was supposed to be Minho, a name you both adored. But the moment he made his presence known, strong and certain, you realized he needed something different. Something rare. Something that fits.

Minho was sweet. But Kai… Kai felt like destiny.

Maybe Minho will be the name of another son one day. But this boy? This boy was born under a Blood Moon, in a sacred place, with shadows and royalty in his veins.

Kai was always meant to be his name.

“It’s a sweet name,” Nari answers.

“Thank you,” you look up, your eyes meeting hers for a moment.

It’s extremely unreal to realize you just gave birth to the next king. It’s already surreal that you’re dating one, but now? Now, your blood runs through royal veins. Your lineage and Jungkook’s, once separate, are forever bound together in the heart of a child who carries both your worlds.

Bloodlines entwined, not just by fate, but by choice. By love.

After a little while, Jungkook carries you back to the main house while Nari holds Kai. You have absolutely no more energy left in your body. It’s like Kai sucked it all up while joining you. And your boyfriend doesn’t want you to make any more effort tonight.

“Can you please take care of him while I help her take a bath?” Jungkook asks Nari once inside.

“Absolutely,” she answers.

Jungkook’s arms hold you very tightly as he makes his way to the bathroom next to your bedroom. First, he lays you down on the bed and then disappears to turn the water on. You’re slowly falling asleep, and you’re internally battling to keep your eyes open, but it’s extremely hard. You desperately need to sleep.

Nari, on her side, is in your son’s room. It’s the room right in front of yours. You’ve prepared and decorated it before your baby’s arrival. To your eyes, it’s the prettiest room in this house.

When the bath is filled with hot water, your boyfriend comes back. A smile appears on his face when he notices that you’re in the exact same position.

“You haven’t moved,” he comments.

“I’m too tired, Kook.” You don’t even have the energy to say his full name.

His hands remove the blanket covering your body before holding you once more. He lays you in the hot water, making you gasp as you feel it surrounding your sore body. Jungkook sits on the floor, his eyes filled with so much pride.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his fingers tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you for being such a wonderful and powerful person.” Your eyes look up to meet his. “Thank you for giving birth to our son. Thank you for making me a father,” his eyes are glowing like never before. “Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world.”

“You don’t have to thank me, angel.” Your hand finds its way to his cheek to stroke it. “We’ve done this together.”

“I feel so grateful to have you,” he says. “But now that you’ve given birth to Kai, I feel even more grateful. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m so damn lucky that fate made you my soulmate. Life before you felt tasteless. You’re literally my sunshine, and I’m so in love with you. Even more now that I got to witness this incredible moment.”

Something has changed in Jungkook, you can see that although you’re extremely tired and half awake. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but he’s definitely glowing. Tears start forming in your eyes as he pours his heart out for you.

“You’re going to make me cry, Jungkook.” Your hand never stops soothing his cheek.

“Marry me, yn,” he blankly says.

Your eyes widen, your hand instantly halting. Even though you knew it would happen one day, because of the soulmate bond, it catches you by surprise. You didn’t expect to hear those words on the day you’d deliver your son.

You always imagined the proposal to take place a bit later on, maybe in two years or something like that. You thought that it would happen around a romantic moment that Jungkook would have planned weeks before. He would bend down on his knee with a velvety box in his hand, and a beautiful ring would be on display.

“Jungkook…” you whisper. “Did you really just ask me to marry you while I’m floating half-dead and asleep in a tub, and bleeding?”

“There’s no version of you I’d love more than this one.”

You shake your head softly with a little smile on your face. Your boyfriend is being extremely adorable, and you feel so thankful to have him in your life and have him as your baby daddy.

“You should’ve waited,” you begin. “You should’ve waited a least a couple of days or waited until I felt like myself again.”

“I couldn’t wait, sunshine,” he says, his voice low and steady. “What happened today…. I’ve never seen anything more powerful and more beautiful than you today. You brought our son into this world. You made him.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead. Your eyes instantly close to savor this moment.

“Seeing you here after giving birth to our son, it just feels like it’s the right moment. Any other moment won’t ever feel as right as this one. You, looking like a sleepy goddess who just conquered the world, are exactly who I want to annoy for the rest of my life,” he smiles while you open your eyes again to look at him.

Jungkook brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss against your knuckles, his warm mouth contrasting with the room's cool air.

Your heart swells in your chest, emotions flooding in all at once. You’ve just brought life into the world, and now Jungkook is looking at you like you hung the moon. After everything, after the hours of pain, fear, and wonder, his words wrap around your heart like silk, softening the sharp edges of exhaustion.

And it hits you all over again: this is your person—the one who’s seen every version of you and still chooses you wholeheartedly.

“Marry me. Not because it’s tradition or timing. Not because we had a child. Marry me because you're my home, and because we were written into each other long before we ever met.”

“You’re really going to ask me to marry you while I’m naked, bruised, and leaking all sorts of fluids?” You smile through your exhaustion.

“You make leaking look ethereal,” he grins.

You groan and laugh at once. “God, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

And he’s right, you don’t. You love him with all your soul. You love him enough to say the one word that makes his whole world stop for a moment.

“Yes.”

His breath catches. He blinks once, twice, then leans in to kiss your temple like you’re the most sacred thing he’s ever touched.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin.

“Yes, Jungkook.”

He rests his forehead gently against yours.

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life thanking the moon for you.”

When you open your eyes, you’re graced with the prettiest view you’ve ever got to witnessed. Jungkook is holding Kai tightly in his arms and is rocking him while singing a lullaby. You never knew that you needed this in your life. For a brief moment, his eyes meet yours, and a wide smile appears on his face.

“Mommy is finally awake,” he sings to your son.

Nari stayed the entire night to help you out. It was more than a struggle to stay awake, and you actually fell asleep in the bath while Jungkook was cleaning you. But then, you woke up several times with your son’s cries, and you even started to breastfeed him after several failed attempts.

Jungkook woke up as well and made sure you’d fall asleep right after nourishing your baby. He wanted you to sleep as much as possible because you went through a physically traumatic experience. Your body needs to recover from it, and it starts with getting as much rest as possible. So basically, he was mostly the one taking care of Kai. And you’re absolutely thankful for that.

“She is the most special person in the whole wide world,” he continues. “She’s my lover and your mommy. We are both so lucky to have her.”

You can’t help but smile as you hear him sing. For a moment, your eyes take in the sight in front of you.

Jungkook stands shirtless, his chest rising and falling steadily as he cradles your baby against him. His strong arms cradle Kai with such ease, the quiet strength in his touch wrapped in a tenderness that steals your breath. It’s a contrast so beautiful, it tugs at something deep inside you. His hair is all over the place, and the faint dark circles beneath his eyes tell you everything you need to know—he barely slept last night, too busy taking care of both of you.

This sight feels like a dream you never knew you had. If this is how you’re going to wake up every day from now on, then well, you won the damn lottery. Honestly, you won it when Jungkook entered your life and showed you what true love is. Throughout those past nine months, he stood by your side, braved every storm with you, and held your hand through it all. Kai is lucky to have him as his father.

“She’s the strongest woman I know,” Jungkook hums softly, his eyes still on Kai. “She brought you into the world with so much courage, and somehow, she still looks like an angel while doing it.”

“I probably look like a wreck,” you laugh lightly, your voice raspy from sleep.

His gaze meets yours, his smile softening. This version of you is one he never saw coming, yet he’s fallen harder than he ever imagined. To him, you're breathtaking. You’ve just brought life into the world, and despite the exhaustion etched into your features, he sees nothing but beauty and power.

“You look like the prettiest wreck.”

That causes your face to warm, and your eyes sting with the sudden wave of emotion. You shift slightly under the covers, your body still aching, but your heart overflowing. The postpartum period won’t be easy, you know that. It’s already quite painful to move in bed, but you have to take it slow. Jungkook is by your side; he even took some time off from his royal duties.

His mother, Jisoo, is actually going to step in to manage everything else while you and Jungkook settle into this new chapter. He won’t be fully stepping away from his duties, but for as long as you need him, you’ll be his only priority. He wants to help you, and he also wants to be a present father for Kai. There’s no way he won’t be present in the first moments of his son’s life.

Jungkook walks over to the bed, still holding Kai, and kneels beside you. Your eyes look down at your baby, who looks absolutely perfect.

“We missed you,” he murmurs.

“I missed you both too,” you whisper, reaching out to trace your finger gently along Kai’s tiny cheek. “I still can’t believe he’s here.”

“Me neither,” Jungkook confesses. “But it feels wonderful to have him here. I don’t want to ever let go of him.”

Your hand moves up to stroke your boyfriend’s cheek, and his eyes instantly flutter shut. His face leans into your palm instinctively, and it feels like your skin is the only anchor he needs. For a moment, neither of you speaks—there’s no need to.

Everything you’ve been through, everything you feel, lives in the quiet between your breaths. You trace the curve of his cheekbone with your thumb, and when his lashes finally lift, his gaze is soft and reverent, like you’re the most sacred thing he’s ever seen.

Your boyfriend then places Kai in your arms before he stands up and sits next to you in bed. Your eyes land on your baby. The most beautiful and perfect being you’ve ever seen. His tiny, round nose reminds you of his father’s. His full cheeks remind you of yours in that portrait your grandparents have. And in all honesty, you feel like your son looks a lot like your mom.

“He’s so perfect,” you whisper while your finger gently traces over his nose.

“He is,” Jungkook whispers near your ear.

Your boyfriend rests his chin on your shoulder, the two of you completely hypnotized by the little life you created together.

“He’s incredibly perfect because he takes a lot after you,” Jungkook’s words echo in your mind. “It almost feels like I didn’t contribute at all in here. He’s just a tiny and mini version of you. And man, that makes him even prettier.”

“He has your nose,” you answer. “And your eyes.”

“Only one,” he smiles.

It’s still so disturbing to have a baby with heterochromia, especially since the colors are extremely different. Red and blue.

“I’m not speaking of the color,” you shake your head. “I’m talking about the shape.”

“Other than that, he just looks like you.”

“I think he looks a lot like my mom,” you admit. “Remember the pictures my grandparents showed us?” Jungkook nods. “When I look at Kai, I see the one taken a couple of hours after my mom was born.”

Now that you said it, Jungkook can’t unsee it. Your son definitely takes after your mom, but your boyfriend is still convinced Kai is a mini version of you.

“But he also looks a lot like you, sunshine. When I look at him, all I see is you.”

Slowly, Kai opens his eyes. Although it’s weird to see two eye colors, it just suits him. It makes him even more perfect.

“Seems like you’ve decided to shake our world completely, little prince,” Jungkook speaks out loud. “Being a hybrid wasn’t enough,” his finger strokes his cheek. “You also needed to belong to two packs,” he pauses for a bit. “You’re just like your mother.”

“We decided it was about time that things changed over here,” you answer with a bright smile on your face.

Your son’s eyes move from you to Jungkook, and it feels like he recognizes you. And then, out of the blue, you both feel the warmth Kai used to spread while inside you. His strong powers already echo around you, enveloping you in a protective shield.

“This little man is definitely going to change everything,” Jungkook says with evident emotion in his voice. “Look how powerful he already is.”

“He’s the result of bloodlines entwining,” you answer. “He carries the blood of Bloods, Shadows, and humans.”

Kai is living proof that mixing blood isn’t a weakness—it’s a strength. A strength that ancient werewolves tried to suppress. And the more you think about it, the more it seems that those old rules weren’t about protection—they were about fear. Fear of what could happen if bloodlines entwined. Fear of power that couldn’t be controlled. But now, with your birth and Kai’s, that fear looks small. Outdated. Because you both are proof that the bloodlines don’t need to be pure. They need to be united.

“In the end, keeping the bloodline pure only made us weaker,” Jungkook mumbles.

“And Kai is the proof of it.”

Kai’s birth was announced to the entire werewolf world within hours. The birth of the next king was celebrated across continents, and the Shadows bowed to the heir who carries their blood. The moment you heard it, you cried.

News of his heterochromia was also announced, marking him as the first werewolf chosen by two packs. A miracle. A first. His dual heritage surprised everyone, and now you’ll have to figure out what that means for his future. But that can wait.

Right now, all that matters is him. Your son. The tiny miracle you carried, birthed, and now hold in your arms.

Jungkook’s family and your family, meaning Lexi and Felix, are all gathered in the biggest living room of this palace. Instead of having your families come one by one to visit you and meet Kai, you decided to invite them all together. You’ve also done it because it’s going to be the first time humans and werewolves are together in the same room.

You also can’t wait to catch their reaction when they see Kai’s eyes. While pregnant, you explained this eye thing to Lexi and Felix so they wouldn’t be surprised when they meet your son for the first time.

Both you and Jungkook are head over heels over Kai. He’s been crying a lot, sleeping a lot, but he’s absolutely adorable. You’ve never been this happy. This journey as a mother has been going much better than you expected when you decided to get inseminated. Being a mother with a father by your side is even better than being a single mother. You get a shoulder to cry on when it’s too much.

When you and Jungkook enter the room with Kai in his arms, all the heads turn to look at you. A smile grows on their faces. Dohee’s kids aren’t present yet, but they’ll get to meet their cousin later on today. Both Felix and Jisoo take a step closer to lay eyes on their grandchild for the first time. You can see a tear running down Felix’s cheek, and man, it does make you feel emotional.

“Mom, Felix,” Jungkook begins, “this is Kai, your grandson.”

At that moment, Kai opens his eyes as if he knows he has to reveal himself to his family. They both gasp as they see with their own eyes the blue and red in their grandson’s eyes. They are totally aware of it because you told them when announcing your son’s birth. It’s something you couldn’t hide from them.

“It’s impressive,” Felix whispers as he gets closer to run a finger over Kai’s cheek.

It definitely makes you extremely emotional to see him become a grandfather. Kai is so lucky to have him as a grandpa because you know damn well Felix will cover him with so much love. Your son won’t ever get to meet your birth parents, but he’ll grow up with the person you chose to call dad.

“It really is,” Jisoo adds. “This little baby is already so special.”

Your son has been special since the day he was conceived. Born to a king and a hybrid.

“Let me see my nephew,” Lexi rushes to your side.

She holds your hand before squeezing it when she lays eyes on her nephew.

“Damn, he really took after you,” her eyes meet yours. “He’s as beautiful as his mom.”

“For once, you’re acknowledging my good looks,” you tease her.

“And it’ll be the last time,” she smiles. “But you both did a great job with this little munchkin. He’s really handsome.”

As Jungkook’s siblings gather around you as well, Kai suddenly shields you and Jungkook, trying to protect you from your own family. They all feel this invisible energy, even Felix and Lexi, who aren’t werewolves. His family struggles to fight it, and their urges to shift.

“It’s okay, little man,” you whisper as you caress his sweet little face. “They are family.”

It’s weird to feel his protective aura all the time. You’ve never experienced something so strong, but you’re so proud at the same time for creating this powerful person. Experiencing it during your pregnancy is one thing, but it’s a totally different now that he’s out.

“Wow, this little guy isn’t joking,” Mingi says. “He’s only two days old and already displaying his powers.”

Honestly, this scares you as well. Your son might be perceived as a threat, and some people might try to do horrible things to him. The first person that crosses your mind is Yuna. She never accepted his existence because of who you are, and because he’s the son of the man she still loves.

“Don’t worry, sunshine,” Jungkook speaks to you through thoughts. “We’ll protect him no matter what.”

“I know, but what if it’s not enough?” Your eyes look up to meet his.

“He seems to be proving he can protect himself and his loved ones.”

“But he’s so little,” you add.

“Look around, love,” he continues. “All these people love him and will protect him. I totally understand you, but I prefer to believe we will all protect him and never let anyone harm him. I don’t want to think negatively.”

Your eyes look at all the people in this room. You don’t doubt the slightest that they’ll do everything in their power to protect him. Jungkook’s family is one of the strongest in the werewolf world. People don’t really stand a chance against them, and they will most probably not stand one face to this little powerful being. But as a mother, you can only be concerned.

Jisoo notices that you’re speaking through thoughts, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t want to ruin whatever conversation you’re having. But she can tell you’re concerned about something. She guesses that it’s about your son’s strength.

Slowly, Kai’s protection fades away.

“How can he do that? How can he know who to protect at such a young age?” Hyunjin asks, baffled.

“We’re not entirely sure,” you admit. “We know he recognizes me because I carried him for nine months. Maybe he hasn’t fully realized he’s no longer inside my body.”

“As for me,” Jungkook adds, “we think he recognized my voice, maybe even sensed me through the soulmate bond.”

“We also believe he recognizes us through blood,” you continue. “Like an instinct—he feels that we share the same blood. But that’s just speculation.”

“We read so many books about mixed bloods, and every one of them said something different.”

Felix helped you decipher a few of the more ancient texts. Thanks to his background in old languages, he managed to translate fragments that spoke of blood recognition—that mixed-blooded children can identify their lineage through something deeper than scent or voice. It’s wild to think about, but those same texts claimed their strength is tied to that very connection.

Everything is so uncertain with Kai, but as he grows up, you’re sure you’ll get to understand it better. Kai is unique, and until he has another sibling, no one else will be like him. Since Kai chose to belong to two packs, any possible child you might have will also belong to two packs. It’s something you've gotten to learn through those many ancient books. All mixed-bloods siblings choose the same pack.

“Well, we’ll learn with him,” Jungkook adds. “Kai is different in every possible way, so we’ll figure everything out through him.”

And you already know that it’s going to be a bumpy road. You’re in the dark with him, and you’ll have to navigate parenthood with his uniqueness. For sure, it won’t be easy, but you’ll have Jungkook by your side, and you’ll shower this baby with love. He’s never going to feel different, although he is.

With Felix and Lexi, he’ll learn to embrace his human side. With the Jeon’s family, he’ll learn to embrace his wolf side. With you, he’ll learn to embrace the best of both worlds. And with Jungkook, he’ll learn to embrace his destiny as the next king. Kai is never going to be alone.

“And we’ll be by your side,” Jisoo says. “He’s never going to be alone with all of us.”

“Let’s not focus on that right now,” Felix says. “He was born two days ago, and we should celebrate him. He’s absolutely adorable,” his eyes look down at his grandson before he caresses his cheek. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, little man. I’ve been waiting for you for over a year now.”

It’s probably been almost two years since you started this insemination journey, and Felix has been there from the very beginning. Nothing went as planned, but in the end, your baby is finally here, which was the original plan. The project was to have a baby, and he’s here.

“I can’t believe I’m an auntie now,” Lexi says. “I’m going to spoil this kid and be the best auntie ever.” Her eyes look at Dohee. “Sorry, I’m just too fabulous.”

You roll your eyes before shaking your head with a smile on your face.

“You’re incorrigible!” you say.

“You’re starting a competition here, Lexi,” Dohee retorts to your sister, “and I’ll smash you. Kai will adore me more than you.”

The two of them are so silly, but you can’t wait to see how it will be once your baby is older. There’s no doubt he’ll love them both so much, although it’ll be different.

“Luckily, he only has paternal uncles and we don’t need to compete with anyone else,” Mingi chuckles.

“You’re all too crazy,” Jisoo says. “You’re going to traumatize this little one.”

“His parents are already doing that,” Hyunjin replies.

“Eeeh,” you say.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow and smirks, rocking Kai gently in his arms. You can already sense that he’s going to say nonsense. It wouldn’t be Jungkook if he didn’t do it. This man always has an answer to all, even if it’s bullshit.

“Excuse you all, but I am clearly his favorite. I’m the one with the good hair,” he says, flipping his hair dramatically like he’s in a shampoo commercial. “He was born obsessed with me.”

The room erupts with laughter, and you shake your head. This man is incredible!

“Delusional,” Lexi fires back.

“Absolutely tragic,” Dohee adds with a snort.

“That’s the sleep deprivation talking,” Mingi says, shaking his head.

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on any of you,” Jungkook shrugs, unbothered. Then he leans in toward Kai, voice soft but teasing: “Don’t worry, little prince, I’ll protect you from your dramatic aunties and uncles.”

After that, you spend the next hour with your family. All of them carried Kai in their arms for a little while. They are all absolutely in love with your little man, like you and Jungkook. Who can’t fall in love with him?

Once they are all gone, you place Kai in the little crib and sit down on the couch. You’re exhausted, dead, and very much sleep deprived, but extremely happy. This family moment filled your heart with so much joy and happiness.

“We did it,” Jungkook says. “We had the little baby we wanted.”

“And we found love in the middle of the journey,” you continue.

“That’s the best part of it all,” he chuckles.

Jungkook gently presses his lips to yours, kissing you with so much passion. Your fingers play with his hair at the nape of his neck while his hands land on your waist.

“Let’s have more handsome babies,” he whispers against your lips.

“Eeeh, give me some time to recover from this birth,” you answer. “And then, I’ll give you as many babies as you want.”

“Really?” his eyes sparkle, and he’s absolutely adorable.

“Yep,” you nod.

Jungkook’s grin grows wider. This man is up to no good. It doesn’t even surprise you because he’s always such a tease. But that’s how you love him so much.

“Dangerous words, sunshine,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing as his fingers brush slow, lazy circles on your waist. “You can’t just offer me a whole army of mini-us and expect me to behave.”

You laugh, your nose brushing his. To be honest, it feels great that nothing has changed between you two despite becoming parents. You were afraid that everything would become different, but except for the part that another person is living in this house, things are pretty much the same with Jungkook.

“I said after I recover, Mister Drama Queen.”

He leans in closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear now.

“I’ll try to behave, but no promises. You know what you do to me,” his breath is warm, his tone deliciously suggestive.

Your fingers tug lightly at his hair again, lips curling into a smirk. Of course, you know the effect you have on him, but you have still to recover from this birth. Your kid ripped everything inside you when you were pushing him out of you.

“Behave, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch. And Kai’s sleeping in our bed now, so good luck trying anything, Your Highness.”

Jungkook groans dramatically. It’s definitely weird for the two of you to have a third person in your bed. It feels so small now, but you wouldn’t change a damn thing.

“You’re evil. Beautiful, irresistible… and evil.”

You bite your lip to suppress your smile, fully aware of the effect you have on him.

“Welcome to fatherhood.”

Jungkook rests his head on your shoulder, your hands threading slowly through the softness of his hair, the two of you tangled in this hazy, post-baby bubble. The living room is quiet now, just the soft hum of nighttime settling in like the world itself is holding its breath for you.

“You really are going to make me work for those future babies, huh?” you feel him groan against your shoulder.

You giggle softly, your fingers still gently tangled in his hair.

“Parenthood’s a long game, mister. You better pace yourself.”

He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek, and suddenly, all the teasing fades. His eyes carry that look again. The same look you always fall in love with.

“I’d wait a lifetime if it means doing all of it with you,” his fingers trace invisible lines on your cheek.

And just like that, something inside you shifts. A rush of memories floods in. Memories of who you both were before this love, before the baby, before the chaos and healing and magic that brought you here. There were days when you weren’t sure you’d ever feel this full. But now, it feels like your heart has stretched to hold two lifetimes at once.

“You’re really trying to charm me right now, aren’t you?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Is it working?”

You lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Always.”

His arms wrap a little tighter around your waist, pulling you just close enough for your head to rest against his chest. You can hear his heart—steady, strong, and completely yours.

“Then let me be this version of me forever. Just a man in love with his girl and wrapped around her finger.”

You laugh into his neck, comforted by the heat of him, by the home you’ve built in his arms.

“Careful what you wish for, Mr. King. You might end up changing all the diapers.”

“Worth it,” he replies without missing a beat, planting a kiss on your temple. “For you? I’d do it all.”

You smile into his chest, letting yourself melt for just a moment longer. Being in his arms is your safest place. It’s where you belong now. There’s no other place you’d like to be right now. Being with Jungkook was always your destiny, and man, thinking about spending the rest of your life with him feels wonderful.

Very soon, you’ll probably get married, and hopefully, more babies will be added to the mix. You’ll get to witness Jungkook as a father and as your lover, something you’re definitely looking forward to. It feels like you can’t love him even more than you do now, but you know that tomorrow, you’ll love him more than you do today. It has been like that since the day you first met him at the clinic.

That day seems so far away when, in reality, it was nine months ago, but so much has happened since then. You've got to discover yourself. You’ve got to discover the truth behind your parents' relationship and death. You’ve got to meet your grandparents. And you’ve got to meet the love of your life.

Today, you’d like to visit your old self. The ten-year-old version of you who lost her parents. You’d hug her, hold her tight in your arms, and cry with her. You’d tell her that everything will go just fine. You’d describe your life and let her know that, one day, she’d be incredibly happy. Maybe she wouldn’t believe you because of the pain, but she’d eagerly wait for that day to come.

Life didn’t treat you well at some point, and you still have to deal with the pain and emptiness you constantly feel. But today, you have Jungkook and Kai. They won’t for sure heal you and fill that void, but they’ll ease the pain.

In the end, the tragic end of your parents has shaken the whole werewolf universe. Your presence alone changed an ancient law, and one day, you’ll get to wear a crown. One that Jungkook will place on your head. You know that if your parents had the chance to know back then what you’d become, they would have died in total peace. They’d have most probably been proud to know their grandchild would become king.

Kai is the result of many bloodlines entwining together. He’s the result of a love story between a Blood King and a Shadow hybrid, but he’s also the beginning of that love story. Without him, maybe today, you wouldn’t have met Jungkook yet. Maybe you’d even spent years before meeting him. It’s crazy to think that Kai is the reason you’re together today.

As you look at Jungkook and Kai, your heart swells with so much love and pride. A smile grows on your face as you reflect on your life. You reflect on what has been the past thirty years of your life.

You survived. You loved. And now, you live for all three of you.

470 notes · View notes

bearxgyeomie · 2 days ago

Text

SWEETHEART | KIM HONG JOONG

pairing: kim hongjoong x fem!reader

synopsis: you’re a skilled pickpocket who unknowingly steals from hongjoong, the ruthless mafia leader. the next thing you know, you’re dragged into the mafia world.

genre: mafia au, cat-and-mouse, reluctant alliance.

warnings: blood-shed, violence, panic attack, kissing, cliche stuff like yk the dress and heels thing (forgive me)

word count: 16.4k

[series masterlist]

—The crowd moves like a river, thick with tourists and businessmen, all too absorbed in their own lives to notice you. Perfect. You slip through the bodies with practiced ease, brushing against a man in a suit just lightly enough to slip your fingers into his coat pocket. Your touch is quick, ghostlike. By the time he takes another step, his wallet is yours.

You don’t stop walking. Rule number one: never stop. Casually, you slip the wallet into your jacket and veer into a side alley. Only then do you let yourself exhale. Flipping it open, you scan the contents—credit cards, an ID, a few hundred in cash. Easy. Routine.

The thrill is always the same, a sharp rush that hums under your skin.

But you’re not done.

You step back onto the main street, eyes scanning for the next mark. That’s when you spot him.

A man stands near a sleek black car, phone pressed to his ear. His suit isn’t just expensive—it’s power wrapped in fabric. The kind of power that turns heads, that makes people step out of the way without thinking. His dark eyes flicker up, sharp and unreadable, before dismissing everything around him. He’s focused on the call.

A passing group provides perfect cover. You slip in close, your shoulder barely brushing his as your fingers work. The weight of the wallet slides into your palm so smoothly it almost feels too easy. Your heart pounds, but your face remains impassive as you keep walking, melting into the sea of people.

It takes fifteen minutes before you check your prize.

You’re perched on the steps of an old building, half-hidden in the shadows, when you pull out the wallet. It’s heavier than most. Your fingers flip it open, expecting cash, cards—maybe something extra.

What you find instead makes your blood run cold.

Black leather. Minimalist. Inside, an ID stares back at you. The name is one you’ve only ever heard in hushed whispers, in stories told between thieves who knew better than to try their luck.

Kim Hongjoong.

You don’t need to read the rest. Your fingers are already shaking. The emblem on the card is enough—a symbol of the underworld, of power beyond money. A name that commands fear.

You just stole from the most dangerous man in the city.

Your pulse is hammering now, cold dread settling in your stomach like a stone. You’re good—one of the best—but even you know there are lines you don’t cross. Kim Hongjoong isn’t just another rich bastard flashing wealth like a target on his back. He’s the kind of man who has people dragged off the streets for less than this.

And you just made yourself his problem.

Your first instinct is to return it. Just slip back through the crowd, drop it at his feet, walk away before he even notices. It wouldn’t undo what you did, but maybe—just maybe—it’d buy you a few extra seconds of life.

Before you could turn around and fix your mistake, you hear footsteps. Not the usual aimless shuffle of the street.

"She must’ve gone this way."

A voice, low and sharp, cutting through the noise of the city.

"Spread out. Don’t let her slip past."

"Hyung said not to make a mess. Just get her."

They’re already looking for you. Your pulse spiked, your body moving before your mind could catch up. Without hesitation, you tossed the wallet onto a rusted barrel near the alley’s entrance and bolted.

Your feet hit the ground hard as you sprinted down the alley, boots skidding slightly against the damp pavement. A pipe jutted out from the wall ahead—low enough to grab. Without breaking stride, you jumped, gripping it tight, muscles straining as you hoisted yourself up. You swung over, landing on a fire escape, the metal groaning under your weight.

A second later, footsteps thundered into the alley you’d just been in.

"Fuck—where did she go?"

"Check the sides. She couldn't have—"

"Up there!"

Shit.

You climbed the fire escape two steps at a time, your breath coming in sharp exhales. The city stretched out before you as you reached the roof, neon lights bleeding into the night sky. No time to admire the view. You took off, your legs burning as you sprinted across the rooftop.

Behind you, the sound of pursuit. Metal rattling. Footsteps heavy against concrete. They were following. You could hear their curses, the way they moved with precision.

You leaped to the next building without hesitation. The drop between them was sharp, an alley yawning below, but you barely felt it. Your hands hit the edge, fingers scraping as you pulled yourself up. The moment your feet touched the rooftop, you ran again, weaving between rusted vents and old signs, each movement instinctual, each decision made in the space of a heartbeat.

Another gap ahead. Wider this time. You forced your legs to push harder, faster. The city blurred, wind cutting against your skin as you jumped.

Your foot barely caught the ledge. You scrambled, fingers digging into the rough surface.

"She's over there!"

Damn it. They were still behind you. But you had distance. You could still make it—

A gunshot rang out.

Your body reacted before your mind did, dropping low just as a bullet sparked against the metal vent beside you. They weren’t aiming to kill. Not yet. A warning shot. A reminder that you were running out of time.

You had to get off the rooftops. Fast.

You spotted a lower building to your left, a stack of crates leading down. Without a second thought, you veered off course, sliding down the side, your boots landing hard against the wood before jumping to the next level. The moment you hit the ground, you took off into the maze of alleyways.

The streets twisted and turned, shadows stretching long under flickering streetlights. You weaved through them, ducking behind dumpsters, slipping between narrow gaps between buildings. The sound of pursuit never faded. Heavy footsteps. Low voices barking orders. They weren’t giving up.

You turned a sharp corner, only to halt. A figure stood in your path.

The dim light barely illuminated him, but you saw the way he stood—calm, patient. Not out of breath like you were. He had been waiting for you.

Dyed red hair, catching the faint glow of the streetlamp. You couldn’t see his face in the shadows, but it didn’t matter. The way he held himself told you everything you needed to know. He worked for him.

Your body reacted before you could think. You spun on your heel, ready to bolt in the other direction—

But then another figure emerged from the darkness.

He was tall, dark hair tousled from the chase, sharp eyes burning with something dangerous. His presence was heavier, more imposing, like a wall of sheer force. The way he carried himself was different—broader shoulders, longer strides. Even standing still, he looked like he was hunting.

Your instincts screamed at you to move, to fight, to do anything but stand there like a deer caught in headlights. You turned sharply, ready to try your luck past the first man, but the second you stepped forward—

Something struck the side of your head, and the world tilted. Your vision blurred, the edges darkening. You barely registered the way your knees buckled, the sensation of the cold pavement meeting your skin. The last thing you heard was the sound of footsteps drawing closer, then darkness.

—The first thing you felt was the ache. A deep, pulsing pain at the side of your head, radiating down your neck. The second thing you felt was cold—metal biting into your wrists, the sharp edge of a chair digging into your back.

You blinked. The world came back in pieces. Dim lighting. A concrete room. A single table in front of you, sleek and empty except for a glass of water placed just within reach. Your hands—chained. Thick metal cuffs locked around your wrists, fastened to the table.

Panic clawed at your chest, but you forced it down.

Then, the door creaks open. Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed through the room. You knew who it was before you even looked up.

Kim Hongjoong.

He walked in like he owned the air in the room, like the walls themselves bent to his presence. Sharp suit, rings glinting under the dim light. He didn’t sit right away. Instead, he leaned against the table, tilting his head slightly as he studied you.

"You gave my men a bit of a workout," he said casually.

You didn’t answer. He sighed, almost amused, and finally lowered himself into the chair across from you. He moved slowly—not out of laziness, but control. Like a man who knew he had all the time in the world.

"You know who I am," he continued, tapping his fingers against the table. "That makes this easier. Saves me the trouble of introductions."

He exhaled through his nose, noticing you were quiet, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Smart. You’re not talking. That’s good. Means you’re thinking."

Your fingers curled slightly against the cuffs, but you didn’t break eye contact. Don’t let him see weakness. Don’t give him anything.

Hongjoong leaned forward. The scent of expensive cologne and something darker—gunpowder, blood, smoke—lingered around him.

"You stole from me," he said. "You ran. You made my men chase you. So tell me—why shouldn’t I put a bullet in your head right now?"

He said it so easily. Like he was asking what was for dinner. Like your life was just another business decision.

When you didn’t answer, he hummed lightly, dragging his fingers across the table. A small, absent-minded movement, as if he were thinking of a hundred different ways to break you.

"You’re not dead yet," he continued, tilting his head slightly. "That means I see value in you."

You forced yourself to hold his gaze. "And if I don’t want to be of value to you?"

A slow smile spread across his lips. "Then you’ll be of value to the bottom of the Han River."

A chill ran down your spine. There was no malice in his voice. No anger. He meant every word.

Hongjoong exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "I’ll give you some advice," he said. "People who sit in that chair? The ones who talk too much usually end up screaming. The ones who talk too little?" He tilted his head. "Well. They usually don’t get a second chance."

His fingers tapped against the metal cuff on your wrist. "But you?" His voice dropped lower, softer.. "You’re different, aren’t you?"

He let the words settle, watching you. Then, he leaned back, exhaling like this was all just mildly inconvenient for him. "So. Let’s get to the point."

"You’re good," he said. "Too good to waste. That little stunt you pulled? Impressive. Cost me time, men, resources." He shook his head slightly, clicking his tongue. "Which means you owe me."

You have two choices," he continued, completely unfazed. "You work for me."

He smirked. "Or I put you in the ground."

The words hung in the air, heavy, suffocating. You barely heard the faint drip of water somewhere in the distance.

"And before you think about the third option," he added, smiling slightly, "let me remind you. No one gets away from me. You run? I’ll find you. You fight? You won’t win."

You swallowed, fingers flexing slightly against the cuffs. His eyes darkened, amusement flickering into something colder.

"I don’t need an answer now," he murmured, standing up. "I’ll let you think about it."

He moved to the door, pausing just long enough to glance back over his shoulder.

"But don’t take too long, sweetheart."

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the cold, empty room—with the weight of your own inevitable decision.

You stared at the metal cuffs around your wrists, the skin beneath them raw from how tightly they were fastened. The cold from the table seeped into your bones, and despite how still you were sitting, your pulse hadn’t slowed since Hongjoong walked out that door.

There were no cameras you could see, but you weren’t stupid enough to think they’d leave you completely unwatched. They were waiting. Letting you stew in your own thoughts. Letting you understand exactly how trapped you were.

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to think, to plan.

Escaping was impossible.

You didn’t know where you were, didn’t know how many people were guarding the place, didn’t even know if you were still in the same part of the city. Even if by some miracle you managed to slip out, Hongjoong made it painfully clear—you wouldn’t get away.

He had an army. Resources. Eyes everywhere.

And you?

You had bruises, a throbbing headache, and a death sentence hanging over your head.

You could try running anyway. Disappear. Change your name. Burn your fingerprints off if you had to. But men like Hongjoong? They didn’t forget. Didn’t forgive. They would hunt you down, and when they find you—because they would—it wouldn’t be pretty.

Which left two options.

Option one. You refused. You died. Simple.

Option two? You worked for him.

Got tangled in the very world you spent your whole life avoiding.

The underworld didn’t let people walk away. The only way out was a body bag. Once you were in, you belonged to them. No freedom. No future. Just the slow, inevitable march toward a violent end.

You didn’t want to die. Not today, at least.

And that meant—

The door opened again.

Hongjoong stepped back into the room, looking exactly the same—untouched, unfazed, as if the last conversation had been nothing more than a casual business deal.

He sighed, stretching slightly as he sat back down across from you. "I was hoping you’d try to run," he mused. "Would’ve been fun to chase you again."

You didn’t rise to the bait. His lips twitched, amused. "Nothing? You’re no fun, sweetheart."

The word was drenched in sarcasm, and yet the way it rolled off his tongue made your skin prickle.

He leaned forward, resting his elbow against the table. "Have you made up your mind, or are we going to sit here all night?"

Your throat felt dry. Your fingers curled against the cuffs, nails pressing into your palms.

You knew what you had to say. You just hated saying it.

You swallowed once, then forced yourself to give a small nod.

He smiled. "Smart girl."

He stood, moving around the table, and you tensed instinctively as he reached for the cuffs. The metal clicked, and just like that, you were free.

Hongjoong stepped back, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Welcome to the family, darling,"

—The meeting room was too fancy.

Dark oak table, expensive leather chairs, dim lighting that cast long shadows along the walls. It wasn’t what you expected from a place run by men who could kill without blinking. It looked more like a CEO’s office than a mafia hideout.

But the tension? The tension gave it away.

You could feel it the moment you stepped inside. Eight men sat around the table, and the moment they saw you, everything shifted.

Seonghwa leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his sharp eyes flicking over you like he was trying to read something between the lines. San and Wooyoung, sitting side by side, exchanged looks before Wooyoung smirked and muttered something under his breath. Yunho was drumming his fingers against the table absently, but his eyes weren’t relaxed.

Mingi, the one who knocked you out, was watching you with an unreadable look, while Jongho’s gaze was sharp, suspicious. He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he didn’t trust you.

And then there was Yeosang. Sitting off to the side, legs crossed, scrolling through an iPad like he couldn’t care less if you lived or died.

Hongjoong strolled past you, heading straight for the head of the table. "Relax, boys," he said casually. "If I thought she was a threat, she’d already be dead."

"She’s still a thief," Jongho muttered, arms crossed. "I don’t trust her."

"Same," San added, though his tone was more amused than serious. "What’s stopping her from running the second we let her out?"

"Us," Hongjoong said simply.

You didn’t miss the way a few of them smirked at that.

Right. Running wasn’t an option.

Hongjoong settled into his chair, fingers tapping against the table. "I want to see what she’s really capable of," he said. "A test, if you will."

"The casino job," he continued, glancing around at the others. "She’ll do it alone."

The reaction was immediate. Wooyoung laughed. "You’re joking."

"You can’t be serious," Jongho muttered, eyes narrowing.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Yunho just exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

"She’ll have backup," Hongjoong said smoothly. "We’ll be watching. But I want to see how she handles herself."

Yeosang didn’t even look up from his iPad. "If she screws up, I’m not covering for her."

"I don’t expect you to," Hongjoong replied, unimpressed.

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way they were talking about you like you weren’t even there.

"What exactly do you want me to do?" you finally asked.

Hongjoong’s lips curled into a smirk. "Steal something for me."

Of course.

"A casino in the city has something I want. A small USB drive—valuable information on it." He leaned forward slightly. "It’s kept in a private security room, heavily guarded. But I have a feeling you’ll figure something out."

"Try to pull anything," he added, "and you won’t make it out of the casino’s parking lot. Understood, sweetheart?"

You exhaled through your nose. "Crystal clear."

—The inside of the van was dimly lit, the glow from multiple screens casting an eerie blue hue over the space. You sat in one of the chairs, back straight, fingers tapping idly against your thigh as Yeosang secured an earpiece for you.

"Try not to break it," he said handing it to you.

Behind you, Yeosang settled back into his seat, eyes flicking over the monitors like he couldn’t be less interested in what was happening in real life. Meanwhile, Hongjoong stood near the front, buttoning up his suit jacket, adjusting the cuffs like he wasn’t about to send you straight into the lion’s den.

"Listen carefully," he said, his voice smooth but firm. "For you to get inside the security room, you’ll need a passkey." He met your gaze, eyes sharp. "Only the personal bodyguard of the casino’s owner, Seojun, carries one. That means you’ll need to wait for Seojun to arrive—then get close enough to his guard to lift it."

"Once you have it, you’ll head to Seojun’s private office. The drive will be in his safe—somewhere behind the bar shelf. We don’t know the code, but we do know he’s a cocky bastard who keeps it written somewhere in the room."

Hongjoong straightened his tie. "Get the drive. Get out. Simple."

You scoffed. "Not as simple as you make it sound."

He smirked. "No. But I trust you’ll manage, sweetheart."

You exhaled, shifting slightly in your seat. The black dress they’d given you clung to your skin, sleek and elegant—perfect for a casino setting. Terrible for escaping.

"If you expect me to run in this," you muttered, tugging at the fabric slightly, "you should’ve given me a proper dress."

Hongjoong chuckled. "I think you'll manage, darling."

Easy for him to say.

A small beep echoed through the van as Yeosang pressed something on his tablet. "Alright, we’ve got eyes inside," he said lazily. "Seojun isn’t here yet, but the others are already in position."

Hongjoong nodded, then turned to you. "Time to go."

You took one last deep breath before stepping out of the van.

The casino loomed ahead—bright lights, luxury cars pulling up to the entrance, security stationed at every door. You slipped in smoothly, moving with the kind of ease that only came from experience. The moment you crossed the threshold, the noise hit—laughter, the chime of slot machines, the low murmur of expensive deals being made.

Mingi and Yunho near the bar, pretending to be absorbed in their drinks. Wooyoung at a poker table, laughing too loudly at something San had said. Jongho standing near the entrance, arms crossed, watching.

You were in. Now, all you had to do was get the job done.

—You had been winning.

That was the real tragedy here.

The game wasn’t even interesting anymore, but the rush of flipping the right card, the glint of irritation in the dealer’s eyes—it was fun. And you were raking in chips like you were born for this.

Then, just as you were about to go all in, Hongjoong’s voice crackled in your ear.

"Seojun just arrived. You’re up, sweetheart."

You sighed, tapping your fingers against the pile of chips in front of you. "Damn shame. I was on a roll."

The dealer looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to play your turn. You flashed him a lazy smile. No use getting greedy.

With calculated ease, you leaned back in your chair, letting your eyes drift toward the entrance.

Seojun strolled inside like he owned the place—which, technically, he did. A sharp navy-blue suit, rings glinting under the casino lights, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face. But your attention wasn’t on him.

It was on the man walking beside him.

Broad shoulders. Black suit. Cold expression. The personal bodyguard. And more importantly, the passkey clipped discreetly to his belt.

Simple in design, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. But you were.

"Try not to drool," Wooyoung’s voice cut in through the earpiece, amused.

You didn’t miss a beat. "Try not to cry when I outdo you, pretty boy."

Mingi’s low chuckle hummed through the comms. Wooyoung scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, just hurry up and do your thing."

You smirked, but your attention stayed on your target.

Seojun was already moving toward the VIP section, his guard following like a shadow. You pushed back from the table, grabbing your winnings, and made your way toward the bar instead.

The moment Seojun stopped to greet another guest, you moved.

One of the waitresses passed by, carrying a tray of expensive cocktails. You bumped into her—just slightly—just enough to send one of the glasses tipping. She gasped, catching it before it spilled completely, but the motion sent her staggering right into the bodyguard.

A sharp inhale as cold liquid spilled down his sleeve. He turned, annoyed, swiping at his jacket as the waitress flustered out apologies.

You moved then. A step forward. A brush of fingers. The passkey slipped free from his belt and into your sleeve in less than two seconds.

A slow smirk tugged at your lips. "Passkey secured," you murmured under your breath, already making your way toward the back.

"Show-off," Wooyoung muttered.

—The office was too clean. Rich mahogany desk, sleek leather chairs, an expensive globe that definitely had some hidden contraption inside. But your focus wasn’t on any of that. Your focus was on the safe.

It was exactly where Hongjoong said it would be—behind the bar shelf. A high-tech model, sleek steel, keypad glowing in the dim light. You crouched in front of it, exhaling slowly.

"Alright," you muttered to yourself, scanning the room. "If I were an arrogant bastard, where would I hide my secrets?"

You started with the desk—flipping through papers, checking drawers. Then the liquor shelf—bottles arranged in obnoxiously perfect symmetry. Nothing

You clenched your jaw, heart pounding a little faster. You didn’t have time for this.

"Hurry it up," Hongjoong’s voice crackled in your ear.

"Yeah, I totally wasn’t planning on taking my time and sipping some whiskey while I’m at it," you snapped back. You could hear Wooyoung laughing in the background.

Then, just as frustration was starting to creep in, your eyes landed on a small, glass plaque on the desk.

Seojun’s name, etched in gold. You picked it up, flipping it over and there it was. A small, handwritten note, barely noticeable.

7482.

You grinned. Idiot.

Moving quickly, you punched in the numbers, the safe letting out a soft click as it unlocked. You pulled it open, snatching the small USB drive from inside.

Done. Easy.

Then, Footsteps. Right outside the door.

Your stomach dropped. "Shit," you whispered.

"What?" Hongjoong’s voice came sharp through the earpiece.

"You said the guards weren’t supposed to check this floor for another two hours."

A groan. "They weren’t."

"Then tell me why they’re right outside the damn door?"

Then Jongho’s voice, cursing. "Where the hell is Mingi?"

Seonghwa gritted his teeth, "Gambling."

You almost choked. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Are we even surprised?" Wooyoung said, voice dripping with amusement. "I told you not to bring him to the casino. He always gets distracted."

"Shut up and get her out of there," Yunho muttered.

You weren’t listening anymore. The voices outside were getting closer.

Your eyes darted across the room, searching—anything. And then—

A window.

You ran towards it, pushing it open, cold air immediately slamming against your skin. The city lights stretched out below, cars honking, the distant murmur of life continuing completely unaware that you were about to risk breaking your neck.

Clutching the USB drive in one hand, you gripped the edge of the window, stepping onto the thin ledge. The wind was brutal, cutting through the fabric of your dress. Your heels scraped against the ledge as you tried to steady yourself—you stumbled, catching yourself at the last second.

A series of very creative curses spilled from your lips.

Yunho scoffed. "Never heard anyone swear this much before."

San’s voice, slightly amused. "Where are you?"

You took a shaky breath, gripping the pillar beside you as your balance wavered.

"One step away from death."

—The team was already waiting by the van, gathered in a loose semicircle under the dim glow of the streetlights. The tension was thick, but not because they were worried. But because they were arguing.

"I told you—don’t bring Mingi to the casino."

"Okay, but in my defense—"

"There is no defense!" Seonghwa snapped, arms crossed, looking dangerously close to smacking Mingi upside the head. "You were supposed to be watching for security! Not—not placing bets on a damn poker table!"

Mingi shrugged, completely unbothered. "I was winning."

"You—!" Seonghwa inhaled sharply, turning away like he needed a moment to pray for patience.

Wooyoung, meanwhile, was losing it. Laughing so hard he had to lean against Yunho for support. "You were right, hyung. This is why we don’t bring him here."

"Like watching a child," Jongho muttered, shaking his head.

Yeosang, who had been silently scrolling through his iPad the entire time, finally looked up. "Where is she?"

"Maybe she sold us," San suggested, only half-joking.

Jongho scoffed. "Or maybe she got caught."

"Or maybe she died," Wooyoung added, grinning like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Jongho tilted his head, considering. "Honestly, I’d prefer that over the first option."

"Wow, thanks," came a hoarse voice from behind them.

All eight of them turned in perfect sync.

There you were, leaning heavily against a metal pipe, completely disheveled. Hair a mess, dress wrinkled, breathing like you just ran a marathon.

Hongjoong blinked. "What the hell happened to you?"

You glared, lifting your hand. The USB drive dangled between your fingers. "I got the damn drive," you said, voice dry. "And almost died in the process, by the way. In case anyone cares."

"Nope," Jongho said immediately.

"Not really," Wooyoung added, smirking.

You rolled your eyes, shoving the drive into Hongjoong’s hand. "Next time, if you’re gonna send me on a mission, don’t let the walking skyscraper near a poker table."

"Hey," Mingi muttered. "It was a good game."

Hongjoong turned the USB over between his fingers, watching the way the dim light reflected off its smooth surface. He looked too pleased with himself, like he was holding a winning card no one else had seen.

You were still catching your breath when he finally spoke. "You know," he mused, voice casual, "this drive is useless."

Your heartbeat, still erratic from your near-death stunt, stumbled. "What?"

Hongjoong smirked, tapping the USB against his palm. "There’s nothing in it. It was a test."

Your body stiffened, exhaustion momentarily forgotten. A test? Your fingers curled at your sides as you processed.

The impossible ease of this mission. The predictable guard patterns. The fact that Hongjoong never seemed remotely concerned, even when you almost got caught.

"You’re telling me," you said slowly, voice colder than before, "that I just risked my life… for a test?"

Hongjoong gave a small tilt of his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. "The casino belongs to us. Seojun works for me."

You felt stupid. A slow, creeping anger slithered into your chest. How did you not see it? It made sense. Too much sense.

"Don’t look so shocked," Yeosang muttered from behind his iPad, not even bothering to look up. "It was necessary."

"Yeah," Wooyoung chimed in, arms crossed, grinning. "We had to make sure you wouldn’t run or sell us out the second you got the chance."

Jongho let out a short laugh. "Would’ve been funny if she tried, though."

San shook his head, smirking. "Nah. She’s not that dumb."

"You sure?" Yunho teased. "She did almost break her neck back there."

A sharp, burning frustration coiled in your stomach. You wanted to lash out, to snap something reckless—but you bit down on your tongue.

They were still the men who kidnapped you.

But at the same time… you couldn’t exactly blame them. It was smart. If you had been in their position, you might’ve done the same thing.

"You all suck," you muttered, narrowing your eyes.

Wooyoung grinned. "On the bright side, you’re not dead."

You inhaled slowly, forcing yourself to calm down.

"You got anything else planned for me?" you asked, voice clipped.

Hongjoong just smirked, slipping the USB into his pocket. "We’ll see."

With those two words, the conversation was over. The others started piling into the van, still amused by your reaction. You, on the other hand, were doing your best not to show just how embarrassed you were.

Without a word, you headed straight for the first seat—the one nearest to the door but furthest from them.

The van was huge, almost a mini-bus, with rows of seats stretching all the way to the back where the seven men sprawled comfortably. Too comfortably. Meanwhile, you sank into your seat, arms crossed, staring out the window like it personally offended you.

The van started moving.

Streetlights blurred past as you glared outside, jaw clenched. You still couldn’t believe it.

A damn test.

Every risk, every second of near-death, the whole mission—just one elaborate way to see if you’d run. And the worst part? It made sense. You were angry at them, but you were even angrier at yourself for not seeing it sooner.

A small scoff broke your thoughts.

You turned slightly—just enough to see Hongjoong leaning over the seat beside you, arms folded against the backrest, smirking.

"You look pissed," he mused.

"You don’t say," you muttered.

He chuckled, but instead of replying, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

Antiseptic cream.

You blinked at it before realizing—your palms. You hadn’t even noticed, but the skin was scraped raw, a painful souvenir from your little stunt on the pipes.

You hesitated, but then snatched the tube from him without a word.

Hongjoong didn’t move. Just stayed there, watching as you carefully applied the cream, the slight sting making you wince.

Finally, he spoke. "You handled yourself well tonight."

You scoffed. "Yeah, because I love almost dying for no reason."

Hongjoong hummed, clearly amused. "Don’t be so dramatic, sweetheart."

You didn’t dignify that with a response.

Instead, you finished applying the cream, shoving the cap back on a little too aggressively before tossing it back to him. He caught it easily, rolling it between his fingers.

Just when you thought he was finally going to leave you alone, you saw him shrug off his suit jacket.

You barely had time to process it before he threw it at you. You blinked, staring down at the expensive black fabric now draped over your lap.

"You’re shivering," he said simply, pushing himself off the seat.

"I’m—" You stopped. Okay, fine. Maybe you were cold. The dress you were given was meant to look nice, not keep you warm.

Still, you rolled your eyes. "What, suddenly feeling generous?"

Hongjoong just smirked. "Don’t get used to it."

And with that, he turned, heading back to the others.

You exhaled, glancing down at the jacket in your hands. It smelled like cologne and gunpowder.

For a second, you considered leaving it there. But then you sighed and pulled it on, letting the warmth sink into your skin.

—The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the silence.

For a split second, you forgot where you were. The bed beneath you was too soft, the air too still, the faint scent of expensive cologne and leather lingering in the sheets. Your eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the dim morning light filtering through the heavy curtains. The room was unfamiliar—but not in a way that made you panic.

Right. Hongjoong had given you a room.

Now that you were technically part of the team, you weren’t stuck in a cell anymore. The room wasn’t extravagant, but compared to some of the places you’d slept in before—abandoned buildings, dirty motel rooms, street corners when things got bad—it was more than enough. A clean bed, fresh clothes, a door that locked from the inside. That was already more than you ever had.

But your moment of peace didn’t last long.

A loud knock on the door made your body jolt into high alert, your instincts snapping back into place. Before you could even sit up properly, the door swung open.

"Wake up," a voice said flatly.

You blinked. Yeosang stood in the doorway, looking as unbothered as ever, one hand gripping an iPad, the other resting against the doorframe. His expression was unreadable, sharp eyes scanning you like he was making sure you were still alive.

"Excuse me?" you muttered, voice rough from sleep.

He raised an eyebrow. "Hongjoong says to meet him at the practice arena. I’m just the messenger."

You frowned, trying to push yourself up, still groggy. "The practice what now?"

Yeosang sighed, clearly already over this conversation. "Training grounds, whatever you want to call it. Get up. He’s waiting."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked off, not bothering to make sure you followed..

You groaned, running a hand through your hair before dragging yourself out of bed. If you had any hope of keeping up with these people, you couldn’t afford to waste time.

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself stepping into what could only be described as a personal fight club.

The underground practice arena was bigger than you expected—high ceilings, concrete walls, various training equipment scattered throughout. A boxing ring sat in the center, but what caught your attention was the man standing near the weights, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted the wraps on his hands.

Hongjoong.

He wasn’t in his usual expensive suits today. Instead, he wore a loose black tank top and sweatpants, his toned arms on full display. He looked relaxed.

His gaze flicked up when he heard you approach, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Took you long enough."

You folded your arms, giving him a look. "I wasn’t exactly expecting an early morning brawl."

He chuckled, motioning for you to step closer. "You’re going to need to learn how to fight properly. Pickpocketing and running won’t always save you."

You huffed but stepped forward anyway. "I do know how to fight."

"Sure," Hongjoong mused, tilting his head. "But I want to see it for myself."

He gestured toward the ring, and you sighed, stepping inside. The second you did, the atmosphere shifted. It was just the two of you now.

"You think you can take me?" he asked, rolling his shoulders.

You smirked. "I think I can surprise you."

"Then try."

Your feet barely made a sound as you closed the distance, aiming straight for his ribs with a sharp jab. But Hongjoong wasn’t just fast—he was anticipating you. He sidestepped smoothly, barely shifting his weight before he was behind you.

"Too slow," he muttered.

You spun around, adjusting your stance. Fine. If speed wouldn’t work, you’d try something else.

This time, you faked a punch, using the momentum to aim a kick at his side instead. It almost landed—but Hongjoong caught your ankle with ease, his grip firm but not crushing.

"Clever," he mused, tilting his head. "But predictable."

He shoved your leg away, throwing you off balance. You barely caught yourself before hitting the mat, breath coming a little faster now. But you weren’t done.

Your fist shot toward his jaw, only for him to duck effortlessly, his body moving like he had all the time in the world. And then—before you could react—his foot hooked behind your ankle, and your world tilted.

A sharp thud echoed as your back hit the mat.

You barely had time to process before Hongjoong was on top of you, pinning you down with one knee pressing against your thigh, hands gripping your wrists. His face hovered dangerously close, eyes glinting with something between amusement and control.

"Not bad," he murmured. "But not good enough."

You swallowed hard, refusing to look away. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

He smirked, clearly enjoying this.

"You rely too much on speed," he continued, voice unhurried, as if he wasn’t holding you down effortlessly. "And instinct. It works on amateurs. But against someone trained?" His grip tightened slightly before he let go. "It’ll get you killed."

The second he released you, you rolled onto your feet, muscles aching from the fall. You expected him to gloat, but instead, he simply dusted off his hands, tilting his head slightly.

"You want to learn?"

You hesitated for only a second before giving a small nod.

"Good."

He grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward. You barely had time to react before your chest nearly collided with his, breath hitching at the sudden proximity. His grip was firm, but not crushing. Guiding. Before you could flinch away, he spun you around, pressing your back to his chest, his arms looping over yours in a controlled lock.

"Lesson one," he murmured, his breath ghosting against your ear. "Control."

Your muscles tensed on instinct. His hold wasn’t painful, but you couldn’t move. Every shift of your body pressed you further against him, the heat of his skin impossibly close through the thin fabric of your clothes.

"Getting caught in a hold like this means you’re already losing."

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching at your sides.

"Now," he continued, voice almost amused, "let’s see if you can get out."

You clenched your jaw, shifting your weight, trying to maneuver an escape. But Hongjoong’s grip was calculated—his arms tightening just enough whenever you tried to break free.

"Struggling won’t work," he murmured, his lips close enough that you felt every syllable. "Use their hold against them."

Instead of fighting his grip head-on, you shifted your stance, leaning into him rather than away. It was enough to make his weight shift, just barely—and in that split second, you twisted, slipping out of his grasp.

You stumbled back, chest rising and falling as you turned to face him.

Hongjoong just smirked. "Better."

You barely had time to catch your breath before he moved again.

This time, he came at you directly, his palm pressing against your shoulder to push you off balance. You caught yourself before falling, swiping at his legs in retaliation—but he jumped back smoothly, anticipating you again.

"Too slow," he taunted.

Your frustration flared, and you lunged again—only for him to catch your wrist mid-motion.

Before you knew it, he had twisted your arm behind your back, pressing you forward until your chest nearly touched the mat. His hand rested just above your hip, keeping you trapped in place, while the other held your arm firmly in position.

"You're fast," he murmured, low, almost mocking. "But you let yourself get frustrated. That’s a weakness."

You glared at the floor, lips parting slightly as you exhaled sharply through your nose. He was right. And that irritated you even more.

But before you could retaliate, Hongjoong suddenly let go. The second his grip loosened, you spun around—expecting him to step back.

He didn’t and you were suddenly too close. Your chest almost brushed his as you stopped abruptly, your breath catching in the tight space between you. His dark eyes locked onto yours, sharp and unreadable.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

Hongjoong wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t laughing. He was just watching you, his gaze dark and steady, his breathing even. He was close. Too close. The weight of his body was warm, grounding, a sharp contrast to the chill of the gym air against your sweat-damp skin. Every small movement made you aware of just how little space there was between you.

You weren’t sure how long you stood like that—seconds, maybe longer.

"Get some rest," he murmured, stepping back. "We’ll try again tomorrow."

—The night was quiet—too quiet. Missions like these never went as planned, but tonight, something felt off from the start.

You stood with the others in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse, the air thick with gasoline and metal. The plan was simple: retrieve a shipment that belonged to them but had been stolen by a rival gang. Get in, grab it, and get out. No unnecessary bloodshed.

At least, that’s what you thought.

"Keep your comms open," Hongjoong murmured, adjusting the sleeves of his black jacket as he surveyed the surroundings. His voice was calm, but you’d been around him long enough to recognize when he was on edge.

Seonghwa was the first to move, his steps silent as he disappeared into the shadows. Yeosang stood beside you, scrolling through something on his damn iPad, completely unbothered. Jongho checked his gun, casting you a skeptical glance.

"Try not to mess this up, darling," Wooyoung teased through the earpiece, earning himself a smack from San.

You rolled your eyes, adjusting the hidden blade strapped to your thigh. You didn’t need weapons. Your hands were fast enough. But something told you tonight might be different.

Then, just as Yunho signaled that the coast was clear, everything went to hell.

Gunfire. Loud, sharp, and too close.

"Fucking hell," Mingi cursed, diving behind a stack of crates as bullets rained down on you. The rival gang had been waiting. You had walked straight into a trap.

"Get down!" Hongjoong barked, shoving you behind a metal container as more bullets whizzed past. The others were already fighting back—Jongho and Seonghwa taking out enemies one by one with brutal efficiency.

You could handle yourself in a fight. You had to. Years of surviving on the streets made you quick on your feet, a ghost when you needed to be. You weaved through the chaos, using your knife to disable anyone who got too close.

But then you saw him.

A man—one of the rival gang members—cornering Yunho, gun raised. You moved before you thought.

You ran, tackling the man before he could pull the trigger. The impact sent both of you crashing to the ground. Your knife was against his throat in an instant.

The man’s eyes were wide, terrified. His breathing was ragged, a silent plea forming on his lips. Kill him. That’s what Hongjoong would expect. That’s what everyone would expect.

But you couldn’t.

Your grip faltered. The hesitation lasted a second too long.

Pain exploded in your side as the man’s fist collided with your ribs, knocking the air out of your lungs. You stumbled, hand flying to your waist—he had a knife. You barely had time to react before he was on you again, and suddenly, you weren’t the one in control anymore.

A gunshot rang out. You flinched, but the bullet wasn’t meant for you.

The man collapsed, a clean shot to his skull. Hongjoong stood behind him, gun still raised.

Your chest heaved as you stared at the body, your mind racing.

Hongjoong’s jaw was tight as he grabbed your wrist, yanking you to your feet. His grip was bruising, fingers digging into your skin as he dragged you away from the fight.

"Move," he snapped, shoving you toward the exit.

The others were still fighting, but Hongjoong didn’t care. His priority was getting you the hell out of there.

The second you were inside the van, you ripped your wrist from his grip.

"What the fuck was that?" you spat, eyes burning with anger. The rest of the boys filed in behind you, panting, bruised, but alive. Wooyoung took the driver's seat, starting the engine.

Hongjoong turned to you, and for the first time since you met him, he looked furious.

"You hesitated," he said, voice dangerously low.

"I’m not a fucking killer," you snapped back, still breathing hard.

Hongjoong let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "You think this is a joke?"

"I think you knew exactly what I was before you forced me into this mess," you shot back. "I’m a thief. I don’t kill people."

"You almost died," he growled, stepping closer. "Because you hesitated."

"It’s my problem," you hissed.

He was in front of you now, too close, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

"You," he said, voice like a blade against your throat, "are my problem."

"You don’t get to choose which parts of this life you accept," he continued, voice softer now but no less threatening. "If you’re with us, you do what’s necessary. Or you die."

You clenched your jaw. "I won’t cross that line."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. Then, he chuckled—not amused, but something else.

"Then you better get faster, sweetheart," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your skin. "Because next time, I might not be there to save you."

—The second the van stopped, you shoved the door open and jumped out first, ignoring the weight of their stares burning into your back. You could still feel Hongjoong’s words curling around your throat like a noose. You’re my problem.

No, I’m your damn thief.

Your boots hit the pavement harder than necessary as you stormed inside the building. The hallway was dim, only a few overhead lights buzzing faintly, casting long shadows against the walls. You barely registered the familiar space—just another reminder that you were here now. Trapped.

You reached your room, pushing the door open with too much force, and slammed it shut behind you.

Your breath was still ragged as you sat down on the bed, palms pressing into your thighs. The adrenaline was wearing off now, leaving behind the weight of what had just happened.

You swallowed hard, fingers gripping the sheets as you tried to steady yourself. But no matter how many deep breaths you took, it didn’t erase the fact that you had frozen. That in this world, hesitation got you killed.

Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed shut.

Hongjoong.

Probably in his office, brooding like the dramatic bastard he was. You weren’t surprised. He was pissed, and for once, so were you.

A knock at your door snapped you out of your thoughts.

You didn’t answer. You weren’t in the mood. Didn’t matter. The door creaked open anyway.

Yunho.

Unlike the others, he didn’t lean against the frame with a smirk or crack a joke to lighten the mood. He simply walked in, calm and steady, shutting the door behind him before crossing the room and leaning against the dresser.

"You okay?"

You scoffed. "Do I look okay?"

Yunho didn’t react to the bite in your tone. He just crossed his arms, watching you for a moment before sighing.

"You’re lucky to be alive."

You let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, thanks to Hongjoong’s great aim."

Yunho tilted his head slightly, as if debating what to say next. Then, he pushed off the dresser and sat down beside you on the bed.

"You know he cares about you, right?"

You rolled your eyes. "He cares that he’d lose his best thief."

Yunho huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. "Maybe. But that’s not all."

Silence stretched between you. You refused to look at him, eyes trained on the floor, on your hands—anything but the truth in his words.

Yunho sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "Look. I get it. I know what it’s like, the first time you hesitate." He paused. "The first time you have to make that choice."

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the fabric of your pants.

"I don’t want to make that choice."

Yunho let that sit for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. "You will."

You turned to look at him now, finally meeting his eyes.

"Because if you don’t," he continued, "you won’t survive here."

The words sat heavy in your chest.

"Just… think about it," Yunho murmured, standing up.

He walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. "You’re good at what you do," he said, turning back to you. "But Hongjoong won’t always be there to save you."

Then, without another word, he left.

You sat there for a long time, staring at the closed door, feeling the weight of everything settle on your shoulders.

—The room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the desk lamp casting sharp shadows against the walls. A half-empty glass of whiskey sat beside Hongjoong’s hand, his fingers tapping against the polished wood in a slow, irritated rhythm. His jacket was discarded over the chair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he leaned back, jaw clenched.

Seonghwa stood near the door, arms crossed. Unlike the others, he didn’t hesitate before speaking. "You’re being too hard on her."

Hongjoong exhaled through his nose, not even looking up. "No, I’m being realistic."

"You’re being an ass."

That finally made Hongjoong glance up. His dark eyes glinted under the light, amusement flickering for a second before fading just as fast. "She hesitated, Hwa. Almost got herself killed. Almost got us killed."

Seonghwa sighed, stepping further into the room. "She’s not a killer, Joong. She’s a thief."

"And thieves who hesitate get caught. Or worse." Hongjoong’s voice was sharp, the words laced with frustration. He picked up his glass, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip. "She needs to learn."

"She is learning." Seonghwa’s voice was firm, unyielding. "But you don’t train someone by throwing them into the deep end and getting mad when they drown."

Hongjoong didn’t respond right away, but the way his fingers gripped the glass just a little tighter didn’t go unnoticed.

"She’s not ready," Seonghwa continued, softer this time. "You and I both know that."

Hongjoong sighed, tilting his head back slightly, eyes closing for a moment before he finally set the glass down with a dull clink. "And what? I go easy on her?" He scoffed. "That’ll get her killed even faster."

"She’s strong."

"She’s stubborn."

Seonghwa gave him a pointed look. "So are you."

Hongjoong let out a dry chuckle, rubbing his temple. "She pisses me off."

Seonghwa smirked slightly. "Because she doesn’t bend to your will?"

Hongjoong opened his mouth, then shut it, glaring at the floor like it personally offended him.

Seonghwa sighed, finally taking a seat across from him. His voice was quieter now. "You saw what happened today. She couldn’t do it. And I don’t think it was just fear. That’s not who she is."

"And that’s exactly why she won’t survive here," Hongjoong muttered.

Seonghwa tilted his head. "Or maybe that’s why she will."

Hongjoong let those words hang between them, the weight of them settling in his chest. He didn’t respond, just reached for his glass again, taking another slow sip.

Seonghwa stood up. "Just… ease up a little." Hongjoong didn’t look at him.

"Why do you care so much?" Seonghwa pressed.

"I care about all of you." His voice was firm, immediate.

Seonghwa scoffed, shaking his head. "That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it." He took a step forward, eyes locking onto Hongjoong’s. "You don’t react like this with any of us. When one of us messes up, you get mad, sure, but not like this."

Hongjoong’s hands clenched at his sides, his shoulders squared, his expression unreadable.

Seonghwa took that as his cue to leave. But just as he reached the door, Hongjoong spoke again, voice quieter this time. "She needs to understand that hesitation is the difference between life and death."

Seonghwa glanced over his shoulder. "She will." A small pause. "But don’t push her to the point she stops trusting us altogether."

Then, without another word, he walked out, leaving Hongjoong alone with his thoughts.

—The knock on your door was sharp, deliberate—the kind that didn’t wait for an invitation. You barely had time to roll over in bed and groan before the door swung open, revealing Hongjoong standing in the doorway, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but you could still feel the weight of last night’s argument lingering between you.

"Get up," he said flatly.

You buried your face in your pillow. "Go away."

"You’re not getting a choice in this, sweetheart."

Your muscles tensed. You hated that nickname. It was never sweet—always mocking, always sarcastic. You sat up with a scowl, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "What do you want?"

Hongjoong leaned against the doorframe, the dim morning light casting shadows across his face. "If you refuse to kill, fine," he said. "But you need to learn how to shoot."

You frowned. "I have a knife."

His brow arched. "And if someone has a gun?"

You clenched your jaw. You hated that he had a point.

"Five minutes," he said before turning on his heel and walking off. Like he already knew you’d follow.

The shooting range was at the edge of the compound, hidden beneath an old warehouse that looked abandoned from the outside but was anything but. The space smelled of gunpowder and metal, the walls lined with various weapons. Hongjoong stood beside the table, checking the ammo in the pistol before sliding the magazine into place with a practiced ease.

You stood stiffly beside him, arms crossed, still annoyed that he’d dragged you here.

He handed you the gun, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. "You ever shot before?"

You snorted. "Do I look like someone who’s shot before?"

His lips twitched. "No. But it’d be nice if you surprised me for once."

You rolled your eyes and took the gun, but the second you raised it, he let out a sharp exhale.

"Wrong," he muttered. Then, before you could react, he was behind you.

You stiffened as his hands settled over yours, guiding your grip. He was warm—too warm. His voice was low near your ear, calm but firm.

"Loosen your shoulders," he said. His fingers ran along your arms, adjusting your stance. "You’re too stiff. You won’t hit shit like that."

Your jaw tightened, but you followed his lead. "Feet apart," he continued, nudging your foot slightly with his. "Bend your knees a little."

You exhaled slowly, adjusting yourself.

Hongjoong hummed in approval, his hands lingering a second too long before he finally stepped back. "Better," he said. "Now aim."

You lifted the gun again, trying to focus on the target ahead, but the weight of his stare was distracting.

"Relax your grip," he murmured. You adjusted your hold.

"Pull the trigger gently. Don’t jerk it."

You inhaled, bracing yourself before squeezing the trigger. The shot rang out, echoing through the range.

You missed. You groaned, lowering the gun.

Hongjoong clicked his tongue, stepping forward again. Too close again. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, adjusting your aim. You could feel his breath against your cheek.

Your eyes flickered to his, only to realize he was already looking at you.

The space between you was barely there, his hand still over yours. The world outside the shooting range felt like it didn’t exist. For a split second, neither of you spoke.

Then, just as quickly as it happened, Hongjoong cleared his throat and stepped back. "Try again," he said, voice carefully neutral.

You swallowed, gripping the gun a little tighter.

The shot rang out. This time, you hit the target.

Hongjoong smirked. "See? You might not be useless after all."

You glared at him. "Careful. I’m armed now."

He chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the table. "You’re still a long way from being dangerous, sweetheart."

You scowled. But when you turned back to the target, your hands weren’t shaking anymore.

—The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. You sat at the far end of the long conference table, arms crossed, staring at the blueprint of a luxurious penthouse sprawled across the surface. Another mission. Another mess you were being dragged into. The rest of the team was already gathered, some leaning against the walls, others sitting lazily in their chairs.

Hongjoong stood at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up, rings glinting under the low lighting. "We need the ledger," he started, tapping his finger against the blueprint. "It’s in Kang Jisoo’s private office. Second floor, past security, locked behind a biometric safe."

You frowned. "That sounds impossible."

"It is," Yeosang muttered, scrolling through his tablet like he couldn’t be bothered to be here. "Which is why you two are going in as his guests."

You blinked. "Who’s ‘you two’?"

Hongjoong didn’t even look up. "You and me."

"Wait, wait, wait," Wooyoung cut in, barely holding back a grin. "You’re telling me she and Hongjoong are going undercover as a couple?"

Your stomach twisted. "No way."

"You don’t have a choice," Hongjoong said smoothly, finally looking up at you. "Kang Jisoo only trusts couples. He has a soft spot for rich, in-love guests with money to burn. Any solo operatives would immediately raise suspicion."

San whistled, leaning back in his chair. "This is gonna be fun."

You ignored him, focusing on Hongjoong. "There has to be another way."

"There isn’t."

You gritted your teeth, heart pounding in frustration. This was the worst idea imaginable. You barely trusted Hongjoong, and now you were supposed to pretend to be some lovestruck couple?

Wooyoung nudged Seonghwa. "Oh, this is gonna be hilarious."

Seonghwa shot him a warning look. "Stay focused."

Ignoring the others, Hongjoong pushed a sleek black envelope across the table toward you. "Inside are the details. Our identities, our backstory, and everything Kang Jisoo needs to believe we’re the real deal."

You hesitated before picking it up. Your new name was printed neatly on the first page. Below it, in elegant cursive—‘Spouse: Kim Hongjoong.’

You wanted to burn it.

"How long do we have before we go in?" you asked tightly.

"Three days," Jongho said, arms crossed as he leaned against the table. "Enough time to get your story straight and make sure neither of you slip up."

You exhaled through your nose. "This is a terrible idea."

Hongjoong smirked. "It’s an effective one."

Across the room, Yunho sighed. "Try not to kill each other before the mission starts, yeah?"

No promises.

—You sat stiffly on the couch, flipping through the file in your hands for what felt like the hundredth time. Across from you, Hongjoong lounged in an armchair, legs crossed, looking completely at ease. Of course he was. He wasn’t the one about to get grilled like a schoolkid cramming for an exam.

The others were scattered around the room, some leaning against the walls, others perched on furniture, all of them way too excited about this.

"Alright, lovebirds," Wooyoung grinned, spinning a pen between his fingers. "Let’s see how believable this marriage is."

You groaned. "This is ridiculous."

"Ridiculous would be getting caught because you don’t know your own husband’s birthday," Yeosang muttered, still scrolling through his tablet.

You scowled at him, then flipped to the section labeled ‘Personal Details’. You were supposed to be married to Hongjoong for three years. Met at a gallery in Paris. He proposed on a yacht. All the details were laid out, but they felt foreign—like wearing someone else’s skin.

"Let’s start easy," Yunho said. "What’s your anniversary?"

You glanced down at the file. "April 14th."

Hongjoong hummed. "Good. Where did we go for our honeymoon?"

"Maldives," you answered smoothly.

Jongho leaned forward. "What’s his favorite drink?"

You paused. Shit. You had skimmed that part, assuming it wouldn’t come up.

Seonghwa sighed. "If you don’t even know that, how are you supposed to convince Kang Jisoo that you’re in love?"

You clenched your jaw, taking a wild guess. "Whiskey?"

"Wrong," Hongjoong said, tilting his head. "Negroni."

You glared at him. "Who even drinks that?"

"I do," he said smugly.

Wooyoung snorted. "This is gonna be a disaster."

"Alright," Seonghwa finally cut in, probably to save you from having a mental breakdown. "We should wrap this up. But you two need to get better at this. You slip up once, and the whole operation goes to hell."

"You memorized everything already, didn’t you?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at Hongjoong.

He merely smirked, tapping his temple. "I don’t like losing."

You swore under your breath. This was going to be a long mission.

—The morning of the mission, you were rudely awakened by a sharp knock on your door. You groaned, turning over in bed, pretending you hadn’t heard it. Maybe if you ignored it long enough, whoever it was would go away.

No such luck.

A second later, the door creaked open, and Seonghwa’s voice cut through the quiet. “Get up.”

You cracked open an eye to glare at him, only to groan again when you saw the bundle in his arms. A neatly folded, expensive-looking gown draped over his forearm.

“Oh, hell no.” You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “I am not wearing that.”

Seonghwa raised an unimpressed brow, stepping further into the room. “You’re infiltrating a high-profile event as Hongjoong’s fiancée. What did you expect? Jeans and a hoodie?”

“That would be ideal.”

Seonghwa sighed, tossing the dress onto the bed beside you. “You have twenty minutes to get ready.”

You scowled. “And if I don’t?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Then I’ll let Wooyoung come in here and dress you himself.”

You visibly shuddered at the thought. Wooyoung was many things—loud, irritating, way too smug for his own good—but above all, he was shameless. The last thing you needed was for him to burst into your room, waving around a curling iron and critiquing your ‘lack of class.’

“Fine,” you muttered, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. “But if I break an ankle in this thing, I’m haunting all of you.”

Seonghwa just smirked. “I’d like to see you try.”

The dress Seonghwa had given you was beautiful, sure—but it was also ridiculously difficult to put on. The deep emerald silk hugged your body perfectly, the slit high enough to allow movement but still elegant. The problem? The damn zipper.

You had been wrestling with it for the past five minutes, twisting your arms at unnatural angles, but it wouldn’t budge past the middle of your back. And, of course, in a house full of trained mafia members, none of them were exactly the kind of people you’d casually ask for help zipping up a dress.

You let out a sigh, debating if you could maybe just leave it halfway up when the door suddenly swung open without warning.

"You're taking forever," Hongjoong's voice came lazily as he stepped in, fixing his sleeve. "The car's ready, and—"

He stopped mid-sentence. You froze too, your bare back exposed to him as you stood in front of the mirror. Your hands instinctively gripped the front of the dress as if that would help, your breath catching in your throat.

His gaze locked onto yours through the reflection, his movements stilling completely. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

His tie matched your dress. You noticed it then, how the color blended perfectly, how intentional it felt.

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. His hands, usually so confident and sure, were unmoving at his sides.

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. "Zip me up?"

For the first time, he hesitated. Then, as if snapping himself out of it, he stepped forward. His approach was slow, almost cautious. The heat of his presence behind you made your spine stiffen, every nerve hyperaware of how close he was.

His fingers brushed your shoulder lightly as he reached forward, gathering your hair and sweeping it over one side. His touch was gentle—so unlike the Hongjoong you were used to. No calculated moves, no teasing smirk. Just a quiet, deliberate action.

You shivered, though you weren’t sure if it was from the chill or the sudden proximity.

He caught that. His lips quirked up for just a second before he reached for the zipper.

His knuckles skimmed against your spine as he pulled it up, the touch feather-light but enough to send an unfamiliar heat crawling up your neck. You kept your gaze locked onto the mirror, watching as his eyes followed the path of the zipper, his face unreadable.

When he reached the top, he didn’t step away immediately. His fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary before he finally let go.

"You’re done," he murmured, voice lower than usual.

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Hongjoong met your eyes in the mirror again, something unreadable flickering behind his usual sharp gaze. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving you standing there, heart hammering in your chest.

—The van was gone. Instead, a sleek black car sat waiting in the driveway, its polished surface gleaming under the dim streetlights. Hongjoong stood beside it, leaning against the passenger door, one hand tucked into his pocket while the other toyed absentmindedly with his cufflinks.

"You take longer than I expected," he mused as you approached, opening the car door for you.

You didn't respond, still reeling from the moment in the room just minutes ago. Instead, you slid into the passenger seat, smoothing the fabric of your dress as you adjusted yourself. Hongjoong walked around to the driver's side, settling in with a practiced ease before starting the car.

The engine purred to life, and with a smooth motion, he pulled out onto the road.

The silence stretched between you, tense and unspoken. You kept your gaze fixed on the window, watching the city blur past in streaks of neon lights and dark alleys. The entire drive had an eerie stillness to it—something about being in a car alone with Hongjoong made the air feel heavier, charged in a way you couldn’t explain.

After a few minutes, he finally broke the silence. "Nervous?" His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it.

You turned to look at him, expression neutral. "Should I be?"

He let out a quiet chuckle, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. "You tell me."

You rolled your eyes and went back to staring outside. The drive stretched on, the atmosphere shifting between charged silence and occasional glances from Hongjoong that you pretended not to notice.

At a red light, he leaned back in his seat, tilting his head toward you. "This is your first mission as part of the team. And your first time playing the role of my lover." His lips curled into a smirk. "Try not to look so disgusted by the idea."

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "I’d rather not think about it at all."

His smirk deepened. "You're a terrible liar."

You didn’t have a response to that, mostly because he wasn’t wrong. The idea of pretending to be his lover wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but admitting that was out of the question.

The car slowed as you approached the mansion’s long, winding driveway, the wrought-iron gates parting as if they had been expecting you. You took a deep breath, straightening your posture as the reality of the mission settled in.

"Just follow my lead," Hongjoong murmured, his voice lower now, more serious. "And don’t forget—we’re supposed to be madly in love."

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "I’ll try not to die from the excitement."

He just chuckled under his breath, pulling the car up to the grand entrance. "Welcome to the show, sweetheart."

The mansion loomed ahead, bathed in golden light that spilled from the massive chandeliers inside. The grand entrance was framed by towering marble pillars, and beyond the open doors, the warm glow of crystal chandeliers reflected off polished floors.

Couples dressed in the finest attire flowed effortlessly into the event, their laughter and hushed conversations blending into the soft melody of a live orchestra. The scent of expensive perfume and aged whiskey filled the air, wrapping around you like a second skin.

The second the car came to a stop, a valet stepped forward, bowing slightly before Hongjoong flicked the keys in his direction. "Don’t scratch it," he said smoothly, barely sparing the man a glance. The valet nodded, quickly taking the car and pulling away.

As you stepped out, the cool night air hit you, making you shiver slightly. The dress Seonghwa had picked was stunning, but practical? Not in the slightest. The slit ran high, teasing too much with each step, and the fabric clung in all the right ways, but the biting chill didn’t care about aesthetics.

Hongjoong rounded the car and came to stand beside you, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves before extending his arm. "Shall we?"

You hesitated for half a second before slipping your hand into the crook of his arm, fingers grazing the smooth fabric of his suit jacket. It was meant to be a simple gesture, something natural for a couple walking into an event like this. But the second your hand settled, he pulled you closer—so close you stumbled, your heel catching on the stone pavement.

Before you could react, Hongjoong steadied you with a firm grip, his other hand coming up to press lightly against your waist. Your noses nearly brushed, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned in ever so slightly.

"It has to look real," he whispered, his lips barely moving.

Your breath hitched, and for a second, neither of you moved. His eyes flickered over your face, sharp and unreadable, but something about the way he held you there made the world blur around you. The murmuring voices, the distant clinking of champagne glasses—it all faded.

You forced yourself to exhale, nodding slightly. "Right. Real."

His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, but close. Then, with a final squeeze to your waist, he pulled away just enough to lead you forward.

Hongjoong’s grip on your arm remained steady, guiding you through the sea of people with practiced ease. He belonged here—he moved like someone who knew he was untouchable, every step controlled, every glance carrying weight.

You, on the other hand, were hyper-aware of everything. The way the air buzzed with hidden agendas. The way eyes lingered a second too long. And most importantly, the way Hongjoong's fingers pressed lightly against your waist, keeping you grounded in a room full of sharks.

"You’re doing fine," he murmured near your ear, his voice low enough that no one else could hear. "Just smile, sweetheart. Pretend you like me a little."

You let out a breathy scoff, tilting your head up at him just slightly. "That’s pushing it."

He only chuckled, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk. "Fake it better, then."

Before you could roll your eyes, before you could even think of a sharp response, his arm slid away from yours—only to wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The movement was smooth, natural, as if he had done it a thousand times before. And maybe he had, just not with you.

Your breath hitched for a fraction of a second, and you knew he noticed. Of course, he did. His fingers pressed lightly into the fabric of your dress, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin. He was claiming you in the most effortless way, a silent announcement to the room that you were his for the night. His date, his partner, his distraction—whatever story they wanted to believe, Hongjoong was letting them.

The shift in attention was immediate. People who had been subtly watching before were now openly glancing in your direction, curious murmurs hidden behind crystal champagne flutes. Some eyes lingered with interest, others with suspicion.

"Relax," Hongjoong murmured, his voice a soft hum against your ear. "You’re supposed to enjoy this."

Enjoy? The sheer audacity of him. But you knew better than to stiffen under the weight of so many watchful eyes. So, you did what you had to. You leaned in, just slightly, tilting your head toward him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You're having way too much fun with this," you whispered back, your voice light, teasing, the way you imagined a woman in love would sound.

His thumb brushed against your waist, a barely-there touch, but enough to make your skin prickle. "If you’re going to play a role, sweetheart, you might as well play it well."

You smiled, a slow, knowing smile, tilting your chin up to look at him as if he had just whispered something sweet and not borderline condescending. The act was seamless, almost effortless, but it was still just that—an act.

"Lucky for you, I always play my roles well."

The words were meant to be smug, but Hongjoong only grinned, the kind of grin that said, we’ll see about that.

Hongjoong chuckled, amused, before taking a slow sip of his own drink. His eyes scanned the room, and you followed his gaze, recognizing the moment his expression sharpened ever so slightly. A man, mid-fifties, sharply dressed in a navy suit, was making his way toward you both.

Kang Jisoo. The owner of the estate. The man you were here to steal from.

Your fingers instinctively tightened around the delicate glass in your hand, but you kept your expression relaxed, the same way Hongjoong did. His grip around your waist subtly shifted, his fingers pressing slightly firmer against your hip, almost like a silent command to stay still, stay calm.

"Captain," Jisoo greeted, his tone light, casual, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that said he didn’t trust easily. He looked at you next, his gaze dragging over you like he was trying to figure something out.

Hongjoong smiled easily, a practiced smirk that barely reached his eyes. "Jisoo, I was wondering when you’d find me."

Jisoo let out a small chuckle, but his eyes never left yours. "And who’s this?"

"This," Hongjoong said smoothly, "is my darling."

You barely had a second to react before he turned toward you, his arm still securely wrapped around you as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. The touch was fleeting, but his breath lingered near your skin, warm, steady. A silent warning. Play along.

You exhaled slowly, schooling your features into something softer, something lovestruck, and turned your gaze to Jisoo. "I’ve heard a lot about you, Kang Jisoo," you said, voice smooth, perfectly polite. "My husband speaks highly of you."

Jisoo hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Is that so?" His tone was mild, but you could see the gears turning in his head. Suspicion.

Your pulse quickened, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you took a risk. One that might make or break the illusion.

You turned to Hongjoong, resting your hand lightly against his chest, your fingers grazing the fabric of his suit. Then, before you could second-guess it, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

It was brief, barely a touch, but when you pulled back, you caught the flicker of surprise in Hongjoong’s usually unreadable eyes.

Jisoo watched closely, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Hongjoong, to his credit, recovered fast. His grip on you tightened slightly, his hand sliding up your waist to rest just beneath your ribs. His smirk returned, this time more genuine.

Jisoo studied the two of you for a moment longer before nodding slowly, as if deciding to let it go. "Well, I hope you both enjoy the evening."

Hongjoong gave a short nod. "We will."

Jisoo walked away, but even as he disappeared into the crowd, you could feel the tension in Hongjoong’s posture. You glanced up at him, searching his expression.

"You didn’t have to do that," he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

You tilted your head slightly, feigning innocence. "Do what?"

His smirk returned, but this time, it was slower, more calculated. "You’ll pay for that later, sweetheart."

—The grand ballroom was alive with the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the soft melody of a string quartet. But your mind was elsewhere—focused on the second-floor office, hidden past layers of security and surveillance.

Hongjoong’s fingers barely brushed yours as he subtly tugged you toward the far end of the room, away from the main crowd. It was seamless, the way he maneuvered you both, weaving through guests like this was just another stroll at a gala.

As you neared the hallway leading toward the restricted area, his voice was low in your ear. “Cameras shift every ten seconds. We take the blind spot and move when the waiter passes. Act natural.”

You nodded slightly, fingers brushing the stem of your glass. Just two lovers sneaking off for a moment alone. Nothing suspicious.

The moment the waiter moved past, you both stepped into the hallway, slipping behind a curtain leading to the back corridors. The noise of the party dulled instantly, replaced by the soft hum of the security system.

"Left," Hongjoong whispered, leading the way down the hall. The lights here were dimmer, meant only for staff, but it worked in your favor.

The door to Jisoo’s private office was at the end of the hall, a sleek black panel with a biometric scanner. Hongjoong pulled out a small device from his jacket, attaching it to the scanner’s side. A small light flickered red, working its magic to bypass the system.

“You always this prepared?” you murmured, glancing at him.

His lips twitched. “You have no idea, sweetheart.”

A soft beep signaled the override, and the lock clicked open. Hongjoong pushed the door inward, stepping inside first, scanning the room before letting you follow.

The office was pristine—dark wood, leather, and a massive window overlooking the estate. But your focus was on the safe built into the wall behind the desk.

“Time’s ticking,” Hongjoong muttered, already moving toward it.

You kneeled, fingers brushing over the keypad. Biometric lock. You knew this already. That was why Hongjoong had procured a fingerprint mold beforehand. He handed it to you silently, eyes scanning the door as you pressed the gel-like material onto the scanner.

For a second, nothing happened. Then, the lock clicked open.

You exhaled, reaching in for the file, fingers closing around the thick folder. Just as you turned to Hongjoong—

Footsteps.

Your head snapped up. Hongjoong’s gaze darkened, sharp and alert. The hallway outside. Close. Too close.

Hongjoong grabbed your wrist and yanked you toward the corner of the room, where a barely-there gap between the bookshelf and the wall created the smallest possible hiding space. Before you could protest, he pulled you in, pressing both of you into the tight space.

You froze, barely daring to breathe. Hongjoong’s body was flush against yours, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm while your own heart pounded wildly. His arm curled around your waist, anchoring you against him, his fingers pressing firmly into the small of your back.

A flashlight beam swept across the room.

Hongjoong’s other hand moved—slow, deliberate. His fingertips ghosted over your lips, a silent command to stay quiet.

Your breathing hitched, eyes flickering up to meet his. Even in the dim light, you could see the sharp angles of his face, the way his gaze locked onto yours, unwavering. His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something, but he didn't.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was the soft hum of the security radio crackling from the guard outside.

Then, the light receded. The door shut again.

You swallowed, suddenly acutely aware of how close you still were. Hongjoong’s fingers hadn’t moved from your waist. His breath was warm against your cheek, his hand still lightly brushing your lips.

Slowly, you reached up, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, gently pulling his hand away.

“We should go,” you whispered.

His eyes lingered on yours for a second longer before he finally stepped back, exhaling softly. “Yeah.”

You turned, pushing down whatever lingering feeling had settled in your chest, and crept toward the door. The hallway was clear now, the guards seemingly moving along with their patrol. You exhaled slowly, trying to steady your nerves.

But as soon as you both stepped out, the sharp click of a safety being turned off made your blood run cold.

“Move, and I shoot.”

A guard stood at the far end of the hall, gun raised, finger hovering over the trigger. His eyes flickered between you and Hongjoong, narrowing with suspicion.

“Hands up,” he ordered.

Hongjoong, always smooth, barely even hesitated before lifting his hands slightly, his expression one of careful indifference. You followed suit, though your mind was already racing.

Hongjoong’s voice was eerily calm when he spoke. “Let’s not do anything rash. You don’t want to shoot. We don’t want to die. Let’s just talk—”

“Shut up.” The guard stepped forward, grip tightening around the gun. “I know who you are.”

Shit.

Hongjoong shifted slightly, positioning himself in front of you just the tiniest bit. The guard noticed. His lips curled.

“She’s important, huh?” he mused, taking another step closer. His gun tilted slightly, no longer pointed at Hongjoong’s chest but at yours. “I bet the boss would love to have a chat with her.”

You stiffened seeing Hongjoong’s jaw clenched. In the second that the guard’s attention was more on you, Hongjoong moved.

A sharp step forward, a twist of his wrist—his hand slammed into the guard’s arm, knocking the gun downward just as the trigger was pulled. A deafening crack echoed through the hallway as the bullet buried itself into the floor.

Then all hell broke loose.

Hongjoong was fast, but the guard was strong. They struggled, limbs tangling as Hongjoong fought for control of the weapon. Another shot fired into the ceiling. The sound was so loud in the enclosed space that your ears rang.

Your mind screamed at you to move, to do something—

But then it happened. The guard got the upper hand, twisting Hongjoong’s arm back with a sickening force. Hongjoong let out a sharp, pained grunt, his knees nearly buckling. The gun was turning, tilting—pointed right at him.

Before you could think, your fingers curled around the knife strapped to your thigh. One step forward. A swift, desperate movement. The blade slid between his ribs with no resistance.

The guard froze. His mouth opened—silent, stunned. Then, with a ragged exhale, he crumpled to the floor.

Dead.

The knife was still clutched in your trembling fingers, warm and slick. Blood coated your hands, thick and dark, staining your skin. It dripped onto the floor, pooling beneath the man who just seconds ago had been alive.

Hongjoong turned to you, rubbing his wrist, wincing slightly. But the moment he saw your expression—saw the way you were shaking, your eyes wide, horrified—he stepped closer.

“Hey—”

“I—I killed him.” Your voice was barely a whisper, strangled.

Hongjoong reached for you, but you stumbled back. Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps. Too fast. The walls felt like they were closing in. The blood—it was everywhere. On your fingers, under your nails. You couldn’t breathe.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Hongjoong said, his tone gentler now, softer. He grabbed your wrist, firm but careful. “Breathe.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, heart slamming against your ribs. You couldn’t stop looking at the body.

“I didn’t—I don’t—I don’t kill people,” you choked out.

“I know.” His voice was steady, unwavering. “You had to. It was him or us.”

You shook your head, still gasping, still shaking. “I—I can’t—”

Hongjoong cursed under his breath, then did the only thing he could think of—he grabbed both sides of your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Breathe,” he ordered. “Focus on me.”

His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, grounding you. His touch was warm, real. Not cold like the body behind you. His gaze was sharp, but not unkind.

“Listen to my voice,” he murmured. “You’re okay. You’re here. With me.”

You tried to match your breathing to his, tried to drown out the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Slowly, the panic ebbed, just enough for your vision to clear, for your lungs to expand again.

Hongjoong let out a breath of his own, relieved, but his hands didn’t move from your face. “We have to go,” he said. “Now.”

You nodded weakly, still unsteady.

He let go, stepping back only to pull off his jacket. He grabbed one of your hands, rubbing the blood off with the sleeve before slipping the coat over your shoulders, covering the rest of it.

“You’re okay,” he said again, quieter this time.

You didn’t believe it.

But you let him pull you away.

—Hongjoong didn’t waste a second. The moment you were steady enough to move, he grabbed your wrist and led you away from the body, his grip firm but not rough. His pace was quick, urgent, his eyes flickering around the hallway to make sure no one else had heard the gunshots or the fight. The mansion was still alive with music and laughter, but it wouldn’t be long before someone noticed the missing guard.

You barely processed anything as he guided you down the stairs, through the corridors, and out the side entrance. Your mind was still reeling, stuck on the image of the blood on your hands, the weight of the knife, the feeling of it piercing flesh.

Hongjoong’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts. “We’re almost there.”

The sleek black car sat at the far end of the driveway, out of the main view of the entrance. He didn’t let go of you, only releasing your wrist for a second to yank open the back door and toss the stolen file onto the seat. Then he turned back to you, his eyes flicking down, assessing.

“Get in,” he said, softer than before.

You didn’t argue, slipping into the passenger seat on autopilot. The moment the door shut, Hongjoong rounded the car, climbing in behind the wheel. Without hesitation, he started the engine, maneuvering out of the driveway with practiced ease, keeping his movements smooth, natural—like nothing had happened.

The mansion disappeared into the night behind you, but you barely noticed.

Your hands were still shaking. They rested on your knees, but the tremors wouldn’t stop, even as you tried to clench them into fists.

Hongjoong noticed immediately. His eyes flicked toward you before returning to the road, but then, without a word, his right hand reached over, covering yours. His palm was warm, steady, a grounding contrast to your trembling fingers.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the soft hum of the tires against the road, the occasional streetlight casting fleeting glows into the car.

“You did what you had to do,” he finally murmured, thumb absently brushing against your knuckles. “You saved me.”

Your throat felt tight, like something heavy was lodged there, something impossible to swallow. You didn’t respond, just stared at the way his fingers curled over yours, keeping you tethered.

Hongjoong sighed, rubbing his thumb in slow circles, as if coaxing you out of your daze. “You’re gonna be okay.”

You weren’t sure if you believed him. The weight of what you had done sat heavy in your chest, suffocating, pressing down on your ribs like a vice. Your hands were still stained, phantom blood lingering even after Hongjoong had wiped them clean with a cloth he found in the car. The scent of it clung to your skin, metallic and sickly sweet.

You didn’t even realize when the mansion came into view. The headlights cut through the dark, illuminating the grand entrance as the car rolled to a smooth stop.

The moment the engine shut off, you reached for the door, pushing it open with shaking fingers. You just needed to get inside—to your room. To scrub your hands raw, to tear off the dress that now felt suffocating against your skin, to forget the feeling of the knife plunging into flesh.

As the mansion doors swung open, you barely registered the group waiting inside. The others were all there—standing in the living room, their faces unreadable. Some looked concerned, others wary. Their postures stiffened when they saw you, their eyes flicking between you and Hongjoong, as if trying to gauge the situation.

Seonghwa was the first to rise fully from his seat, brows furrowing as he stepped forward. "What happened—"

You stormed past them, heels clicking sharply against the marble floors, the weight of Hongjoong’s jacket slipping off one shoulder. The room felt too bright, too open. You needed to get out of there.

Hongjoong didn’t stop you. But you could feel his eyes on your back as you disappeared down the hall.

—The door slammed shut behind you, rattling in its frame. You barely noticed. Your fingers trembled as you reached behind you, dragging the zipper of the dress down with jerky, uneven movements. It slipped off your shoulders, pooling at your feet in a heap of expensive fabric. You stepped out of it, barely feeling the cold air against your skin, barely feeling anything at all.

The bathroom was silent except for your shallow breathing as you turned the shower knob, watching as water cascaded down, steam curling into the air. You stepped under it without hesitation, letting the scorching heat sting your skin, letting it scald away the remnants of tonight.

Blood.

It wasn’t there anymore—you had scrubbed it off in the car, had wiped it away—but you could still see it, feel it, seeping into your skin, under your nails, staining you in a way you weren’t sure would ever fade. Your chest felt tight, the memory flashing behind your eyes like a cruel replay. The blade sinking in, the way his body jerked, the sound—God, the sound.

You pressed your forehead against the tiled wall, eyes squeezing shut. You weren’t supposed to do that. That wasn’t who you were. You were a thief, not a murderer. But when you saw him coming for Hongjoong, when you saw the gun raised, the look in his eyes, you hadn’t thought. You had just… moved.

You saved him.

It hit you all at once, the truth settling in like a weight pressing on your chest. If you hadn’t acted, Hongjoong would have been the one on the floor. Not breathing. Not alive.

You inhaled shakily, letting the realization crash over you.

You killed someone.

But you saved him.

The water poured over you, washing away everything but the one thing you couldn’t shake.

The fact that, if you had to, you would do it again.

—Hongjoong had been thinking about your reaction the whole drive back. He had seen fear before—lived in it, caused it—but the way it had taken over your face tonight, the way your hands had shaken, the way your breath had come out in sharp, broken gasps, was different. It wasn’t fear of dying. It wasn’t fear of pain. It was fear of what you had done. Of yourself.

You didn’t belong in his world.

The thought sat heavy in his chest, unwanted, undeniable. He had always known it—always known you were different, that you weren’t built for this life the way he and the others were. But seeing it tonight, seeing the horror in your eyes as you looked down at your own hands, had made something twist inside him.

He didn’t like it.

You looked better when you were scowling at him, rolling your eyes, throwing some sarcastic remark his way. You looked better when you were annoyed, when you were pushing back, when you weren’t afraid of him or anything else. But tonight, you had looked small. Shaken. Quiet.

And Hongjoong hated that.

With a sigh, he found himself outside your door, hesitating for only a second before knocking.

No response. He knocked again, a little firmer this time. When there was still no answer, he opened the door, stepping inside carefully.

You were sitting on the bed, your legs pulled up slightly, hair damp and clinging to your skin. Your face was still flushed from the heat of the shower, but your eyes… your eyes looked hollow. Distant.

Hongjoong exhaled softly, leaning against the doorframe.

He really, really didn’t like seeing you like this.

For the first time in weeks, Hongjoong felt something close to regret settle in his chest. He had done this to you. He had taken you from whatever life you had, dragged you into this world, forced you to play a game you never signed up for. And for weeks, he had justified it—told himself you’d be fine, that you were strong, that you were smart. That you’d adapt.

But tonight had proved what he had been denying since the day he forced you into this life.

You weren’t meant to be here.

You weren’t a killer.

You weren’t like him.

Hongjoong had seen you fight, had seen you steal, had seen you navigate situations with quick thinking and sharp words. But he had never seen you with blood on your hands. He had never seen your face shatter the way it did tonight, never seen you look so lost, so utterly destroyed by what you had done. And he had been the one to put you in that position.

He forced a breath out, running a hand through his hair. “You should go.”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide, brows furrowing. “What?”

“You should leave,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time. “Go back to your life. Before all of this.”

You stared at him like he had lost his mind. “Are you serious?”

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched. “Dead serious.”

You exhaled sharply, standing up so fast the bed creaked beneath you. “So that’s it? You just decide I don’t belong here, and suddenly I have to go?”

His expression hardened. “You don’t belong here.”

“Oh, really?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “That’s funny, considering you didn’t seem to give a shit about that when you kidnapped me.”

His stomach twisted. He didn’t have a defense for that.

You took a step closer, your voice rising. “You forced me into this. You made me a part of this world. And now that I actually did something that saved your life, you decide it’s too much for me?”

His eyes snapped to yours. “You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“But I did,” you shot back. “And I would do it again.”

Something in his chest cracked. Hongjoong shook his head, looking away. “This isn’t you. You’re not like us. You—”

“Stop telling me what I am and what I’m not,” you interrupted, stepping even closer. “I don’t care if I’m not like you. I don’t care if I don’t belong here. You don’t get to make this choice for me.”

Hongjoong let out a humorless laugh. “You think this is a choice? You think you can just keep pretending this won’t change you?” His voice rose, frustration bleeding through. “You killed someone tonight.”

“I know what I did,” you snapped, your voice breaking slightly.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “And I don’t want you to have to do it again.”

And then you whispered, “Why do you care so much?” He froze. You stared at him, searching his face. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, something desperate flashing in his eyes. He looked away, breathing heavily.

“Hongjoong,” you said quietly.

His entire body tensed. It was the first time you had ever said his name. No sarcasm, no mocking tone. Just his name. And it undid him completely.

His head snapped up, eyes locking onto yours. He swallowed hard, chest rising and falling rapidly, like he was trying to hold something back.

But then you asked again, softer this time. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because I fucking love you!”

The words ripped out of him, raw and unfiltered, as if they had been clawing at his throat for weeks, waiting to escape.

Your breath hitched, your eyes widening. Hongjoong’s own expression was wild—like he couldn’t believe he had said it either. But he didn’t take it back. He just stared at you, breathing hard, waiting for you to say something, to do anything.

You reached for him, hands trembling slightly as they cupped his face. He stiffened at first, but then melted into your touch, his lips parting slightly.

“You’re an idiot,” you whispered, voice breaking. “But I would do it again. For you.”

His hands came up, covering yours, his eyes dark and unreadable. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“But I would.”

Hongjoong exhaled shakily, his forehead pressing against yours. And then, in the silence, in the lingering tension of everything that had been said, you kissed him.

Hongjoong groaned softly against your lips, his hands sliding down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tight, anchoring yourself to the moment.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he pressed one last lingering kiss against your lips before murmuring,

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

taglist : : @callmeagardengnome @serinebsblog @vtyb23 @choisanchwego @monsta-x-jagi @kyunlov @lcvejjoong @blueginz @lunaryoongie @yeon103 @spenceatiny18 @darlingz99 @matchahintonagar @ateezswonderland

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bearxgyeomie · 3 days ago

Text

The Leaders | Masterlist

"this is the underworld that no one escapes from"

ot8!ateez x f!reader

mafia au

genres and warnings: slowburn, angst, fluff, eventual smut (mdni!) poly!ateez, smoking, drinking, gambling, illegal businesses, politics, violence, heavy themes, mild gore, multiple pairings, more specific warnings in the chapters

estimated word count: approx 200k

synopsis: in eden 1970, you join the inner circle of the crescent company by sharing information that could crumble the very foundations of eden itself. amidst the dark world of manipulation, connections, dirty politics and illegal dealings, you navigate with eight seemingly-refined gentlemen who have your back as the war with the elites begins.

timeline | maps | character book

chapters:

status: ongoing (updates every 2 weeks)

taglist: apply here!

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bearxgyeomie · 3 days ago

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The Leaders | Chapter VII

"maybe a place where light and darkness meet, the choice between truth and lies is mine."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, smoking, illegal businesses, mentions of war/military, drugs, gangs and corruption, reader is anxious throughout most of the chapter, hongjoong redeems himself, san shoots his shot so that makes reader a serial kisser, and impending doom ig

chapter wc: 11.6k

chapter synopsis: after a last gathering in edenary where you meet a few key people of eden, you come back to sector 1 and have a meeting with the crescents. you and hongjoong make up and you finally learn about the nature of the crescents’ relationship from san. hongjoong delays the deal with madame tiffany but you still do not hear back from your sources in wonderland until the two parties officially sign the deal and it starts to feel like it’s too late to turn back.

prev chapter recap: the crescents meet up at the bar and share recent updates about assemblyman wi and how the anonymous funders have been identified save for one. yeosang reveals that the rv spies are protecting you from a threat which is not secretary park, and that has you rethinking everything from your past. your anxiety weighs on you and yunho attempts to comfort you. he hints about the nature of the crescents’ relationship. seonghwa and hongjoong finally let you in on the drug project for silver light and ask you to look into their possible partner for the deal, madame tiffany– a well-known tech company owner from wonderland. you finally step back into edenary after years and before the meeting with madame tiffany at a business gathering hosted by eden news owners, hongjoong gifts you a pearl necklace to match with your ring while asserting your role as his partner and his weapon. you meet secretary park and get a feeling that you’re being baited into making this new deal. You confront and warn him. the night ends in a conflict with hongjoong, though seonghwa is there to kiss away your tears.

There was something you wished you did not have in common with Hongjoong– the trait of stubbornness.

None of you was going to take the first step to acknowledge that perhaps, you both were at fault and the discussion that night in Edenary could have been handled in a better way without leaving things on a bitter note.

Hongjoong had managed to buy some time before Madame Tiffany would sign the deal, like you wanted. He invited her to Sector 1 and offered to show her around his business as a fellow tech-enthusiast. Still, things remained somewhat tense between the two of you. With Seonghwa’s presence as a buffer, it was somewhat bearable but it was getting harder to not address the elephant in the room when you were alone with him.

However, the two of you were also good at acting like everything was fine. No one would feel the tension surrounding the two of you unless they cared to take a closer look.

It was the third and the last day of your stay at Edenary, an unusually clear July afternoon at yet another business gathering hosted at the Ju Residence in the honour of Eden Newspaper’s 50th anniversary. It was an important event with a lot of politicians and business figures from all over Eden and the neighbouring countries attending so the three of you had planned to split and conquer.

You had prepared for this event in advance in a true Edenary citizen fashion. The previous day had no schedule so you decided to visit a few hotspots in Edenary. You offered Seonghwa to join but he already had another commitment with Hongjoong. Seonghwa requested Jaehyun and Ten to escort you– they were old employees and friends who could be trusted and as residents of Edenary, they were probably updated on where you should make your stops.

When you told Jaehyun and Ten that you would be making trips to the bars and clubs in Eden, they immediately knew what was up. Sporting little smirks and dressing their best, they joined you and you had to admit the three of you were quite a sight together– Hongjoong seemed to think so since he commented on your odd choice of outfit.

The odd thing being the burgundy colour of your lace blouse paired with cream slacks. Your feet were clad in heels and you were wearing your pearls, adding a sunhat and shades to the look. That was definitely something new for Hongjoong who had only seen you in formal office attire– or in the dress that he bought for you. He half wished he could ditch his appointment to observe you from the sidelines– he was quite curious about how you would look as an Edenary citizen.

He didn’t have to wait long to see that. Just like yesterday, you blended in seamlessly with the crowd today. You were wearing a mulberry coloured sheath dress, switching the pearls with silver accessories to match the bracelet that Hongjoong had given you. You weren’t oblivious of the way his eyes stuck to the cuff around your wrist when you sat next to him in the car. When you reached the venue and split up, he kept an eye on you while you got acquainted with the crowd. You seemed to be getting along just fine so he relaxed and let you handle it, deciding to trust in you just a bit more.

You would later reveal that this was what you had practised for– in the bars and clubs where information was sold over drinks, you got updates on the latest gossip of Edenary. It was the oldest trick in the book, yet it always worked. All you had to do was look good and provide something worthy in exchange, and you had a lot to share– just nothing about the Crescents but about General Wi and Secretary Park. Harmless little rumours.

You knew not to believe anything that came out of drunken mouths but from your experience, most of the time they were right. The other times, half-right.

That was how you made a mental list of a few people that you had to get acquainted with at this party. Most of them were business owners but there were quite a lot of politicians and people that had connections in the underworld. You had a short chat with Lee Sunmi, the heiress to Maddox and Co. – the jewellery brand that was Eden’s staple. She recognised the silver bracelet on your wrist and told you how Hongjoong had spent a lot of time choosing and designing the bracelet.

“Hold up,” you interrupted. “You’re telling me he designed it?”

“We take custom orders, and our customers sometimes suggest designs and we try our best to incorporate it into ours and deliver what they desire,” Sunmi smiled. “And Kim Hongjoong is quite a thoughtful man. He has always been creative.”

It looked like Hongjoong and Sunmi were on friendly terms– they probably had to be, considering the amount of purchases he had been making recently. You almost wished you had worn the pearl necklace too so you could hear the story behind it, but for now…

This was enough.

A few moments later, you went to hang out in a corner with a drink, clouded by the contents of your conversation with Sunmi while you watched the guests and made note of who was interacting with whom. You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to find a man who was about Hongjoong’s height. He looked familiar for some reason.

“I see you’ve got eyes on Assemblyman Kim Jooheon,” the man said, pointing at the politician with his gaze.

“I see that you do too,” you replied, making space for him in the corner. You could see almost everyone from here since it was an elevated platform but hardly anyone looked back towards you.

“Drink?” You offered and when he nodded, you grabbed a glass from your right where the table was.

“You look familiar,” he commented. “Where are you from?”

“Sector 1,” you told him. “Are you from there too?”

“Yeah,” he put his hands in the pocket of his plain black suit, habitually sniffing. “I saw you talking to Park Seonghwa. Are you… acquainted with him?”

You narrowed your eyes just a fraction. “Can I have your name, please?”

He smiled in defeat. “Bang Chan.”

You almost dropped the drink in your hand, resorting to a gulp. This was the man who had unintentionally triggered the wheels into motion that led you to where you were today– Chan, the leader of Wolfgang. Had he not ordered his men to raid the Crescent Bar, you wouldn’t have signed the deal with Seonghwa and become a Crescent.

You wanted to thank him for a multitude of reasons, and the small part of you that still yearned for the normalcy you had before getting swept up in all these politics wanted to kill him for ruining your peace.

“Mr. Bang,” you nodded, extending your hand. “I’m Luna.”

“Is there more to it?” He shook your hand, his eyes filled with curiosity.

“Perhaps,” you replied nonchalantly. “What do you know about Assemblyman Kim?”

“Well, if you’re looking to make connections with him, he might consider if you’re influential around Sector 1, though I must say I haven’t really heard of you…”

“You will, soon,” you promised and he shook his head in amusement. “Do you think he would associate with… people who have influence in the underworld?”

Chan raised a brow. “You must recognise me, huh?”

“Yeah, but that might not be the reason I’m asking that question,” you said, taking a gulp. You smirked. “I must say I didn’t expect the leader of Wolfgang here.”

“Well, you know what they say about us mafiosi,” he smirked back, swirling the drink in his glass. “Refined gentlemen during the day, gangsters at night.”

Just like the Crescents. You had heard about the history of their gang once from Wendy– the members of Wolfgang had been among the first to get forcefully drafted in the military during war. President Son could not prevent the military takeover during the war and that was the reason that the people around your age, like the Crescents and the Wolfgang, had all been enlisted. What made Wolfgang unique was that they were already becoming an established gang before the war and after the war ended, they only grew stronger.

Chan quirked his brows. “Will you answer my question now?”

“Well… you could say we’re acquaintances, yes, Seonghwa and I,” you said and he raised a brow at the way you so casually addressed him. “Will you answer my question now?”

Chan laughed deeply, knowing you wouldn’t be giving him anything else about your connection with Seonghwa.

“Assemblyman Kim is a presidential candidate for the next elections, though his ratings aren’t very high,” he sighed. “But you already know that. What you should know is that he’s a smart man- smarter than people give him credit for. His moral compass is very clear and he values justice above everything else.”

“And that would be why he has such low ratings, because who cares about justice in this era?” You huffed. “Thank you for the tip, Mr. Bang. I must shoot my shot now– I hope we can cross paths on good terms in the future.”

“Likewise… Luna,” he bowed jokingly and you shot a grin in his direction before walking towards the assemblyman, his secretaries by his side busy speaking with other people who wanted to hold a conversation with the presidential candidate. You slid in front of him smoothly as soon as he shook hands with a person to bid them farewell.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kim,” you extended your hand and he scanned your figure, shaking your hand with a warm smile. “I’m Luna of the Crescent Company. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was trying to pinpoint where exactly he had seen you– certainly not in Sector 1 or anywhere near the Crescents. You only smiled knowingly.

“Haven’t we met?” He couldn’t resist asking. “In Edenary, a few years ago?”

Oh, Chan was right– he really was smart. He had, in fact, met you very briefly once. You hadn’t exchanged any meaningful words other than a light shriek from you when he suddenly appeared in your way, and a question from him to ask if you were okay, or if you needed help, because you looked so out of place in your own home.

That had been the last party that you attended in Edenary which was hosted in your father’s own mansion before you had to leave. You had been strictly instructed to stay in your own room but obedience had never been your strongest forte especially when forced.

And that might be why things turned out like they did.

“You have… exceptional memory, Assemblyman Kim,” you breathed, truly impressed.

He seemed to be still in thought, trying to pinpoint where he had seen you. You decided to make things easier for him– perhaps this could be an opportunity.

“At Secretary Park’s residence– the party was hosted to celebrate President Lee’s official debut in the political world.”

“Ah… that is a memorable night,” he nodded slowly, recalling the events of that night. You remembered that night as well as if it was yesterday– it had been truly electric to see so many powerful and influential people in one place and in your residence of all the locations. The mansion had been heavily guarded and only a few people were invited. Lee Jinwook and his wife Han Hyojoo had both been present. President Son’s term was about to conclude and he made a short appearance for the sake of his old friend, Han Hyojoo.

Your father would have sent you somewhere for the duration of that party but he locked you and Sunghoon both in a room– you because he couldn’t have anyone know that you were related to him, and Sunghoon because he was too rebellious at that time.

However, Sunghoon had always been one step ahead of his father as long as it concerned sneaking past him. When he waved the key in front of you, you almost smiled. And he let you out that night simply out of spite for his father, though you knew better than to stray too far.

And Assemblyman Kim hadn’t been the only person you had a memorable encounter with. Han Hyojoo, who would later become the President of Eden, was one of them too. A memory you would never forget.

“Sometimes when I recall that night,” Assemblyman Kim began, “I remember how frightened you looked to see me and then I start wondering what I had done to scare a child.”

“It wasn’t you,” you suppressed a chuckle. “I just… wasn’t supposed to be roaming around and then you caught me sneaking outside.”

Mr. Kim laughed heartily. “I’m relieved to hear that. So you’re a Crescent, huh?”

“It’s a recent happening,” you confirmed. “I hope you’ve been doing well, Sir. If you ever need a helping hand or a… tip, you can look for the sneaky child that gets scared easily. You’ll find her in Sector 1.”

Assemblyman Kim considered that offer. “Noted. Although if you’ve done your research, you would know that I don’t associate with… underworld organisations.”

“Perhaps, your information is outdated– or rather, one-sided,” you commented, noticing how his secretaries were listening in to your conversation now. “But tell you what, Assemblyman Kim… you don’t need to step in the underworld to rule the world, you know what I mean?”

He poked his tongue inside his cheek, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss.”

“That’s a positive sign, right?” You look towards his female secretary, Secretary Shin, whose lips curled in an assuring smile. You parted with them, deciding to take a break before resuming your scavenging.

You ascended up the stairs of the Ju Residence, your hand sliding up the marble railing with ease. There were people everywhere, drinks or tarts in their hands as they chattered endlessly. Craving some peace, you found the balcony empty and went to stand in the corner, hopefully out of sight of the people inside. You ran your gaze across the expanse of the residence– the garden that surrounded the mansion was also full of guests lounging near the buffet table. You recognised a few of them and spotted Hongjoong conversing with a group of older men.

You shut your eyes and took a deep breath, a dull throbbing in your head preventing you from organising your thoughts any further. You almost didn’t feel the presence of Seonghwa until he was beside you, his hand sliding over yours and you would have been startled if it weren’t for his very familiar sigh sounding in the air.

“Tired?” He asked and you opened your eyes to look at the underboss. He was dressed to perfection in a black suit with a red sash emerging from under the left lapel that attached to his right shoulder and fell back in a flowy manner– true to Edenary fashion. His hair was getting longer, which meant that it was getting harder for you to resist stealing glances at him.

“A bit, yeah,” you shrugged. “No matter how much I get used to this… environment, it will always feel a bit suffocating to be here.”

“I can understand why,” he agreed. “Parties used to be somewhere that you could let loose. Now you have to be cautious of every move you make, every word you say.”

“You’re a natural at this, though,” you teased. “You grab everyone’s attention when you’re in the room.”

“Everyone but yours, it seems,” he retorted. “I was watching you talk to Assemblyman Kim. You didn’t even notice me when you were done. Tsk tsk,” he shook his head and you curled your lips downwards, making him grin.

“I’ll tell you all about the meeting with him when we get home– but first, I did not know Kim Hongjoong was a romantic,” you whispered dramatically and he raised a brow in question. “I met Lee Sunmi and she had something interesting to say about this piece. He designed this himself.”

You waved the bracelet in front of him and he chuckled, showing off his ring. “Did you not notice all of us wearing the same ring, sweetheart?”

“Oh?” You held his hand to inspect the ring- it was shaped like your bracelet with infinity symbol design carved all around. “All of you?”

“All eight of us, yeah. Also designed by the one and only Hongjoong,” he smiled proudly. “And you match.”

You pursed your lips, taking a closer look at your bracelet– it really was a matching set. “A part of the Crescents, huh?”

Seonghwa nodded, his eyes darting towards the window. “Mr. Ju is here. I’ve got to greet him.”

“Alright, I’ll go get something to eat before I resume this serious business,” you mocked and he snickered before the two of you parted ways.

You didn’t get a chance to brief the boys until you were back to Sector 1 and you figured that it was for the better since it saved you all the repetition. The rest of the Crescents came to town to hear about your visit to Edenary but this time, you were all cramped inside Hongjoong’s office. Or maybe it felt cramped due to the lack of drinks and the subtle tension in the air.

You took yet another deep breath as you heard Seonghwa’s side of the story, your eyes darting among the boys. Now that Seonghwa had hinted that they were all a single unit and might be closer than you thought, you couldn’t help but read too much into the otherwise casual actions– Mingi holding Yunho’s hand and Yunho absently caressing it while he watched Yeosang with a unique fondness, Wooyoung trying his utmost best to land a kiss anywhere on Yeosang who was strongly resisting with a subtle smile on his face that indicated that he didn’t dislike his attempts, and San massaging Jongho’s shoulders while he listened intently to what Seonghwa was saying.

Hongjoong watched all of them with almost parental affection, sending warning glares to anyone who dared interrupt the underboss and sharing smiles with anyone who looked his way.

So the question remained, looming over you until the weight of it felt almost tangible–

Who was with who, and just how many of them wanted you to be a part of whatever relationship they had?

“You alright?” Mingi asked. Having sat next to you, he noticed how you had stopped listening a while ago.

You nodded, smiling briefly in assurance before focusing your attention on Seonghwa who was now finishing up. Hongjoong filled in the parts that Seonghwa had not covered, especially about the previous day at the party at Ju Residence.

“I think the only memorable part of my night was finding President Son’s wife at the event,” he said and a chorus of appreciation sounded across the room. You looked at Hongjoong who was smiling knowingly at you– he had withheld this information for this dramatic reveal.

“Kim Jiwon,” he continued. “I think she attended knowing President Lee wouldn’t make it. You don’t often see ex-President Son’s family and anyone connected to President Lee in the same room.”

“Secretary Park was there, though,” you recalled. You purposely ignored and avoided him that day. “But I don’t think they crossed paths.”

“They probably didn’t. She was there for a very short time,” he agreed. “Anyways, she asked how business was. I told her that it was fine, and then she asked how business was.”

“Hold up–” you straightened. “You’re acquainted with President Son?”

Hongjoong crossed his legs, smirking. “The war may have ruined us all but me, personally? I made a lot of connections.”

You whistled, impressed and Wooyoung, who was sitting not far from you, waved his hand in dismissal. “He knows everyone, Luna. Get used to it.”

“Noted,” you sagged back into the couch but kept your eyes trained on Hongjoong. “How do you know him?”

“That’s a story I’ll tell you some other time,” he promised. “But anyways, my point is that this is the first time President Son has hinted that he knows something. I thought it might be a slip of tongue from his wife but then I remembered that they’re the kind of people who make mistakes on purpose.”

“She could be referring to the illegal trade, the weapons, or… anything, at this point,” Yeosang thought. “But the fact that they’re aware and have not done anything must mean that they don’t entirely disapprove, right? President Son still has enough influence to make our establishment collapse if he wants to.”

“Right, which is why I’m thinking that I really need to look into what he has been up to recently,” Hongjoong concluded. “Luna.”

“Yeah, so,” you began, inhaling deeply. “I think the two of you covered most of it. I had a not-so-cool meeting with Secretary Park,” you said, your eyes darting towards Seonghwa who had a subtle smile on his face. “He’s an arse, as usual.”

“Louder!” Wooyoung clapped in appreciation, eyes full of pride which prompted a laugh from you, making you feel instantly lighter.

“He thinks we should sign the deal with Madame Tiffany, which translates to ‘it will ruin us’, but maybe that’s just me,” you looked pointedly at Hongjoong who was suddenly too busy admiring his nails. “And then yesterday, I met Lee Sunmi of Maddox Jewellers and she had some interesting things to say about our boss, but that’s a story for later.”

That finally made Hongjoong look at you and you were surprised to see the glimpse of a cautious hope in his eyes. You continued. “I also had an interesting conversation with Assemblyman Kim. He remembers seeing me in Secretary Park’s mansion in 1963.”

“That’s seven years ago,” Jongho looked surprised. “How does he remember?”

“Well, your boss recalled seeing me from way before,” you pointed out and Hongjoong huffed.

“Seeing a young girl in Secretary Park’s mansion. Didn’t realise it was you,” he corrected.

“And Assemblyman Kim remembered me because, well, I gave him quite the reaction when I saw him last time,” you told the boys about your first meeting with him. “I made sure he knew that the Crescents are one call away if he ever needs help.”

“But he doesn’t associate with ‘gangs’,” Jongho pointed out.

“I told him he doesn’t need to ‘associate’ with us in order to gain something from us. And let’s admit it– my addition to the Crescents makes your business image far cleaner than it actually is.”

Laughter filled the room as the boys clapped in acknowledgement, making you sit just a little taller, your heart feeling full with something like pride.

“Anyways, I’ve heard more rumours about the recent happenings in Eden which may or may not be true,” you continued. “But the most interesting one has to be about how the Sirens Rebel Party is planning some unusual way of protesting when the campaigns start– and this time, their target is not only General Wi but also… President Lee.”

“President Lee?” Yunho frowned. “When he’s been pretty much unproblematic this whole time? I don’t think he’s being controlled by the army like the Sirens fear. If he was, the first step he would have taken is to send the Strictland immigrants in Eden back to their homeland.”

“That’s what you think,” Wooyoung scoffed. “I’ve been saying it this whole time– he’s far too clean to be unproblematic. Besides, he wouldn’t make a move like this and oust himself.”

“This means it’s time we do a little digging, no?” You looked at Hongjoong who was nodding in thought. “We should look into why the Sirens suddenly think President Lee has joined hands with the army. The Sirens are mostly Strictland immigrants– they must be anxious about something… And who would know President Lee better than President Son? Isn’t it so odd that he refuses to acknowledge him when he was so close to President Lee’s wife?”

“I just thought it might be a personal issue. There were always rumours about how President Han and President Son may have been a thing at some point in their lives,” Hongjoong said and you were about to protest when he spoke your mind. “I think that’s rubbish and it’s probably another deep-rooted grudge– President Son has never been a fan of President Lee.”

“Well, I hope there’s some way to find more about the reason their relationship is so strained,” you said, taking a deep breath before saying, “and that’s about it, yeah. Trip to Edenary concluded.”

A chorus of hums sounded across the room and someone shuffled to get the drink from Hongjoong’s table that they wanted to open for a successful trip. You, however, caught Yunho’s gaze.

“You did great,” he leaned forward to say with a warm smile, Mingi pressing himself back on the couch so you two could talk. “Assemblyman Kim is actually not a bad idea at all. We might need him if President Lee really is guilty of something big.”

“Right?” You exhaled in relief. “You can never have too many allies.”

San interrupted the moment with a tap to your shoulder, sliding in the empty space next to you and handing you a glass, congratulating you on making your first trip to Edenary as a Crescent a success– he had heard about your worries and anxiety about the trip over one of your usual late night drink sessions before you left.

“Any moments worthy of another late night drink session?” He asked in a low voice, winking subtly and you stifled a smile.

“There’s actually a lot, but if you can’t tell, me and Hongjoong are a little tense. We had a little argument,” you told him and he went ahead to glare at his boss unfiltered, which made you grab him by the chin so he would face you.

“Choi San!” You scolded in a harsh whisper. “You can’t do that!”

The action did not go unnoticed by the few who were watching you, but you were far too focused on the way San’s gaze softened as he looked at you. You dropped your hand, taking a big gulp of the drink as you attempted to appear normal and unaffected by the fluttering of your heart. You looked back at him and the two of you burst into giggles.

“You want me dead and gone, don’t you?” You poked his thigh.

“How dare Hongjoong have an argument with my darling sweetheart!” He continued with his charade, fully pouting as he clutched your head to bring you into a mock of an embrace. You struggled to free yourself and the boys laughed in confusion. Once you managed to wring away from San, you fixed your hair before smacking his arm.

All the while Hongjoong watched you challengingly.

You stared right back, eyes determined. And when a little smirk appeared on his lips, you finally found yourself relaxing while also realising with a sinking heart that Hongjoong already had quite the hold on you.

Now that you had wrapped up the hard part about the business with the conclusion of the Edenary trip, things were settling back into the old, quiet routine. You were only waiting for Madame Tiffany’s arrival to Sector 1 and, if lucky, a tip from Madame Cha in Wonderland to arrive preferably before the deal happens.

You had to admit that it was making you a little restless to not hear back from Madame Cha, and it had you wondering if she was purposely withholding information. Was she in cahoots with Madame Tiffany or worse, Secretary Park? The unease that you might have been betrayed by the one person you trusted prevented you from focusing completely on work and you often found yourself distracted and zoning out.

Anyone could tell that you were a bit jumpy these days. It was not because of your shift in relationship with both Yunho and Seonghwa. Things with Seonghwa were surprisingly normal and comfortable even after the romantic moment in Edenary, even after the confessions. He was still the same old underboss who gave you orders and a pat on your shoulders for doing a good job. He would make sure you were taking your meals on time, as did your colleagues Eunha and Jihoon.

It was mostly the lack of response from Madame Cha that was eating you up, and… Hongjoong.

Hongjoong was pretending to be normal– pretending, you were sure, because you were no stranger to the slight edge in his voice when he talked to you. It reminded you of the time when he had ‘respectfully’ asked you to stick to being a bookkeeper instead of meddling with their business and it made you reconsider if becoming a Crescent was a smart decision at all. You could have simply given away every information you possessed in exchange for your life, or used Kihyun as a shield. You could have resigned and gone to work at MX Pharmaceuticals– that way, you wouldn’t have had to interact with the Crescents very much.

But then… you would think about the boys. You would think about the recent development in the business and your relationship with the boys, ruminate about the good moments that you shared with them. The bond that you had created with them definitely outweighed anything else by a considerable margin.

You were waiting for Hongjoong in his office while you finished up the daily report for him. You couldn’t help but get distracted by the bracelet on your wrist. Perhaps, you should not have worn it today.

However, Hongjoong seemed to think differently. When he came to the office and seated himself across you, his gaze stuck on your wrist as you passed him the report. You hid your hands under the desk on purpose while you reviewed the reports as he went through them. It was all very smooth and casual, just like before, until–

“When are you going to share what Sunmi had to say about me?”

You couldn’t help the smirk this time. “When were you going to tell me that you’re not just the boss of a criminal organisation but a part-time designer as well?”

Hongjoong let out a wicked laugh. “Boss of a criminal organisation, okay, but a part-time designer? That’s something I’ve never heard about myself.”

“Well?” You waved your wrist in the air. “I’m hearing you designed this yourself, Captain.”

“Yeah, I did,” he leaned forward challengingly. “What about it?”

“Is this your trademark design,” you asked, letting your fingers brush the ring he wore on his right hand, “or… did you design it to match with your rings?”

Hongjoong only smiled in answer, letting you caress his hand for just a moment before he grabbed yours and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles and sending butterflies in your stomach.

“I need answers, Hongjoong,” you almost whispered. “Not distractions.”

“I designed it to match,” he admitted, clasping both of his hands around yours. “And since we’re both feeling a little chummy right now, I will admit that I said things that I should not have said.”

He cautiously looked into your eyes before he continued. “Your opinions were never imposing. You are my– our partner now, and you are allowed to voice your opinions even if they are imposing. Yes, I’m the boss and I make the final decision but that does not mean that I do not make sure that all my partners are satisfied with the decision I will make.”

“I know,” you said softly, surprised at the hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

“I’m just eager to make this deal,” he sighed. “This drug project has been in the works for far too long now, and I know I should be cautious, but it’s a golden opportunity, isn’t it?”

You nodded. “I might have been overthinking because it’s my father who encouraged us to proceed with the deal. I haven’t heard back from Madame Cha yet.”

“And that is why I delayed the meeting,” he reminded you. “But you must understand that I cannot delay it any further, right?”

You nodded, pursing your lips. There was still an unsettling feeling in your heart and now you were starting to understand the gravity and the seriousness of this drug project. It could improve the healthcare system of Eden and it could shake Eden as it exposes the people who tried to keep silver light all to themselves. Perhaps, you were just anxious because of those reasons.

“I understand, and I will cooperate,” you said and he shook his head at your choice of words. You let out a nervous laugh, the tension releasing from your body. “I mean, I accept your apology and I will work with you when we shake hands with Madame Tiffany. She’s probably a good choice– the best option we have for now.”

“The best option we’ve ever had,” Hongjoong said. “And I’m wary of her too. My network is meticulous and so far, she’s mostly clean. Only misfortune can ruin us now.”

“Let’s hope not,” you squeezed his hands in assurance before drawing them away. “Also, is there any way for you to contact President Son?”

“What for?”

“I was just wondering if he would like to share what he has on President Lee.”

“If it was that easy, I would have asked him ages ago,” Hongjoong chuckled.

“I know!” Your shoulders sagged. “Still…”

“He’s not the type of man to share information just like that, and I don’t even want to try,” Hongjoong raised his hands in surrender. “He’s scary.”

“So you are scared of someone, huh? You’re just human, after all,” you folded your arms, laughing mockingly.

“One wrong move and he will end my whole career,” Hongjoong reminded you and you bit on your lower lip in thought.

“What if we have something to trade? Information, an opportunity, something like that?”

“He is the kind of person who knows everything that happens– in Eden and in the underworld of this continent. It’s no wonder that he exercised presidency in Eden for two whole terms. A solid ten years of experience in that position, given his background is something to fear.”

“So we need him, but he does not need us,” you sighed in resignation when Hongjoong nodded. “Alright. I’ll see if there’s some other way to find information about President Lee. I really don’t think he’s unaware of this Strictland business. There is no way Secretary Park is making all these visits to Halaland personally under his nose.”

“Jongho is working on that,” he assured you. “He has a few connections in Halaland but they’re waiting for Secretary Park’s next visit to their country before they tail him.”

“Good idea. Have we still not found any clues about the anonymous source?”

“No, but I have a feeling it’s gonna be something big,” Hongjoong rubbed his face, tired. “We will also have to wait for the end of this month but I can’t promise any results. The anonymous sources usually hire someone from delivery services who have no connection to both parties. We correlate the timing through them– we hide our identity too. It’s going to be hard.”

You sat in silence, sorting your thoughts out and then agreeing that it was best to wait and see. Hongjoong reminded you that Madame Tiffany was arriving in three days’ time and that he and Seonghwa were going to show her around, but they would appreciate your presence when the actual meeting happens.

And it was the pressure of your new role that made you search for the comfort of your old job– where a part of you would always be, you mused. The Crescent Bar was almost like a home to you now, and tonight you were looking for Yeosang so you could tell him the events of Edenary in detail and talk about the things that you had been avoiding for a while now before it gets too complicated.

You had just wrapped up things with Yunho in the office before coming here and you might have talked to him instead, but it was getting harder to look at him and not have your heart melt a little. You were afraid that you were going to make a mistake– or simply, not think rationally in his presence. That is why your heart reached for Yeosang. You had known him the longest time and it was always comfortable with him, even after the subtle shift in your relationship.

However, when you sneaked in through the back door, wanting to avoid the rest of your friends who worked at the front, you found the door to his office locked. You stood there with your hand on the knob, your shoulders tensing up with each passing minute as you wondered where he was–

“Luna?”

You turned to find San who was shrugging on his usual leather jacket over a black tank top. It looked like he was getting ready to go home.

“Oh, hi,” you awkwardly waved. “Done for the night?”

“Yeah, what’s up? Are you looking for Yeosang?”

“Yes, but it looks like he’s not here,” you pursed your lips. “So I’ll be going back home.”

He studied you for a moment before shaking his head. “You need a drink?”

“Not here, I sneaked in from the back door,” you told him and he smiled in understanding. “Just wanted to talk to him about… stuff.”

“Well,” San stepped closer. “You can talk to me, if you’d like? No pressure– we could go somewhere else. I was going to go home anyway, and I’ll be alone tonight. No engagements.”

You contemplated for a moment. San was definitely easy to talk to and you both were very comfortable ranting to each other about what was going on in your lives. While he wasn’t as good as Yeosang at helping you navigate through what you were thinking… he was comforting in a different way. Like a friend, your equal.

“I guess we could walk around for now, yeah?”

“I’ve got drinks at my place if you’d like to drown your sorrows away,” he laughed and you clapped in acknowledgement, asking him to lead the way– you would definitely need a few drinks to talk about tonight’s subject matter.

The matter being what the eight of them really wanted from you.

“Look,” you took a deep breath, glad your mind was not cloudy from all the drinking you had been doing. San wasn’t drinking very much, opting to hear you out instead and promising to stop you if he thought was necessary. “I get it. You guys are close, in more ways than you let on–”

“It’s really not that complicated–” he began but you shot him a warning glare and he pretended to zip his mouth.

“To you, it may not be. You guys have been together for a long time, San,” you reminded him, shifting so you were sitting cross-legged on the floor now, resting your elbows on the table. You moved the bottles in front of you, arranging them into triangles while you talked. “Your relationship developed naturally. Right?”

“You’ve been with us for a long time too, now,” San countered. “At least with me and Yeosang.”

“That’s why I’m in your apartment right now. If it was someone else, I wouldn’t have intruded,” you winked at him and he laughed. “But my point is… how would it change us? What would it mean for me?”

“I think you need to answer a few questions first,” San shrugged. “If you’re comfortable with at least a few of us. If you see us in that light– if you want to be with some of us romantically.”

When San brought you to his apartment, he showed you around like a gentleman. He lived with Mingi and Seonghwa but Mingi usually stayed in the warehouse, opting to come back during the weekends. Seonghwa was visiting some family so he wouldn’t be home tonight either.

Then you told San about the details of your time in Edenary– specifically your argument with Hongjoong and how it got resolved now. He didn’t comment much, only smiled knowingly and agreed that Hongjoong could be a bit temperamental at times but that was probably stress.

And when you told him about your kiss with Seonghwa and your undeniable feelings for Yunho and Yeosang, he couldn’t help but make a few teasing remarks which finally made you get a good amount of wine in your system. You asked him to simply answer all your questions without ambiguity. You couldn’t simply sit around anymore and keep getting distracted over what was and what could be.

“Maybe I do,” you answered, your mouth suddenly feeling dry and you were glad you had some drinks in your system because you couldn’t have admitted it with this confidence otherwise. “Maybe I like you too.”

San smirked. “I’ll hear that when you’re sober, thank you very much.”

“I am sober. Just a little bit tipsy,” you straightened. “Come on, San. Don’t push me back now.”

“I’m not,” he gently said, scooting closer. “You wanna cuddle?”

“Cuddle?” You gaped at him– the mafia capo wanted to cuddle. With you.

“How long has it been since you’ve sat in someone’s arms, dear? Even platonically?”

There was a certain sadness in his voice that you couldn’t pinpoint. It made your heart sink, and you wondered if he had looked through your heart and found how lonely you were.

Cautiously, you scooted closer where he sat on the floor with his back resting on the couch, his legs spread to accommodate you. You sat in front of him, unsure of how he wanted you to sit.

“This is weird,” you told him and he shook his head, grabbing your wrists and turning you around so you were now tucked in his embrace, and with his bare, strong arms wrapped around you, you had to admit–

This was nice- no, this was lovely.

“Relax,” he said in a low voice, adjusting your bodies so you both sat a bit more comfortably. “You okay?”

“Yep,” you assured him, slowly letting the tension release from your body. “You’re right, I’ve almost never done this.”

“You don’t need to be partners to do this,” he told you, caressing your hair. “I think every human needs or craves a little skinship. I, for one, can’t sleep without holding something.”

“Oh,” you giggled at his admission and he chuckled. “So you cuddle just about anyone?”

“Anyone or anything,” he grinned. “Isn’t it nice?”

“Yeah, you’re like a cushion. A hard one– what’s all that muscle for?” You poked his biceps and he laughed loudly, poking your stomach and making you squirm in his grasp.

“We used to sit like this– the boys,” San said after a moment, voice deep with the memories of that time. “Usually it was Mingi and I after a tough night during the war. Jongho doesn’t really like cuddling but sometimes, he needed that too. We were all soldiers in the same platoon.”

“Did you know each other from before the war?” You asked, tracing patterns into his arms while you rested your head against his chest.

“Mingi and Yunho did. Yeosang and Wooyoung were old friends too, and they were stationed in the same area so they often met up. And then Yunho and Hongjoong became friends during the war, and after the treaty happened, we just… found each other again. We have never separated since.”

“You’re each other’s home now,” you smiled. “It must be nice to have each other.”

“It is,” he said. “We can always rely on each other. And our relationship… it’s different. Sometimes, we comfort each other, but there are no boundaries. Some of us have had girlfriends before, sometimes two of us with one person, but we never really met someone who could fit in with us and be a part of all of us, until… you.”

“And how did you know I would fit right in? Especially with the romantic aspects of your relationship?”

“We didn’t, we just liked when you talked back to Seonghwa,” San said and you laughed, drawing back in his embrace so you could face him. “Yeosang liked you from the beginning, but he’s probably the most cautious one out of all of us when it comes to relationships. And you always kept a distance until you became a Crescent.”

“Kept a distance for obvious reasons– I had so much to hide,” you sighed. “I can finally be myself since all my secrets are out.”

“Yeah,” San tucked your hair back lovingly. “It wasn’t until you started showing interest in Yunho that we thought that you might be the one for us. Seonghwa, at least, thought so. He had to convince Hongjoong.”

“But how does it work?” You asked. “Do you all… actually like me?”

“Obviously, not all of us yet and not in the same way,” he said and you figured that was true. “You know your relationship is different with all of us. You haven’t really interacted much with the warehouse boys, but with those you have… what do you think? Do you see yourself with us?”

“Does being one of you mean… that I’m with all of you?”

“Not necessarily, no,” San explained. “You can be with a few of us if that is what you would prefer. You can take your time navigating your feelings. You can be with one of us– but we… we’re willing to be with you if you are.”

“It’s… a lot,” you laughed, heart feeling full at the thought though there was an anxious strain in your chest that accompanied the feeling.

“Your own pace, darling,” San kissed your temple. “Whatever you say, whoever you want, whenever you want.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “So you will all be my boys then?”

San couldn’t help but gleam at the sound of that.

“It’s been the eight of us for a long time now,” San admitted. “And if you accept us, it will be the nine of us, and nobody else.”

“Well…” you scanned his face, finding his eyes full of hope with a hint of caution. You wished to erase that emotion from his eyes, now that you had your answer. “I actually quite like the sound of it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you folded your arms. “If I get tired with one of you, there’s always another. And another. And another–”

San groaned loudly, moving to tickle you again but when you tried squirming out of his grasp, the two of you somehow wrestled yourselves into a position so your bodies were flush against each other, with you lodged in his lap so you were at eye-level. San’s gaze darkened for just a moment and he removed his hands from around your body to make sure you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

But then you moved to cup his face, entranced by the way his eyes watched you and his plump lips parted for air. You traced the sharp curves and edges of his face, running your thumb over his lower lip.

“San… does it make me selfish if I really want to be a part of you guys? If I want all of you, in some way or another?”

“Not at all,” he whispered.

“Does it make me greedy to crave love?” You tilted your head, inspecting the moles and freckles that littered his neck. “To crave you?”

“No,” he rested his hands on the dip of your waist. “We all crave love. It’s natural.”

“You won’t break my heart, right?” You asked, locking eyes with him, unable to keep the assertiveness out of your voice even though it threatened to betray you. “None of you. I don’t think I have more capacity in me to grieve if I lose someone again, San. I’ve already lost everything once and it took me a lot of time to recover.”

“We will never do that to you,” he squeezed your waist in assurance, the promise in his eyes strong. “We protect each other. We don’t betray each other. We’re one.”

You nodded, leaning forward just a fraction, unable to deny the magnetic pull and he held his breath in anticipation. “Do you mind if I…”

“Are you sure?” San asked. “I don’t want you to wake up in the morning and regret coming here tonight, Luna. Bringing you here wasn’t– this wasn’t my intention–”

You reckoned that the only way to shut him up now was to capture his lips in a kiss. He froze for a moment before melting under your touch and reciprocating the kiss. His hands lowered to your hips, wrapping around your back as he brought your bodies closer and you kissed his lower lip sweetly before drawing back for breath.

For a few moments, you assessed each other. San studied the vulnerability in your eyes, watched how your eyes ran along the expanse of his upper body, your hands following the path as they traced down his shoulders and then came back to smoothen the fabric of his tank top.

“You’re… hot, Choi San,” you breathed out the confession and he laughed, eyes laden with adoration as he watched you.

“You sound drunk, Luna,” he said. “And I don’t want you to make a drunken mistake tonight.”

“I’m not drunk,” you steeled your gaze. “But okay, I get it. You’re a gentleman to the bone.”

“That I am,” San picked you up effortlessly as he got up and you almost squealed, wrapping yourself around him instinctively. San’s body shook as he laughed and he waited until your fear settled and you drew away to look at him.

“Would you like to stay over?” He asked.

“Sure,” you nodded, frowning in anticipation.

“Then let’s go wash up and cuddle until we sleep. Don’t let your drunken thoughts keep you up at night, darling.”

You pouted but you were aware that you would be thanking him the next morning. The two of you went to separate bathrooms to wash up and he lent you one of his shirts and a trouser for the night. You took your time in the shower, letting the water wake you up and take the cloudiness in your mind with it.

Once done, you walked to his room and stood in shock at the absurd amount of pillows on his bed– every shape, every size. San simply watched you from his bed, amused.

“That one looks like it’s begging for death,” you pointed at a worn out pillow in the middle of the bed.

“That’s my favourite pillow to cuddle,” San chuckled, patting the space next to him.

“I’ll dethrone it– I’ll be your new favourite cuddle pillow,” you promised, getting inside the covers and tackling him in a hug which made him laugh in surprise, his arm going around your back to hold you close.

“Didn’t expect you to be the shy type, Luna,” he said sarcastically.

“Didn’t expect you to be such a gentleman, but here we are,” you pecked his lips, gauging his reaction before sharing another sweet kiss.

“It’s really good to be here tonight. Thank you, San.”

“It’s nothing,” he caressed your head. “I didn’t expect this turn of events, but I hope all your questions are answered now.”

You grinned– truly, the night had taken an unexpected turn but you were not going to complain. There was only one thing left now.

You will have to make this official amongst the boys. You needed to hear if they were alright with this, and if they were, you were ready to become a part of their team.

For now, you were content sleeping in San’s warm embrace.

The wet winters was an unavoidable thing in Eden but it was still amusing to see how it vexed the citizens of Eden. The rest of your week passed by in a blur, unforgiving with its never-ending downpour of rain that cast a bleak spell on the area. The laughter of the children was replaced by shrieks as they huddled under shade, being shouted at by their guardians to get back home. The once calm and steady footsteps of the people making their way to begin with their day at their workplace was substituted by wet and uneven steps, often accompanied by a whisper of a string of curses.

You tried to stay optimistic but even you could relate to the cranky pedestrians when a cycle, or worse, a car would pass by, sending a splatter in your direction which you would narrowly avoid. Sometimes, you would carry the drops of muddy water on your bottoms to the office and make a quick stop at the toilet to scrub it off. You wished there was an umbrella that would guard you from head to toe.

Seonghwa told you that it was called ‘a car’ and you made a face– you would not be accepting conveyance offers. Your walks to the office and back home were perhaps the only mundane activity left in your life. Plus, you liked how the morning walk specifically made you vigilant if it was raining– calculating where to place your next footstep was quite a nice activity to wake your mind and get it running for the rest of the day. Working with the ‘big three’ made you want to start your day as normally as possible.

It also kept you humbled, and perhaps, you needed that now more than ever. While you and Hongjoong were no longer tense, you were starting to understand a few things. You were no longer an Edenary citizen– not by any means. You were now a Crescent, and that was the only identification you would need in the future.

Being a Crescent meant that you were an equal now. There were no longer any power dynamics going on– you did not need to prove your worth with the information you had or with your status. You just needed to work with them. They needed your brains– though, again, they really didn’t, as Hongjoong had clarified. They just needed… you.

Why did they need you anymore? Their deal with Madame Tiffany was done. You had already shared everything you knew about the elite’s dirty secrets that you deemed significant. Did you really deserve to be a Crescent? Did you deserve this position in the Crescent? Sure, a bookkeeper, maybe you earned that. A secretary, even. But to be one of The Leaders?

And to be wanted by them? Desired?

That question gnawed at you like a constant itch ever since San told you about the true dynamics of their relationship and their offer– to be with as many of them as you liked. While his admission had helped the guilt that you wished to be with more than one of them, it also contributed to the self-doubt and the insecurities you had been harbouring in your heart. Did you really deserve to be at this position?

And it was this confusion about your self-worth that was making you delay officially accepting their offer to be a Leader and be a part of their relationship dynamic. San had explained that the latter part would be shaped on your terms but that did nothing to comfort you. Plus, there were more pressing matters that you needed to take care of. It was odd how Madame Cha had not responded back to you after you told her about Madame Tiffany. You were wondering if she ever received your letter in the first place or if someone else got to it first– you wouldn’t be surprised if your father’s rats intercepted the letter.

Madame Tiffany was now fully aware of the boss’ vision for silver light. She understood why it was so important to a man like Kim Hongjoong to have that drug earn the status of a medicine so that he could crush the most powerful drug network in Edenary. Once silver light would be in the hands of a common man, the elites would no longer want to consume it or keep using it as their currency. The fundings for silver light would stop and he would finally learn just which influential personalities of Eden were involved in this. Things for the Crescents, especially business, would get easier from there.

Madame Tiffany, of course, didn’t need to know the last part. She could keep wondering if it was solely because Hongjoong was a moral man who wanted the best for the people of Eden.

That was true. He did want the best for his people– just not without gaining something himself as well.

Tonight was the last meeting with Madame Tiffany before she would be going back to Wonderland. So far, the sessions had been fruitful and she had already made her first instalment of payment, thus solidifying the partnership. You attended a few meetings too and learned a lot from her– while she was considerably young for an owner of multiple businesses, she was well-experienced and had knowledge to share. You were starting to think that you had been worried for no reason.

When you were not attending the meeting, you were working in the background with her assistants while Hongjoong and Seonghwa or Yunho gave Madame Tiffany company. Tonight, you were handling the legal aspect of the finances with Jihoon– the two of you had been on it since before Madame Tiffany arrived, making sure her huge advance payment would be adjusted properly and unsuspiciously into the current statements especially since a few inspectors had been keeping an eye on the Crescents tax and bank statements recently.

You both would have to make sure not to raise suspicion at such a sensitive time and maybe keep the extra cash stored somewhere safe, which was another headache. It was a relief that the weapons incharge group needed cash soon so you only had to worry about transporting the extra bunch safely.

You checked the time on your wrist watch– it was almost 10 and that meant the meeting was about to be over. You let Jihoon know who instantly relaxed back in the chair to crack his neck and you both grinned at the loud sounds that his aching joints produced.

“Eunha owes us a meal for skipping out on this,” you said, signing the last document and shutting the folder with a sense of accomplishment.

“Oh, definitely. I’ll make sure she pays us back as early as possible,” Jihoon muttered, highlighting a line in the report and passing it to you to check for any discrepancies. You confirmed that it was alright and he concluded his work as well. “Oh, also, I forgot to tell you because it’s been so busy here, but someone came looking for you today. Not exactly ‘looking’, but asked if you worked here.”

“Me?” Your heart sank. “Who would?”

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t anyone from around here– I would have recognised him if he was. He said he would find you. He didn’t give me a name.”

“Well… geez. It could be someone my father sent to kill me.”

“Yeah, and he would come marching right in here unscathed, huh?” Jihoon shook his head.

“What did he look like?”

“Cool,” Jihoon laughed. “Had a few piercings– one here to match with his moles or something,” he pointed at his brows and your face scrunched in confusion before you realised.

“Lim Jaebeom was here?”

Jihoon narrowed his eyes when you looked absolutely shocked to learn the identity of the person who came to see you. “Is that supposed to be someone important?”

“Kind of, but I wish he had come earlier,” you nervously looked at the closed door of the boss’ room. “That’s my source for verification on Tiffany.”

“I thought you gave up on that?”

“I did,” you nodded and he whistled in response, agreeing it was too late now. You simply needed to pray that Jaebeom brought good news.

You could not stop shaking your leg while you waited for the meeting to be over and once Yunho stepped out, he paused when he saw a very tired Jihoon and a very fidgety you. He immediately came over to dismiss Jihoon first after making sure everything was okay, and then he called you into his office.

“How did the meeting go?”

“It was okay. They’re just chatting now so I thought I would leave. It was a good idea, apparently,” he looked at your jittery hands pointedly. “Can’t wait to go home?”

“It’s not that,” you laughed, deciding not to tell anyone about Jaebeom until you actually had something to share. “Okay, yeah, I might be a bit tired too.”

Yunho hummed in response while he locked the documents in the cabinet. “You need a ride? I’m going to the bar and it looks like it’s still raining.”

“Oh, yes, please,” you groaned in relief. “I can’t wait to take these damp clothes off– I had to run outside to get a snack and got caught in the rain.”

Yunho raised a brow, scanning your body– if the clothes had been a lighter colour, he might have gotten a look at your silhouette. You folded your arms and shook your head.

“Get your head out of the gutter, Lieutenant Jeong. I’m not taking anything off here.”

“Whatever happened to our office romance?” Yunho wondered, grinning as he asked you to follow him downstairs and you caught Hongjoong and Madame Tiffany sharing a farewell handshake, opting to wait inside until she was gone.

As soon as she was out of sight, Hongjoong’s fake smile dropped and he turned, rolling his eyes when he saw the two of you snickering at the change in his demeanour. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. She smiles too fucking much.”

“What a gentleman,” you commented, patting his shoulder in mock sympathy. “We were just leaving– he’s dropping me home.”

“Wait till Seonghwa hears that,” Hongjoong scoffed. “He’s still bitter about how you won’t accept a car and a driver.”

“I’m only making use of this man here,” you pointed at Yunho. “Why don’t you two try taking a walk tonight, huh, you and Seonghwa? Get a breath of that fresh air– you look like you need it.”

You proceeded to sit in the passenger seat with a teasing look shot at Hongjoong who stood at the entrance of the office, thoroughly amused. The ride to your home wasn’t too long so it was mostly silent and you made him park the car at the end of the street so he could save a turn.

“Well, that is goodnight,” you started grabbing your things. “And we part ways till it is the morrow.”

Yunho brushed his fingers against your hand and you let him link your hands. He squeezed them before he raised your hand to kiss the back of it.

“When are you going to talk to the boys?”

You knew what he meant. You smiled. “I just want the business to settle down a bit before we take that step. There’s too much going on right now.”

“I understand,” he pressed another kiss to your hand. “I’m just excited for it.”

“Gosh, you’re such a child sometimes,” you laughed, returning the sentiment and kissing the back of his hand. “I think I need to personally talk to Yeosang first.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” he agreed. “He’s waited too long for you.”

You pursed your lips guiltily. “He wouldn’t mind that I– that me and you, and me and San–”

“No, he wouldn’t. Not in the slightest,” Yunho assured you. “However, he is the type to mind after you make this official.”

“Oh, thank you for the tip. I shall keep that in mind,” you breathed. That sounded like the Yeosang you knew. “Any other tips to share?”

“Hmm… the underboss likes to receive gifts. Meaningful gifts.”

“I knew he had that side to him,” you shook your head, recalling seeing a bunch of stuff that seemed out of place on Seonghwa’s office desk. “What else?”

Yunho took a moment to think, caressing your hand absently. “The consigliere quite likes intimate moments like these. He might never admit that, though.”

“Is that so?” You tugged at his hand, beckoning him to look at you and for once, he looked shy which made you bite back a grin. “Does he like eye contact or is he too tough for that?”

“Oh, he can hold his eye contact,” Yunho assured in a low voice, looking intently at you and sending butterflies in the pit of your stomach. “He is known not to break away first.”

“I would take this challenge when I’m not feeling icky,” you told him, just wanting to get out of your clothes that stuck to your skin. “But…”

You pulled him in and locked his lips with yours, sharing a sweet kiss. The way he looked at you afterwards made you want to stay and talk about feelings, for once, but you only smiled, pecking his lips in farewell.

And it was a good idea to let him go. Just as you had predicted, the familiar figure of the leader of one of the most notorious and influential underworld gangs of Wonderland sat on a bench, fiddling with his smoke. You took a look around before taking a seat at the other end of the bench.

“Fancy seeing you here, Jaebeom.”

Jaebeom scanned your figure slowly with his piercing gaze before it softened just a fraction. “You’ve grown, kiddo.”

You smiled widely at the term– strangely, he had been the first one to give you such a childish nickname. It made you see him in an almost familial way.

“How’s Madame Cha?” You asked. “And what brings you here?”

“Your aunt’s the same,” he began, crossing one leg over the other. “Which means she’s thriving, keeping the boys busy. Me? I came to take a breather.”

“Lies,” you scoffed. “You can’t leave them alone. You’re incapable of that.”

“But I’m here,” he spread his arms to prove a point. “Okay, I’m here with Jinyoung. He had some business here and now was a good time to tag along and deliver some news.”

“Good news or bad news?” You asked sombrely.

“Both?” He inhaled deeply. “But not now. There’s still a few things I need to check before I decide what to give you.”

“Is this about Madame Tiffany?” You prodded. Reluctantly, he gave in with a nod.

“Just tell me if it looks bad,” you tried swallowing the anxiety in your voice.

“It could be the end of your beloved Crescents’ career, if I’m right about this,” he said in a low voice and you cursed under your breath– you knew it. “It’s hard to say anything right now because we didn’t find anything while investigating her. She’s clean, you know that.”

You nodded. Countless thorough checks brought nothing to attention.

“You know Madame Cha makes us track shifts in the elite world to have an idea of what the political situation in the continent looks like– and it’s looking bad. We fear the stepping stones for the second war of our lifetime are being cemented, and we’re working with people from around the continent to try and stabilise the situation. It’s kind of ambiguous right now, so I can’t really say…”

“But she might be involved?”

“We spotted her with far too many instigators to call it a ‘coincidence’,” Jaebeom explained. “It could be just her business and stuff, but there’s a chance that she might be involved. However miniscule it might be.”

“Good lord,” you breathed. “Wish I had learned that earlier.”

“Like I said, she’s clean. Far too clean,” Jaebeom tsk-ed in disappointment. “But we got a tip and got busy. We might need the Crescents to join hands with us in the future, so don’t look like you’ve just seen the grim reaper.”

“You don’t understand,” you looked at Jaebeom, positive your face was void of colour now. “If she’s involved… we’ve given her the key to destroy the Crescents… and ultimately Eden.”

Jaebeom pursed his lips in disbelief. “I sure hope not. I’ll report back soon– stay vigilant.”

The ickiness of your clothes didn’t bother you anymore. You sat on the bench, letting the dampness of it stick to your soul for a while, waiting for a miracle to happen. However, the only miracle that did happen was that you mustered up your courage to go in the comfort of your room, away from the monsters of this world.

After washing up, you found yourself in front of Wendy’s room. Her door was slightly ajar and you peeked inside– she seemed to be asleep. You quietly got inside the covers next to her and she stirred in her sleep, turning to you and opening one eye to confirm your presence.

“Everything alright?” She mumbled, voice laden with sleep.

You didn’t answer. “I’m just very tired, Wendy.”

Wendy smiled sadly before falling back asleep, one arm draped over your chest. You followed, hoping the last bit of tonight was just a bad dream and you would magically wake up in your own room as if nothing had happened.

next chapter

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bearxgyeomie · 4 days ago

Text

The Leaders | Chapter III

"this is the underworld that no one escapes from."

masterlist

ot8!ateez x f!reader, mafia au

chapter warnings: drinking, illegal businesses, mentions of violence, war/military and weapons, the designated assholes be warming up now, yunho is trying his utmost best to confuse tf out of you.

chapter wc: 11.8k

chapter synopsis: yunho verifies with kihyun that secretary park is not the man for their new deal and hongjoong makes the connection, finding out who your father is. no longer having to hide your identity, you candidly discuss what you know about the strictland nuclear base and who might be involved other than secretary park. you save yunho from an attack which shifts your relationship with him. overwhelmed, you find yeosang at the crescent bar who hears you out and comforts you.

prev chapter recap: you learn more about the crescent’s past– as ateez, the gang, and their accomplishments in the war that earned them respect. while you get familiar with your job at the main office, you meet the young informant jaemin who refers to the boss as ‘the captain’. seonghwa continues to question your background but you only warn him to be careful making deals with secretary park. you finally meet the boss hongjoong who barely acknowledges you, and you complain about the recent events to san at the bar who assures you that your new bosses are just human if you look past their big, scary titles. convinced, you make a decision and warn the bosses directly to not make the deal with secretary park and reveal his connection with strictland. however, they have trouble taking your word for it and hongjoong reminds you that you are just a bookkeeper, though he instructs yunho and seonghwa to look into your connection with secretary park.

You had never dreaded a shift as much as you were dreading the night shift the day after Kim Hongjoong showed you your place by reminding you that you were just a bookkeeper. His words still rang in your head over and over, asserting that you were no one of importance.

“You have a lot of audacity to come in here and make claims about a business you are not a part of, and people you don’t know enough about. Possessing such audacity is what almost cost you your life that night, and what is tempting me to retract the deal my partners made behind my back.”

Hongjoong had made it clear that he wanted you to stop interfering in their deals and it was honestly a surprise that the man didn’t shoot you in the head last night. He wasn’t known to be merciful, so you had probably used up a good bit of your luck considering how you weren’t fired from your job. If he was going to keep you still, he would definitely be digging into your past and you were preparing yourself to deal with the consequences of your actions. If they found out that you were Secretary Park’s daughter and told him about what you said… you would be in huge, huge trouble.

You should not have blindly trusted the Crescents. If they were just a mere business organisation, maybe they would have believed you but they were Ateez too– a gang who clawed their way up, fighting tooth and nail for a place in this world which they eventually and rightfully earned. Yeosang and San may have told you that the Crescents were good people at heart but Kihyun was also right– they were children of war, and they could fight their own battles. They did not need a mere bookkeeper with a shady past to help them out and save them from deals that could go wrong in the future.

In the midst of this hopelessness, the feelings of guilt over keeping state secrets to yourself were eating you up. You wished you could share those secrets with someone who actually cared for their land rather than wielding that secret like a threat to satisfy their selfish desires. What you carried with yourself was a burden too heavy for your shoulders and you didn’t know how long you could last before you would get crushed under it. Perhaps, what drove you mad was the fact that no one could be trusted. You had no idea who was involved in that sick scheme– it could be anyone.

No one would take your word for it. You had been at the wrong place, at the wrong time, hearing something that should have never passed anywhere near your ears. You saw your father engage in discussion with a man that you did not recognise, but what you heard was enough to make you lose your footing and trip on the ground with a loud thud, unable to function properly because of the gravity of those words.

Your father discovered you eavesdropping on him and that was when things took an ugly turn for you. If Kihyun hadn’t been present in another room, waiting for your father at that time, there would have been no one to stop the man from trying to wring the truth out of his own daughter in the most despicable, threatening manner. You would have met a fate much worse than him wiping your name off the family registers and sending you to Wonderland.

You shivered involuntarily at the thought, glad you were alone in the office and no one had noticed you staring into the distance and picking on the skin near your nails. The words you had heard years ago replayed in your head, the memory as clear as day even after all this time, refusing to be forgotten.

“Halaland knew we had joined hands with Strictland’s nuclear operation officials so they did what they had to protect themselves.”

Strictland was a piece of land that had always been a part of Halaland, but had also always fought for independence. For a good few decades now, it had earned itself the status of an occupied nation under Halaland’s military control. It was always a sensitive matter, for Strictland was home to a nuclear base that had once been functional but long since shut down on the basis of the amended international peace laws that made sure that no country on this continent created or owned nuclear weapons. So why was there talk about Strictland’s nuclear operation officials going on if the base was supposed to be shut for a good thirty years now? And most importantly–

What exactly did Halaland do to protect itself? Was it the long, bloody war that lasted four years during President Son’s second presidential term, beginning from 1958? The war was triggered by bombing in Halaland near Strictland, and Halaland had accused Eden and sent forces soon after. The war came to a sudden end after President Son proposed the Treaty of the Eight Hills, ensuring peace. Post-treaty, things with Halaland were strained, sure, but nothing has been amiss so far.

Strictland’s nuclear base could not be active and not cause a stir in the continent, so why did it seem like something was happening under wraps? Could the base be functional and be the reason why Halaland refused to grant Strictland the status of an independent nation?

And just who was aware of this information? Your father was a secretary to Mr. Lee Jinwook who was just an assemblyman at that time. Today, he was the current president of Eden with your father still as his secretary. Was there a chance that President Lee knew what your father was up to?

“Luna?”

You looked up to find Yunho, of all the people, standing not too far, leaning against the wall. His watchful gaze travelled from your zoned-out eyes to the marred skin on your thumb, taking notice of all the picking that you had been doing while thinking.

“Are you… alright?”

“Sorry, I’m alright, I was just… thinking,” you said, straightening and arranging your desk. “How can I help you, Mr. Jeong?”

Yunho frowned at your very formal tone, waiting for you to say something but you kept a straight face. “I just… saw you zoning out and called to make sure that you were alright.”

Oh. You licked your lips, looking at your thumb– yikes. “Thank you, Mr. Jeong. I was just taking a little breather. I will get back to work now.”

“That’s not why I–” Yunho began but paused when you picked up a page and started scribbling on it. You were ignoring him on purpose. You were being professional, he thought, probably a bit hurt by how Hongjoong had dealt with you last night. He had heard about it, but he wished he could tell you that they did take your words into consideration.

However, you would probably learn from Hongjoong and Seonghwa themselves after they would be back from their meeting with Secretary Park– which would be in about an hour. Yunho sighed deeply and went back to his room, shutting the door with a bit of an unintentional slam. He sagged into the chair, rubbing his face.

Maybe he should have told you that he called your name twice before you answered. He would have been on his way unnoticed by you but he caught you staring intently into the distance and thought something was wrong.

He had just come back to the office after meeting with Hongjoong and Seonghwa and telling them about his meeting with Kihyun earlier in the morning, where he finally briefed him about the potential deal with Secretary Park as someone who would fund their project and approve the launch of their new drug in the pharmaworld.

“That man is not a good choice, Yunho.” Kihyun said with an adamant shake after Yunho finished telling him the details.

“Why?” Yunho asked. “He is going to become the next Minister of Health. I can’t think of a better choice.”

“People are not all that they seem to be, as you must know by now,” Kihyun spun the pen between his fingers as he said. “Secretary Park… he treads a dangerous path. If you involve yourself with him now, he will take what you have to offer, wring you dry and abolish any remains of your business. As someone who has been acquainted with him in the past, can’t you take my word for it?”

Yunho believed Kihyun– he was one of his closest friends and his gang had helped Ateez become who they were today. So, he decided to ask something a bit personal instead.

“Jeon y/n… she warned us about Secretary Park. She said he is conspiring with Strictland officials to do something illegal and immoral. She offered better options like ex-president Mr. Son or Assemblyman Kim Jooheon.”

“You know,” Kihyun chuckled at that. “She has a knack for these things, she does. And what she has to offer to you is credible, if you can believe it. It’s only a shame that we’re close to retiring and aren’t as ambitious as you, otherwise we would have kept her all to ourselves.”

Somehow, Yunho felt both pride and jealousy to hear that. Pride that you were a part of the Crescents, and jealousy because Kihyun knew you better than he did.

“Who is she really, Kihyun? And why is she helping us?”

“Didn’t she tell you already?” Kihyun smiled in answer. “She only wants you to help her and when it’s time, she’ll use the power you have to take her revenge.”

Unfinished business. Yunho recalled what you had said that night when you made a deal with them for your life.

“I’ll only ask this of you, Yunho,” Kihyun’s smile fell and he leaned forward. “A favour, if you want to call it that, but… don’t hurt her. Protect her. Use her if you have to– she has a lot to offer, and she is well-educated and sharp. She possesses information that could shake not only Eden but the entire continent. She can help you navigate through the dark waters of the underworld. You’ll only have to trust her a little and allow her to trust you back.”

Those words stuck with Yunho for the next hour until the boss and the underboss arrived back from the meeting with Secretary Park. The room filled with silence and palpable tension as Hongjoong and Seonghwa settled down on the sofas, each absently staring at the ceiling or the plant that was in dire need of watering.

“Well?” Yunho decided one minute was enough for them to sort their thoughts out. “Did you end up shaking hands with Secretary Park?”

“Of course not,” Hongjoong took a deep breath. “Not after what Kihyun had to say about our little bookkeeper.”

“Her name’s Luna,” Yunho scoffed at the term Hongjoong kept using to address you and Hongjoong grinned at Yunho’s immediate correction. “It’s just funny that you refuse to say her name when you literally address everyone by their surnames. You don’t even call her Jeon.”

“She’s not even a Jeon,” Seonghwa sighed. “I contacted the RV spies today– Wendy. She refuses to talk about her and told me to save my time and not look for her family. Do you know what that means?”

“That that is exactly what we need to find out?” Hongjoong quipped.

“That her family must be someone influential in Eden. Considering what she knows… she sounds like an insider. A citizen of Edenary, if I have to make a wild guess because no one from the eight sectors could have possessed so much information only to hide in the shadows.”

“Or that,” Hongjoong scoffed, agreeing with Seonghwa. “If she really is from Edenary, she would have either worked there long enough to know these things or… she has family there.”

“I can’t find any information on her– no one in Sector 1 knows her from before 1966, when she came back from Wonderland,” Seonghwa said. “And Secretary Park reacted strangely when we mentioned that we’re reluctant to make a deal with him because of his connection with foreigners.”

“How so?” Yunho asked.

“He wasn’t fazed at all. It was as if he saw it coming, which can only mean one thing…”

The heavy implications of what Seonghwa said filled the room as the three struggled to make sense of it.

“Is there a chance Secretary Park didn’t react because he didn’t know what you were talking about?” Yunho asked cautiously, willing to entertain every possibility right now.

“No,” Hongjoong said, sure about this. “The look in his eyes wasn’t of surprise, it was more of an acceptance. That can only mean that he knew that there was a chance we would be aware of his dealing with Strictland. He can’t have gone and told every other person that he was involved with Strictland, right?”

“Which means he somehow knows that Luna is aware of this knowledge, or he personally knows her– isn’t Kihyun acquainted with Secretary Park? And he refuses to talk about her too?” Seonghwa asked.

Yunho nodded. “And you’re saying the RV spies refused to reveal her identity?”

“Then we have no choice but to ask her,” Hongjoong clapped his hands in conclusion. “Call her.”

“Are you sure?” Seonghwa straightened. “You made it pretty clear last night that she should just stick to her desk.”

“You know that was necessary,” Hongjoong folded his arms. “Things have changed now.”

Yunho got up slowly, footsteps heavy with thought. “I’ll call her inside, but can you both let me do the talking this time?”

While Hongjoong looked surprised, Seonghwa merely smiled knowingly. “Don’t tell me you’ve already taken a liking to her, Yunho.”

Yunho rolled his eyes in amusement before walking outside. Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa in disbelief. “He didn’t deny it. What have you all been doing with her behind my back?”

“Nothing,” Seonghwa chuckled. “But the boys seemed to have taken a liking for our bookkeeper.”

“And you?” Hongjoong cocked his head in curiosity but Seonghwa’s smile revealed nothing to him. Even after all these years, Hongjoong wondered how Seonghwa could hide his feelings from him when he wanted to. Even when he was the one who knew Seonghwa the best.

“Let’s talk about it later,” Seonghwa promised in a whisper.

You entered the room behind Yunho, preparing yourself for whatever was about to happen– for once, you have no idea what. Yunho had been pretty calm when he told you that the boss would like to see you, even waiting for you to follow him which you thought was a bit odd. You greeted the men with a ‘good evening’ and the boss motioned for you to sit next to Seonghwa. It was oddly relieving to have him by your side.

Hongjoong was about to say something but Yunho rested a hand on his thigh, making him pause and relax back instead. You noted the little exchange– it was strange to see the boss submit under someone who was third-in-command. Yunho looked at you, offering a small smile before starting.

“We did not sign the deal with Secretary Park. We only mentioned that we intended to keep our business out of the spotlight for now and it would not be beneficial for us to involve ourselves with someone who was dealing with foreigners.”

You exhaled deeply after hearing that– a bit in relief and a bit in grim acceptance. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“We also noted that he didn’t react when we told him our reasons. Secretary Park… you know him personally, don’t you?”

This time, you chose not to run your mouth, opting for silence. Yunho played with the silver button of his black form-fitting waistcoat, and you fixated your gaze over the silver ring that he wore on his index finger with infinity signs, a ring that all of Ateez wore. They seemed to have a lot of staple jewellery and accessories, like the gold pocket watch the boss had on him at all times, even tonight in his dark brown three-piece.

“I met with Kihyun today, Luna,” Yunho continued and your eyes widened a little– whatever did Kihyun say? “He’s one of our mentors and I take his words seriously. He confirmed Secretary Park was not the man to make such a deal with, and he also said that you had a lot to offer.”

You stifled a smile at that. “What is this really about, Mr. Jeong?”

“Secretary Park… you’re acquainted or even related to him in some way, aren’t you?”

Your smile visibly fell which didn’t go unnoticed. This time, Seonghwa shifted closer, keeping a respectable distance from you as he said, “We’re willing to trust you and involve you in future business dealings if you’re willing to share some information that we should be aware of, before we make this deal with you.”

“I appreciate your kind offer, but I really am only a bookkeeper,” you said, an intentional jab towards the boss himself.

Hongjoong poked his tongue inside his cheek, clearly amused at your challenge. Did you want him to beg? To say please?

“You are also a part of Crescent now, and that means you’re not just a bookkeeper, like Hongjoong might have said last night,” Yunho insisted. “We could find out what your relationship with Secretary Park is through other means but we decided to ask you instead.”

“Then use your other means,” you said with immense effort, tired of this little game. “I belong to the shadows and I will remain there.”

You got up to leave, straightening your maroon skirt. You only took a few steps when you heard the boss’ voice.

“You don’t happen to be the illegitimate daughter of Secretary Park, eh? The one he liked to pretend was his niece instead?”

You didn’t simply stop in your tracks but every muscle in your body tensed. With dread creeping through your nerves, you turned to look at the boss, finding the others equally as surprised at his deduction. Hongjoong’s smirk widened and his eyes gleamed dangerously at the fear in your eyes.

He got up, approaching you slowly. “I’ve been to his house only once, towards the end of the war. Year 1962. He was looking for workers and I was only a colonel at that time, yet to be honoured. I saw his family portrait– he has a son that looks just like him. And then I saw a glimpse of a girl who was looking for her father. Upon asking a servant if the man had other children, they let me know that she was his illegitimate daughter and he pretended that she was his niece.”

Hongjoong noted the way that you gulped and your eyes darted among the three men as if gauging their reactions and trying to find a way out. He continued.

“They said it was understandable because other than the fact that illegitimate kids aren’t treated with respect around here, he was a striving politician and she would only hinder his career. I didn’t realise the little bird left its cage, though…”

“I– I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” you tried but he shook his head.

“We’re going to find one way or another. It’s better if we just hear it from you so we can move on and address the more important matters… Luna.”

You looked at the boss– while he didn’t tower over you like Yunho did, he certainly was more intimidating. His gaze was sharper, his stance more confident and almost bordering on arrogance and his presence was consuming, almost luring.

You could not win.

“Alright, fine,” you gave in, walking back to your seat next to Seonghwa who looked thoroughly amused even though he tried not to appear so. “Yes. I am his daughter– illegitimate daughter. Don’t ask me who the mother is– I don’t know.”

Yunho sucked in his breath in disbelief. “Is that who you’re so scared of?”

“Not just him,” you shook your head. “There are other forces at play. He was just a pharmaceutical business owner at that time– he could not have dealt with Strictland on his own.”

Seonghwa agreed. “Is there anyone you suspect?”

“I don’t know. President Lee seems like the likelier suspect but he’s far too clean for that, which is a bit suspicious. It could be anyone from Eden Hall– another assemblyman or some existing minister or cabinet members. All I know is that what they’re doing is very dangerous. I know more, but I really need to confirm a few things before I can confide in you.”

“Well,” Hongjoong shifted his weight on one leg, thinking. “This certainly changes things. I still need to check a few things about you,” he looked pointedly at you, “but you can continue your bookkeeping duties for now. I’ll see what I’ll do with you later.”

“If you feel like you should share a warning with us at any time, since you know exactly what deals we make on a daily business,” Seonghwa said, his tone unexpectedly warm, “you can let us know. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have asked for Kihyun’s opinion and proceeded with the deal and suffered damage. We owe you one.”

“That’s alright,” you said but he shook his head, insistent. “Can you just keep this a secret? As you must realise now, Secretary Park has gone to great lengths to hide my identity from the world. The fact that he even let me come back to Eden… he might be regretting it now. I can only warn you that he might try to attack me in the future which means someone else could get hurt too.”

“That’s unfortunate. Thank you for letting us know,” Hongjoong gave you a nod and you felt almost reassured. You looked at Yunho who was simply watching you with eyes full of curiosity.

“I’ll go back to the desk now and finish compiling today’s reports,” you said.

“Great, you can leave them with Yunho later,” Seonghwa said. “I have somewhere to be with Hongjoong. Let’s go.”

You had half an hour to complete that report and you came back to that room, knocking before entering. Yunho was still where he sat before and you discussed the report with him before getting up to put it in the cupboard and preparing to go home.

You were putting on your coat and gathering your belongings when Yunho joined you at your desk, his own overcoat in hand. “Care for a stroll?”

You looked at him in surprise but nodded, following him downstairs– he must have a lot of questions. He locked the office behind him and greeted the guard, nudging you towards the main street. Since it was past midnight and this was a business street, it was pretty empty. The offices were shut with only the guards stationed outside trying to keep awake in the lonely hours, or keeping each other company over a little fire in the tub.

You walked in silence for a few moments with only the sound of the cackling of fire and your footsteps accompanying you before he finally asked if you had ever felt targeted while working for the Crescents.

“Up until now, no,” you told him. “But after my father wiped my name off the registers of Eden and gave me a new identity… sometimes it feels like I’m being watched. He wasn’t surprised to hear that you knew about his deal with Strictland, was he?”

“We never explicitly mentioned Strictland but yes, he wasn’t surprised in the least,” Yunho said. “He must have known that you are working here.”

“He probably knew about my job at the bar, at least,” you said. “He has always made sure that I never interacted with someone of power. It’s only a shame that Kihyun took me in and he could do nothing about it.”

“Do you have any suspicions about what he might be doing in Strictland?”

“I only ever heard a bit of it, and I’m not sure exactly what he was referring to, but this might be my chance to confirm if what I heard holds any value,” you said, pausing in the middle of the crossroads in front of the canal, looking around for any passersby but finding none. “Do you know about the nuclear base in Strictland?”

“Everyone knows about it,” Yunho said, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat. “It is suspected that Halaland wants to take over Strictland because they want to resume the operations at the nuclear base and become a nuclear power. That would violate the international arms law which is why they are resorting to playing dirty instead.”

“And the base has been inactive for a while, right?”

“For about thirty years now, yes,” Yunho confirmed.

“I have no idea how much truth this information holds, but I once heard my father talk about something regarding the nuclear base,” you whispered. “He said something about how Halaland knows that Eden has joined hands with Strictland’s nuclear operation officials. I don’t know who in Eden, but he also claimed whatever Halaland was doing– or would be doing– will be in order to protect itself.”

Yunho’s mouth parted in disbelief, his eyes boring into you. “That… that can’t be true.”

“Right?” you wrapped your arms around yourself, looking sideways to the canal. Its murky waters seemed to be reflecting your mood. “That should not be true, but… Mr. Kim said my father– Secretary Park did not react when you mentioned his dealings with foreigners. What other dealings might he have?”

“I hope something else, because if there’s even a slight chance that what you said is true,” Yunho grunted in discomfort. “I can’t imagine the consequences. Does he know that you are aware of this knowledge? Your father?”

“He knows I heard something,” you confirmed. “That’s when things started going downhill for me. He had always made it clear that once I was independent, he was going to change my surname and cut ties with me. But after that day, he just sped up the process, changed my surname to Jeon and sent me to Wonderland to an acquaintance of his.”

Just like that, you wanted to add, recalling how easy it was for the man that claimed to be your father.

“I don’t know if he did that so I would not speak about this or if he had some ounce of guilt for me,” you continued with a scoff, shaking your head. “But he kept tabs on me. He made sure I got a good education and once I was done, he allowed me to come back. I had to beg a little, but he let me come back on the condition that I stay low.”

“Too late for that, isn’t it?” Yunho commented and you looked at him, a smirk creeping on your lips.

“Well, I always planned about how to get back at him. Just because he made a mistake doesn’t mean I get to suffer for it for the rest of my life.”

“That’s right,” Yunho stepped closer to you, facing the canal just like you. For a moment, you shared a comfortable silence, thinking about the implications of your admittance. Yunho cleared his throat as he looked at you. “You must be from Edenary then. Was it tough to adjust in Sector 1?”

Edenary was not just the capital of Eden– it was like a safe haven for the elite class of Eden where they did not have to encounter a common man. Everyone who lived in Edenary was someone who possessed at least one of the three things– wealth, power, or connections. Before the monarchy was abolished in Eden, the royalty resided in Edenary. Now it was home to government officials, politicians, business owners and influencers.

Your heart twisted as you recalled your time in Edenary. Though you had lived in the shadows in Edenary too, there was a point in your life when your father had taken you around with him, introducing you as his niece but still letting you know the ins-and-outs of business in Eden. It was his dream that his child carry on in his footsteps, but his son and your half-brother, Park Sunghoon, had always been incompetent. You suspected he might let you take over his business instead but the fear of his tarnishing his reputation must have outweighed the fear of passing his legacy to someone who was useless. Sunghoon had always been far too short-tempered and reckless. Your father was not proud of him.

“Do you also dream of living in Edenary one day?” You asked, fiddling with your pearl ring.

“We dream of opening an office there, maybe a branch of the Crescent Bar if we’re lucky,” Yunho admitted. “But our home will always be in Sector 1.”

You smiled at that– his admission was unexpected. You outstretched your hand. “This ring is the only symbol of Edenary that I possess. A reminder that I may have found a place somewhere else but my roots remain in Edenary. I don’t miss the life I had, though. It wasn’t much.”

“It must have been better than this?” Yunho asked. You shook your head.

“I’ve only ever felt at home here, in my little apartment that I share with a person who cares about me a lot,” you said. “At the Crescent Bar where I got more respect than I ever got in Edenary.”

“And at the office?” Yunho said and you looked at him, finding an amused look on his face.

“Not yet, and you know that,” you said.

“That could change,” he suggested.

“Definitely,” you nodded. “But for that… you would have to make a little effort.”

“Well, I’m here now, with you, aren’t I?” Yunho said, cocking his head challengingly and you realised that this was his effort. “Tell me how to verify the information you just gave me tonight.”

You took a deep breath. “I’ve thought about it long and hard. I don’t think anyone who is not involved would know, so if you’re a fan of taking someone hostage and interrogating them…”

“We’re really trying to do things the right way, Luna,” he chuckled. “We’ve left that life behind.”

“Yunho, you shot ten men in two minutes just a few months ago, without hesitation,” you reminded him and his brows rose a little in surprise. You thought he was shocked to hear that you finally confronted him about it, but then you realised–

You had called him Yunho.

You were an absolute fool–

“I can do anything to protect the people I care about,” Yunho decided not to point out your informal use of his name, though he couldn’t complain– he had to admit that it was nice to hear his name from your lips. “But any other ideas?”

“Well… you can give someone else a tip and let them do the dirty work for you?” You suggested. “Now might be a nice opportunity to use Assemblyman General Wi. He has been trying to get dirt on President Lee because his term is almost over and he is pretty sure President Lee will be running for presidency again. If you give him a tip, he can verify all of this for you. Plus, if word gets out, Secretary Park will be in big trouble. It could confirm if President Lee is a part of this Strictland business or not, though it’s hard to believe that such a saint of a man could be.”

You often considered confronting President Lee about your father– if he really wasn’t aware of your father’s dealing with Strictland, he was probably the only person who could make things right once and for all. Lee Jinwook had always been in the political scene but he only stepped up as a presidential candidate after his wife, President Han Hyojoo, was assassinated three years into her term. She had ruled Eden right after the Treaty of the Eight Hills when President Son’s term ended, and the way she strengthened Eden’s defence and helped rebuild the land was an admirable feat but also earned her enemies.

President Lee always had a clean and morally upright image and though his succession was quick and easy, he continued his wife’s legacy and boosted Eden’s morale. He was a good president and Eden was flourishing in his reign just as it had in his wife’s reign. Days after his wife was assassinated, he laid the foundations of a hospital in his late wife’s memory. You recalled reading an article about it– that was in 1963, right after you came back from Wonderland. In his interview, he said that his wife had always dreamed about making a hospital in Eden that would focus on maternity services and advancements ever since they lost their child a couple of months after birth, and that it was a shame she couldn’t live long enough to see the hospital functioning.

It was thoughtful how he was fulfilling his late wife’s dreams even after her death. Such a man couldn’t be capable of such sinister actions, could he?

“If President Lee is a part of this, he could end up having your father killed to protect himself,” Yunho said and you sucked in a breath. “That’s how these people operate. Are you sure you want that? And even before that, Secretary Park would try to get at you for leaking that information. Your life could be in danger too.”

“It already is,” you shrugged. “An anonymous tip to General Wi– he’s a military man and Strictland is under military control. It would make sense that General Wi stumbled upon this information himself.”

Yunho hummed in agreement. “Shall I walk you home?”

Your heart did a little flip at his offer and that had you wondering… just how much should you involve yourself with the Crescents?

“Thank you for the offer… Mr. Jeong,” you said and Yunho noted the formality in your tone, “but I would rather walk myself home. Goodnight, and… thank you for tonight.”

Yunho considered insisting but he knew it would be too much for you, for now. Though he liked spending time in your company and wished to find out more about you or simply talk with you, this was not the time, and you had made your stance clear– he was only Mr. Jeong of Crescent to you, as he should be, but…

Did he wish to be more?

“Goodnight, and… I’m only carrying out my duty,” he said, confirming the distance between the two of you. “If you ever feel like you’re under threat or need some assistance, you can let us know. You are a part of our company and it is our obligation to protect you.”

Well. What a way to put it, you thought. With another thanks, you separated your paths for the remainder of the night.

Over the next few days, things at work became just a bit less overwhelming and you found yourself almost adapting to the new routine. Eunha and Jihoon noticed that you were competent and efficient and even Jihoon complimented you over handling a task that he was having a tough time with.

Every day after the midday slot, Eunha and you would go for lunch in one of the nearby cafes. Eunha told you that she used to have lunch with Jihoon almost everyday but with the shift in schedules, they couldn’t eat lunch together anymore and she admitted that surprisingly, she missed that. You asked what exactly did she miss about having lunch with Jihoon and got your answer later that day when he finally joined the two of you– a first for you. You were having sandwiches for lunch and while you both chattered about trivial stuff, he complained about the weather, the cucumbers in his sandwich, his milkshake being too bland and you knew then.

It was his way of contributing to the conversation, and the fact that he had joined you for lunch was enough. You told him that you hoped he would join you both often from now on and he just shrugged awkwardly though you caught him smiling to himself afterwards. He also made a point to scold you both for wasting too much time deciding on a spot and you both just retorted with a crude gesture (Eunha) and assigning him with the responsibility of picking lunch spots moving forwards (you).

It was just another day in the month of May with the shift of seasons bringing about rain and prompting you to dress up warmly. The weather in this part of the continent didn’t change much throughout the year, remaining a sticky cold in the summers with the rain and freezing towards the end of the year. You started to keep an umbrella on you and switched to boots and warm gloves, though you kept your net gloves in your purse in case you needed to wear them to a formal meeting. Just like the change in the colour saturation of Eden and its hues, your ensembles shifted to darker, moodier tones. The only constant would always be the pearl ring from home, often the only glimmer on you.

You reached ten minutes before 6pm and Eunha, just like every other day, sighed happily at the sight of you. Really, the sigh came out of sheer relief that she could go home now. With a kiss blown in your direction, she hurried off, her light pink hair very much like cotton candy as they fluffed up with every happy skip she made down the stairs.

You shook your head in amusement at her fading figure and straightened your back before assessing the reports and the latest updates. When the boss had called off the deal with Secretary Park just a few days ago, rumours of it went around town and some called it ‘a rejection to the president himself’ since it was known that a secretary basically did all of the president’s work. Others admired the fact that the Crescents didn’t bend to the secretary’s will like everyone else did, without knowing the context.

While it infuriated you how people were so quick to make something out of nothing– nothing that they knew about– you also noticed how the Crescents started getting more offers for collaboration by different businessmen and government officials. Yunho provided you with a list of people that they were considering for their new project. No one was aware of what exactly was the Crescent’s new project and you were almost still in the dark too– nothing confirmed and nothing denied. You told yourself that you did not need to ask just what this project was about and you could let them know your opinion anyway, but your achilles heel had always been your curiosity and your adventurous spark, a deadly combination. You would do just about anything to silence the buzzing in your brain.

About two hours passed when you heard light footsteps and the familiar scrawny figure of the young informant entered your vision. You set your pen down, a satisfied exhale leaving your mouth at the way your joints cracked when you stretched.

“Is the Captain inside?”

“Good evening to you too, kid,” you shook your head. “Yes, he’s inside.”

Jaemin smirked and you made a face at him. “Nice hair today.”

“Really?” You blinked in surprise. “I wear it like this every day though?”

The question was directed more to yourself. Jaemin went towards the boss’ room and knocked, entering a moment later. You dug the compact mirror out of your purse and checked your hair–

And sure enough, a tuft of hair was sticking out near your temple on the right side. You groaned loudly, fixing it and groaned even louder when you realised why Hongjoong had looked at you for a moment longer than usual when he greeted you today, and why he had a little smile on his face when he went to his room.

Damn it.

You waited for Jaemin to come out and you called him over. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, madame,” he bowed dramatically.

“Why do you call Mr. Kim the Captain?”

“Well… he is the boss, the leader, so captain is just another word to address him, right?” he grinned. “I like the sound of it.”

“Fair enough,” you said. “How did you become an informant?”

“Your question of the day has been used up. Adios!” Jaemin saluted mockingly and ran away before you could call his name or chuck something at him– you just sat there watching with your hand awkwardly stretched in the air as if you could have grabbed him from across the desk.

Menace.

You went back to focusing on the monthly budget report that you had been studying, trying to spot any discrepancies. This time, you were in charge of presenting the monthly report to the boss and you wanted to make sure everything looked okay, especially with their new deal. Whoever was in charge of handling the tracking of their money was doing a pretty damn good job. On the surface, the Crescents were exchanging Black Shadow with the latest machine parts– the produce from Pledis Manufacturers which was a cover for the actual export that was the weapons– with Utopia.

Black Shadow was a very strong red wine, a staple of Utopia, the land known for its wineries and extensive collection of all sorts of wines. While the Crescents were still a gang, they became acquainted with some of the winemakers, got mentored and secured a deal so that their business began with the Crescent Bar. Now the Crescent Bar was the only spot in all of Eden where this fine wine was available. You thought that was an admirable feat– it must not have been easy to convince the Utopians to export their wine. You supposed Utopia must really be in dire need of weapons as well to share their best wine with Eden.

On the sidelines, though, Black Shadow and other liquor was being smuggled to Mist Island in exchange for raw metal that was required in the production of those machine parts and weapons by Pledis. Simply sending wine in exchange for metal did not cover the discrepancy in costs, so you made a mental note to bring this to light in the meeting later this week. It had gone unnoticed the past few months but from your experience from the time in Wonderland when you had a part time job at a bank, you knew that someone was bound to raise suspicions of where the Crescents were spending all that money.

You did not realise how much time passed when you heard Yunho’s office door open and you looked at him, finding him wearing his overcoat. There was still an hour until your shift would be over so Yunho must have some engagement. He approached you and asked if you were done compiling the report.

“Yeah, I was just wrapping up. Do you want me to put it in your office later?”

Yunho pursed his lips in thought. “Actually, you know what? If you’re done for tonight, you can leave as well. No point staying until midnight. Seonghwa won’t be here tonight either.”

“Oh, well, sure,” you tried not to show how happy you were to leave early. “Let me put this away before you lock your room then.”

Yunho nodded and waited for you and when you came back, you found him with your coat in his hands and he offered to help you wear it. You stood still.

“Mr. Jeong. I can wear my coat on my own.”

“I know,” he shrugged, not letting go of it. “Are you going to keep me waiting though?”

You looked at him pointedly before giving in, going to grab your purse before he would try to do that for you too. “How very gentlemanly of you.”

Yunho scoffed, outstretching his arm. “After you.”

In the past few days, Yunho’s behaviour towards you had been nothing short of odd. Sometimes, he was the Mr. Jeong that you had always known– unapproachable, reserved and a man of few but meaningful words.

And the other times, well… you weren’t sure if this was just how he had always been, but it was strange to experience it firsthand. He was considerate, just like tonight. He would make sure you’d had dinner. He would ask if you were faring well when you would go to discuss the reports with him. He would make a casual remark or even a joke if he felt like it. Overall, you were sure that he knew the difference between being professional and casual very well–

And boy, was he tiptoeing right at the borderline.

He held the door for you and you told him the guard would have done it anyway but he only smiled. And then he mockingly saluted because you had made it a point of calling him ‘lieutenant’ whenever you needed to get a point across. That made you laugh a little and you said goodnight, going in opposite directions.

You were only a few steps down your road when you thought you could just walk with him and discuss the details about the Mist Island finances that had been nagging you all this time. You turned, speed-walking towards him in the dark street and were about to call his name when you stopped in your tracks.

There was a man who had slipped right behind him from an alley and you were half sure Yunho hadn’t noticed his presence. The man was walking quite awkwardly, tense and fidgeting, almost–

Almost as if he was about to attack Yunho.

And sure enough, you saw his hand resting right above his hip where he would be hiding a gun under his jacket.

With all your senses heightening, you willed yourself to remain calm and think– if you screamed, it would probably end badly. You could go back and alert the guard or find someone, anyone, but it might be too late–

And then you remembered that you had a gun in your purse.

You switched to the street on your right, rushing through the alleys as silently as you could, gun in hand and a scream lodged in your throat that threatened to escape at any second. You spotted Yunho whenever the alley opened into the street and every time, relief and urgency clashed. With pure adrenaline fueling you, you waited for Yunho to turn right at the crossroads– if he turned left, you would have to step in and you hoped that would not be the case.

As soon as Yunho turned right, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the alley, a surprised exhale exiting his mouth. You rushed to hide, finding a spot to squeeze into which was covered by abandoned boards that would hopefully help conceal your figures. You aimed the gun at the street, hoping to get a visual of the man, the sounds of your breaths and Yunho’s gun being loaded feeling too loud. He tried lowering your gun, intending to take care of the situation but you shook your head, gently pushing him aside despite the lack of space, as if you could cover him.

“I need to see if it is someone I recognise,” you whispered. “And you really don’t need to kill tonight.”

“I rarely ever kill, y/n,” he said, “Only immobilise.”

You didn’t respond, and if you hadn’t been worrying about your lives, maybe you would have noticed that he called you by your name instead of Luna. Your gaze remained focused on the street, aiming to identify the man.

“Is that someone you recognise?”

“Never seen him before,” Yunho bent down a little into the light to get a clearer vision. “Might just be a thug.”

You remained in your position with your gun aimed at the confused man who looked around warily before tracing his steps back. However, you kept the gun trained where you last spotted him and it wasn’t until Yunho put a hand over yours and gently lowered it that you let out the breath that you had been holding.

You made the mistake of looking at him, the realisation that you both were okay crashing on you like a fierce, cold wave. You took a shaky breath, resting your back against the wall and gripping the edge of a box nearby to hold yourself steady. Yunho looked quite alright, casually resting his back against the wall in front of you. You realised how narrow the alley was because his knees brushed against your legs.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just… catching my breath,” you whispered. “Does this happen often?”

“Not that often– not like this, at least,” Yunho looked for any signs of the man in the street. “Usually it’s a gang targeting us, not an individual.”

You nodded, thinking about the attack that night at the bar. This was different. Had this man intended to shoot Yunho or just take him hostage?

“I’ll go do a quick scan of the area and see if there are more men–”

You grabbed his arm as he tried to exit the alley and pulled him back to his original spot. Yunho shook his head. “I need to check if there are more men, and if anyone else was hurt–”

“No,” you insisted, tightening the grip on his arm. “It’s dangerous.”

“You’re telling that to me?” Yunho asked, reminding you that he was an honoured lieutenant colonel and knew how to deal with situations like these, but you weren’t having any of it. You shook your head adamantly.

“We will leave together, after a few minutes.”

And then, with a crashing realisation, Yunho understood that you were not just scared for yourself. You were scared for him too.

He didn’t know why but your words, spoken and unspoken, wrapped around his heart like an embrace. With a shaky sigh of his own, he resigned to his previous position, though this time he stood just a little closer to you. He noticed how you were still holding the gun while your hand trembled– you had obviously never actually used it.

“You’re a fool,” Yunho said in a low voice. “You should not have come after me. I could have dealt with that on my own. I would have gotten answers out of him–”

“He meant to shoot you, Yunho,” you said, and this time you called his name on purpose. “I did what I had to.”

“You could have gotten hurt, Luna,” Yunho leaned forward to be at your eye level. “You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger.”

“I have a gun–”

“A gun you’ve clearly never used before, at least not on a real person,” Yunho reproached, grabbing your shaky hand to prove his point. “Would you have used it tonight? If things went wrong?”

You didn’t answer that, too focused on the way his hand intertwined with yours and even with the weapon preventing full contact, you felt the comfort of his touch seep through your skin and slowly, but surely, calm your nerves.

“Shall I teach you how to use a gun some day?” Yunho’s low voice almost reverberated in your skull and you looked at him in shock, finding him a bit too close– you could see the excited glimmer in his pupils.

“I can protect myself without using a gun too,” you managed to say, wincing inside at the weak retort. You clearly couldn’t.

“But you can protect me too if you know how to use a gun,” Yunho said teasingly, a smirk creeping on his lips. You rolled your eyes briefly but he wasn’t backing away and neither did you want him to. His fingers caressing the skin on your hand was something you didn’t want to stop anytime soon.

“I’m pretty sure you can take good care of yourself, Lieutenant,” you challenged. “You definitely had it under control tonight.”

Yunho laughed then, a bit embarrassed because he clearly had not noticed anything amiss and if it weren’t for you, it might have gone very wrong. You laughed along because wow. You made Jeong Yunho laugh for the first time. The sound of his sweet, shy chuckle went straight to your brain, making you dizzy for a hot second. You broke out of your trance, pushing him away with immense effort. He took it as teasing, thankfully, not knowing that you wanted to do anything but put distance between you two at that moment.

God, you thought. You needed a drink.

Yunho squeezed your hand once before letting it go, perhaps realising how casual he just had been. This time, you let him survey the area you were already sure was clear. He came back and signalled for you to come outside, walking with you back to the path you should have been on in the first place.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You asked. “You left early tonight.”

“Just home,” Yunho said. “The maknaes were going to drop by.”

You hummed– he must mean the warehouse boys– Mingi, Wooyoung and Jongho. You often caught them at the Crescent Bar when you worked there, and it was always very lively when they dropped by. Wooyoung, in particular, always added life to the bar.

“You can be on your way then. I’ll walk home–”

“No chance,” he shook his head. “I’m walking you home tonight, whether you like it or not.”

You knew you had no choice and surrendered. It wasn’t a long walk so you decided to tell him about how you had spotted some discrepancies in their finances and wanted to discuss them with the boss. He told you to run over them with Seonghwa first before Hongjoong and you agreed.

“This is me,” you told him when you reached Regulus Street, pointing at your apartment. “I would invite you in for a drink or something, but I have a roommate and I’m not sure if she would like it...”

“Thanks for the offer. I’ll accept the gesture,” Yunho placed his hand over his heart, taking a few steps backward while maintaining eye contact. You watched him with a smile creeping on your lips– he was unexpectedly goofy at times.

“Goodnight then?” You laughed, unsure what he was doing.

“Thank you, Luna,” he finally said and you scoffed. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me two,” you told him. “You owe me one for stopping the deal with Secretary Park too.”

“Ah, is that so?” He raised a brow. “How would you like me to pay you back?”

Maybe he hadn’t meant it like that, but the implications of those words sent a wave of warmth coursing throughout your body. It didn’t help that he was smirking, probably understanding why you were rendered speechless.

“Well…” you managed to say, clearing your throat. “We’ll burn that bridge when we have to cross it.”

“Fair enough. Goodnight, Luna.”

Something had changed indefinitely between you and Yunho.

Perhaps, you wondered, it would still have come to this even if you hadn’t shared those moments a few nights ago. You would like to believe that. You were not complaining about the change– it wasn’t much. He was just more friendlier and casual towards you now, but…

It was as if he wanted to see you break.

You appreciated the change in his manners, yes. He wasn’t cold towards you anymore, even when he maintained a professional stance. It kind of reminded you of Seonghwa– he had always been kind and gentle towards you and something about him had always been comforting, even when he had put death on the table between you two. It was a dangerous trait, you supposed. It was Seonghwa’s weapon, but–

Gentleness seemed to be Yunho’s gift. If someone cared to look past his rough edges and mannerism, they would be rewarded with a nature so gentle that it would make them wonder how such contrasting traits could coexist within the same person.

And it wasn’t the gentleness that was killing you, no. Such was a trait that every man should possess.

It was the way he wielded it to rile you up– there was no other explanation. You kept placing walls between the two of you even with the change and he kept scaling them effortlessly with just a casual brush of his fingers against yours, an assuring or encouraging touch on your shoulder, or even–

God, even the way he tucked your hair behind your ears the other day when you had come back from the storage with a big pile of files in your arms, the front strands of your hair having escaped the hold of the pins. And the first thing Yunho thought to do was not to take some obvious weight off your shoulders but to tuck your hair behind your ears with his brows furrowed in concentration, those damned big brown eyes almost unrecognisable in that moment.

Perhaps, he didn’t even realise he had done that.

And you wished you could ask him if that was true.

“Luna?” Seonghwa’s voice called and you found him peeking out of Yunho’s room. “You can come in to brief me now.”

“Alright,” you said, the report already in your hands as you got up. You straightened your clothes before you entered the room, taking a seat in front of him and opening the files to show him the numbers. You briefed him about what you had done so far before getting to the point.

“The net cash exchange between the wine and the metal is 74.27 percent, which includes all the expenses including necessary licences and fragile care. 25.73 percent of the amount is completely unaccounted for– we’re paying Mist Island but on papers and bank statements, it’s not exactly clear what this amount of money is being used for. For personal purposes, maybe, but one day they’re going to notice it and make a big deal out of it. It’s better if we have a cover for this too. No matter how small the amount is.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Seonghwa took a deep breath, resigning back on the sofa. “Any suggestions?”

“Well,” you thought about it. “We’ll have to manipulate a few documents if we want to adjust this amount in pre-existing channels. That, or have something to prove the money has been put to use– like donations or artwork.”

“Hmm, sounds like a good idea. I’ll discuss it with Hongjoong and get back on that, yeah?”

The door opened and Yunho entered, having come back from one of his meetings. You nodded at Seonghwa, saying you would wait for a heads-up before drafting the monthly report.

And at that moment, Yunho, who had been standing behind your sofa and looking at the documents on the table, decided to not disturb your conversation with Seonghwa and take the matters into his own hands, resting a hand on your upper back for support as he leaned forward to take the file from the table.

Your breath hitched and you were glad you had just finished a sentence– he was too close, and you were reminded once again that you were only reacting to such casual actions because this was Jeong Yunho.

And you wanted to kill him a little when he stayed there and asked if this was the report you had mentioned to him. You nodded and only then did he back away to go sit at his desk. You looked at Seonghwa whose expressions betrayed nothing.

“Well then, I’ll be on my way,” you told him and he nodded, praising you with the usual ‘good job’ and watching you fumble with the folders before you left the room. Seonghwa chuckled to himself and turned his gaze to the consigliere.

“Lieutenant Colonel Jeong Yunho,” he called, making Yunho drop the file on the table to look at him.

“Why are you suddenly calling my rank?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, thoroughly amused.

“What do you mean?”

“Luna,” Seonghwa said, running a hand through his long hair. “I’m not blind, Yunho.”

“Yeah, but you’re an idiot,” Yunho went back to looking at his file.

“You haven’t shown interest like that in quite a while. Is it wrong to be curious?” Seonghwa asked.

“Well,” Yunho looked at his hyung. “She’s… interesting.”

“Interesting,” Seonghwa repeated but in a different context. “I’ll be damned.”

“Don’t you like her, just a little bit, too?” Yunho asked, smirking. “You’ve never taken someone this seriously, like, ever.”

“I have to take her seriously when she talks like she already belongs here,” Seonghwa said. “And you know what? I think she could be more than just our little bookkeeper.”

Yunho noted the term Seonghwa had used though he decided not to comment on it yet. “What do you plan to do? Are you really going to involve her in the full business?”

Seonghwa smiled knowingly, already having planned out details that none of the others might have considered.

That night, you found yourself outside the Crescent Bar again. You stood thinking for a few moments before you entered, making your way towards the office that had once been your little safe haven– an escape from the boisterous outside world. You knocked at the door but no one answered. You pushed the door just a fraction, finding it unlocked which meant Yeosang must be around. You decided to just make yourself at home, damned be the consequences, and went inside to sit on the couch and curl in on yourself.

There was too much going on. There was too much you were feeling, and you had no one to share these thoughts with. You weren’t even sure if you should be sharing these thoughts. You were an anomaly, you always had been–

The door opened and you were met with a deadly silence instead of a greeting. You looked up to see Yeosang clutching his chest.

“Shit, I thought I was seeing things. You scared me, Luna,” he said, shutting the door and sitting on his chair. “What’s up with you?”

“I missed you too,” you laughed. “How have you been?”

“As good as ever, I suppose. Better now that you’re not nagging me on a daily basis. Thriving, as some might say–”

You chucked a cushion at him which he caught and rested on his lap. “What are you really doing here?”

“Am I not welcome here?”

“Of course you are, this will always be your office,” Yeosang said, making you smile. “But I’d rather know what’s up so I can order an appropriate drink.”

“Bring me your strongest.”

“On it,” he grinned, going out to get the drink himself, returning with two glasses. Amused, you watched him pop the cork dramatically and fill the glasses a little more than average, swirling the wine just enough before he handed you one.

“It’s an honour,” you said, truly meaning it. “You’ve never served me like this. You’ve only ever served the boys.”

“I’ve heard rumours that you act too much like a Crescent yourself,” he said, sipping his drink and sitting on the desk. “You’ve got guns and big reports up your sleeves now.”

“Yikes,” you downed the drink and Yeosang filled your glass again. “Am I not supposed to? Not that I’m trying to be one of you.”

“Sounds insulting for some reason,” he commented. “But good words only, Luna. I’ve only heard good things about you. Makes me wonder what kind of a boss I was to not realise your potential.”

“You did. I became your bookkeeper. I was also your best employee for two months straight, wasn’t I?”

“And then you told me I was clumsy and I put you on my blacklist,” Yeosang huffed.

“You broke your most expensive tray. I wanted to kill you,” you almost cried as you recalled that chaotic night at the bar a few months ago. “That tray was the prettiest one we had.”

“And you’re already drunk,” Yeosang chuckled at the way you ran your mouth so freely– perhaps, it was also because you were no longer boss and employee. “Now tell me… why did you come here?”

“Why do you all want me to say everything out loud?” You groaned in frustration. “I wanted to be here, obviously. You know this office was like my safe haven. I always come here when I am overwhelmed.”

“And what’s got you so overwhelmed, love?” Yeosang asked gently and your heart fluttered at the change in his tone.

“You,” you muttered, surprising him. “And Mr. Jeong. And Mr. Park. And your boss but I tend to avoid him so I won’t complain yet. And San!”

“San?” Yeosang laughed. “What did he do?”

“Nothing, I’m just dragging him into this,” you rested your head on your knees, hugging them to your chest. “It’s just… you’re all confusing me and I don’t like it. I don’t like being in unexpected situations.”

Yeosang hummed in thought. He knew what was up with you and Seonghwa, and you and Yunho. The boys– none of them hid anything from anyone. They had always been bare with each other, so he knew that Yunho was a little into you even though he never said it. Yeosang wasn’t oblivious to the way Yunho’s eyes lit up or the way his attention shifted any time someone mentioned you.

Yeosang also wasn’t oblivious to how much you occupied Seonghwa’s headspace even though he pretended to be unfazed. He could tell that Seonghwa was bordering on the lines between admiration and adoration for you.

And while Hongjoong himself hadn’t expressed any personal feelings about you, he knew that once you would properly interact with him, you would find yourself charmed by him too– Hongjoong was like that. And San… he had seen you that night opening up to San and watched fondly from the distance.

But it kind of blew him a little that he was the source of your confusion too. Perhaps, it was because you had worked with him so long. You were friends, that was for sure. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here right now. But why were you overwhelmed because of him? It wasn’t the proximity– you two had shared a lot of time in this office in the past. A lack of proximity then? Did you actually, truly miss him? Did the distance really make you fonder of each other?

With caution, he settled down in front of you and took your glass from your hands. “That is enough drinking.”

“It’s not,” you whispered, not looking at him.

“Just say what’s on your mind, Luna,” Yeosang said, turning his full attention to you. “You know I’ve never judged you and never will.”

You smiled at that. Even with the lack of explanations you gave for your actions or your behaviour, Yeosang always tried to understand you, and that was what you liked about him. Sometimes, you couldn’t quite believe that he had ever been anything else other than a bar manager. How could this man have gone to the war at such a young age and intercepted multiple messages, saving countless lives? How could he be a part of the gang that had a repute like none other?

“It’s hard to put it into words,” you sighed deeply. “And I don’t even know what I would say anyway. Nothing makes sense, yet everything does. Now that I don’t have to hide who I am from you… it’s like I’m living a new life all over again.”

“Yet you’re still the same old Luna that we all adore.”

“So you adore me then?”

“Did hearing that make you feel better?” Yeosang shook his head and you grinned. “I’ve always adored you, Luna, in my own ways. Does that help?”

“I thought you hated– okay, not hated, but… only tolerated me. Maximum liked me a little. But you’re saying you adore me.”

“I do,” he pinched your nose. “Especially when you’re tipsy.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said, uncurling and sitting properly, still facing him. “Can I ask you something… strange? You can blame it on me being tipsy later.”

“Go ahead,” Yeosang grabbed the glasses and filled them again, handing you yours. “Let’s blame tonight on being drunk.”

“Hmm, I knew coming here tonight was a good idea,” you downed the drink in one go, setting the glass aside and looking at your former boss. “Have you ever liked someone? Like really, really like someone?”

“I have,” Yeosang said and your brows rose momentarily in surprise.

“How do you know you don’t like them like you would just another person?” You asked. “Is there something I’m supposed to feel?”

“Let’s test that out,” Yeosang said in such a low voice that you almost missed it. He leaned forward a bit more than he should have, twirling a few strands of your hair between his fingers. You got a good look at that heartbreakingly gorgeous face– it was a crime to be this beautiful and stay inside the bar almost all the time, you often thought. Your breath hitched when Yeosang’s finger traced the vein along your neck and then he locked eyes with you.

“Who is it that you like so much, y/n?”

“That’s the thing,” you whispered, kneeling into his touch when his hand went to cup your face. “I don’t know.”

Yeosang smiled knowingly though, his eyes travelling all over your face, stopping at your parted lips a few times– he was too obvious. Your heart was beating frantically and for once, you did not know what to do. You may have come here because of another man (or two) but now you were almost in the arms of someone else entirely. His other hand was holding yours– when did that happen? And bringing you closer.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you felt his warm breath on your cheek before he kissed it lightly. You drew back, a bit surprised but wanting more.

“You can sort your thoughts out when you’re sober,” Yeosang said. “You should rest, for now. It must have been a long day.”

Before he could draw his hand away, you scooted closer and he chuckled when you rested your head against his shoulder. “It’s because I’m tired.”

“Whatever you say, Luna,” he patted your arm. “It’s certainly not because you miss me.”

“Certainly not,” you confirmed, the both of you laughing at the obvious lie. “And definitely not because I may like you a little too much.”

“Oh,” Yeosang pulled you closer in the half embrace. “Definitely not.”

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bearxgyeomie · 4 days ago

Text

Bound in gold

paring: mingi x fem¡reader

synopsis: y/n, born into a corrupt family’s wealth, grows up unaware of the truth. When her family loses everything, they push her to marry Mingi for financial gain. But knowing the truth now, y/n refuses and chooses to move away, but something brings her back.

wc: 4.5k

genre: one shot, yandere, angst, infidelity.

You had everything. Wealth, power, a life others could only dream of. But it was never your dream. it was theirs.

Born into a family of privilege, you grew up surrounded by luxury. Grand mansions, diamond jewelry, private jets nothing was out of reach. People spoke your father’s name with admiration, but behind closed doors, they whispered. You never knew why.

And then, there was Mingi.

He had always been there, like a constant in your life. You were both young when you met, two children playing in golden halls. Mingi was from a family just as rich as yours, but there was always something different about him. He never let the wealth define him the way others did.

More than that, he was gentle.

Gentler than your father’s firm grip on your shoulder.

Gentler than your mother’s sharp tongue when she reminded you who you were supposed to be. Mingi was the only one who ever made you feel like just you.

But there was a truth you didn’t know.

Mingi’s family used to be close with yours. Until your parents cut them off. Betrayed them in business, leaving them to struggle while yours thrived. His family wanted revenge, but when the time came, and they saw you a sweet, clueless little girl they couldn’t do it. Instead, they sent Mingi to be your friend. Not to hurt you. Not to use you.

But to save you.

And for years, he tried.

The night everything fell apart, you were in your father’s study, a place you had never truly belonged. Papers were scattered across the desk, numbers flashing on a laptop screen. The air was thick with tension.

“We lost everything,” your father said. His voice, always strong, now wavered. “Everything. We need to fix this.”

Your mother sat beside him, her nails digging into her silk dress. “There’s only one solution.”

Then they looked at you.

You already knew.

“You want me to marry Mingi.” Your voice was hollow.

Your mother straightened. “It’s not just about you. It’s about all of us. His family is wealthy more than we ever were. If you marry him, we can rebuild.”

You scoffed. “You think I can just use him like that?”

“Of course, you can.” Your father’s expression hardened. “You grew up learning how to survive, didn’t you? You think love is more important than survival?”

Love.

Did you love Mingi?

You weren’t sure. There was something there, something lingering in every glance, in every touch. But this wasn’t about love. This was about desperation.

And you refused to be part of it.

Mingi found you later that night, standing on the balcony of your family’s estate. The city stretched below, lights flickering like distant stars. You didn’t turn when he stepped beside you.

“You heard, didn’t you?” you asked.

He sighed. “Yeah.”

Silence.

Then, softer, “What are you going to do?”

You swallowed hard, gripping the railing. “I’m leaving.”

Mingi tensed beside you. “Leaving?”

You turned to face him. “I can’t be part of this anymore. My whole life—everything I had—it wasn’t real. It was built on lies, and I let myself believe it because it was easier that way. But I know the truth now, and I can’t stay here.”

He searched your face. “And what about me?”

Your breath hitched.

“Mingi…”

“Don’t do this,” he murmured. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I do,” you said, voice breaking. “Because if I stay, I’ll never know who I am without them.”

Mingi’s jaw clenched. He had always known this moment would come, but knowing didn’t make it easier.

Finally, he exhaled, stepping closer. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, careful. Gentle.

“I would’ve married you, you know.”

Your chest ached. “I know.”

And for a moment, you let yourself imagine it. A world where you were free, but not alone. A world where you could love Mingi without the weight of expectation. But that world didn’t exist.

Not yet.

So you stepped back.

“I have to go.”

Mingi didn’t stop you.

Because even after everything, he was always gentle with you.

Years had passed since you left.

You spent them running—new cities, new names, new lives that never truly felt like yours. But no matter how far you went, the past followed. Shadows lingered in alleyways, whispers slipped through cracked doors, and faceless figures watched from the dark.

You had once been untouchable. Now, you were prey.

It was time to stop running.

So you came back.

⸻

The city was the same. Glass towers stretched into the sky, and the streets buzzed with people who never noticed you slipping back into their world. But there was one thing different.

Mingi.

He wasn’t yours anymore.

You found out from a passing conversation, the words hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“He’s engaged?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Your informant, a former housekeeper who always had a soft spot for you nodded. “To Leeyeon. She’s from a good family, well-mannered, beautiful. He loves her.” A pause. “But not like he loved you.”

Your heart clenched. “Does he know I’m back?”

“I don’t think so.”

Good. You weren’t ready.

Not yet.

Mingi was at a gala when he saw you again.

A glimpse. That’s all it was at first.

A figure in the crowd, a face he used to know, a ghost from his past. His breath hitched, his body stiffening as he followed the familiar curve of your jaw, the way your eyes scanned the room like you weren’t sure if you belonged here anymore.

Then your eyes met.

And just like that, time unraveled.

“Y/n.”

The name left his lips before he could stop it, his voice drowning in the music and chatter. His fiancée, Leeyeon, stood beside him, her hand resting on his arm, but he barely noticed.

You took a step back.

Then another.

And then you were gone.

Days passed before he saw you again.

He found you where he always knew you’d be—standing on the balcony of your family’s old estate, staring at the city like it held the answers you’d spent years searching for.

“You came back.” His voice was rough, uneven.

You didn’t turn around. “I had to.”

He stepped closer, hesitating. “Why now?”

You exhaled. “They were following me.”

Mingi stilled.

“They never forgot,” you continued. “The people my family ruined, the ones left in the dark while we lived in luxury. They waited. And when I ran, they chased.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“You should’ve told me.”

Your hands curled into fists. And what would you have done, Mingi? Fixed it? You’re engaged. You have a life. You don’t owe me anything anymore.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not true.”

You finally turned, meeting his gaze. “It has to be.”

Leeyeon was pregnant.

Mingi found out weeks later, the news delivered over dinner.

“I’m pregnant,” she had whispered, her hand resting on her stomach.

He had frozen, the weight of the moment sinking into his bones.

This was good. This was supposed to be good.

But all he could think about was the way he still woke up calling your name.

You tried to stay away.

Mingi tried to move forward.

Neither of you succeeded.

Fate was cruel, throwing you together in fleeting moments—passing glances, lingering touches, unsaid words that screamed between you. Every time you got close, something pulled you apart.

Until the truth finally shattered.

Leeyeon had cheated on him.

And not just with anyone.

With San.

His best friend.

The betrayal burned deep, but nothing hurt more than the final blow—

The baby wasn’t his.

Mingi found you that night.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t have to.

Because when he looked at you, his walls finally crumbled.

And when you looked at him, you saw home.

This time, when you stepped closer, nothing pulled you apart.

This time, when you reached for the lock—

It clicked into place.

Mingi still didn’t know.

He still didn’t know that the baby wasn’t his.

Leeyeon’s betrayal remained a secret, buried beneath soft kisses and whispered reassurances. She clung to him, played the part of the perfect fiancée, the devoted mother-to-be.

And Mingi?

He stayed.

For the baby.

That’s what he told himself.

That’s what he told everyone.

But at night, when the city was asleep—when the world was quiet and he was finally alone with his thoughts—he found himself somewhere else.

With you.

The first time it happened, you told yourself it was a mistake.

You weren’t sure how you ended up in his car that night, parked outside your apartment, the silence between you thick with something neither of you wanted to name.

“Mingi,” you had whispered, shaking your head. “This is wrong.”

But his lips found yours before you could stop him.

And just like that, you were his again.

It became a pattern.

Late nights. Stolen moments.

He’d come to you after Leeyeon fell asleep, slipping away with nothing but a quiet excuse and a guilty heart. And when he reached you, when his hands found your body and his lips traced the skin he used to know so well—he felt alive.

For the first time in years, he felt alive.

“You’re not staying,” you murmured one night, your fingers tracing the sweat-slicked skin of his back.

Mingi exhaled sharply, still catching his breath. “You know I can’t.”

You rolled onto your side, watching him. “Why?”

His jaw tightened. “You know why.”

“Because of the baby.”

Silence.

Then—

“You think I want this?” He turned to you, his voice lower now, rough. “You think I want to go back to her after this? After you?”

“Then don’t.”

His fingers curled into the sheets. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is.” You sat up, the sheets slipping from your body. “You don’t love her, Mingi. And I don’t know if you ever really did.”

Mingi didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

Because deep down, he knew you were right.

Leeyeon noticed the shift.

The late nights. The distant stares. The way Mingi held her but never really touched her anymore.

She knew.

And yet, she didn’t say a word.

Because what would she even say?

She had her own secret, after all.

Mingi woke up in cold sweats sometimes, your name slipping from his lips like a prayer.

Leeyeon heard it every time.

And every time, she lay beside him, staring at the ceiling, hand resting over the baby growing in her stomach—

The baby that wasn’t his.

And she smiled.

For weeks, Mingi kept coming back to you.

It was never enough.

He’d leave Leeyeon’s bed, slip into yours, and swear to himself that it would be the last time. But then the next night came, and so did he knocking at your door, pressing you against the wall, whispering your name like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

And every time, you let him in.

Leeyeon never said a word.

She never questioned the late nights, the excuses, the way Mingi’s body was there but his mind was always somewhere else.

With you.

It should’ve made him uneasy. Should’ve made him suspicious.

But he was too caught up in you to notice.

Too caught up in the way you tasted, the way your body melted into his, the way he could lose himself in you and pretend, for just a little while—that he wasn’t living a lie.

Until the truth finally slapped him in the face.

He hadn’t meant to check her phone.

It was instinct, really—just a glance at the screen when it lit up beside her while she was in the shower.

And that’s when he saw it.

A text from San.

“Are you keeping the baby?”

Mingi froze.

The words blurred together, his brain struggling to piece them together in a way that made sense.

Are you keeping the baby?

His stomach twisted.

His mouth went dry.

And then—

It clicked.

The hesitation.

The secrecy.

The way she never let him go to her doctor’s appointments. The way she never mentioned Y/n, never confronted him about the late nights, never asked where he’d been.

Because she didn’t care.

Because she had her own guilt weighing her down.

Because the baby—

Wasn’t his.

The next time he saw you, he wasn’t gentle.

He didn’t knock. Didn’t ask.

He just showed up at your door, grabbed you, kissed you so hard you stumbled back.

“Mingi—” you tried, but he didn’t let you finish.

“You,” he rasped, hands gripping your waist like you might disappear again. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Your breath hitched. “What happened?”

Mingi swallowed. “Leeyeon… she—” His voice broke. “The baby isn’t mine.”

Silence.

Then you exhaled. “You know.”

His eyes snapped to yours. “You knew?”

“I suspected,” you admitted softly. “But it wasn’t my place.”

Mingi closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I was so fucking stupid.”

You reached for him, and this time, he let you.

“I stayed,” he whispered, voice thick with something raw. “I stayed for a baby that isn’t even mine.”

“You wanted to do the right thing.”

He laughed, but it was hollow. “And what about now? What’s the right thing now?”

Your fingers traced his jaw, tilting his face toward yours.

“This,” you murmured. “This is the right thing.”

And this time, when he kissed you—

He didn’t feel guilty at all.

Mingi didn’t go back to Leeyeon that night.

For the first time since the engagement, he didn’t drag himself home before the sun rose, slipping into bed like nothing was wrong. This time, he stayed with you.

Held you.

Breathed you in.

And when morning came, he knew what he had to do.

Leeyeon was waiting for him when he walked through the door.

She was sitting on the couch, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes blank. The moment their gazes met, he saw it—the slight panic, the recognition. She knew.

“Who told you?” she asked quietly.

Mingi scoffed. “You just admitted it.”

Leeyeon inhaled sharply but didn’t deny it. Instead, she straightened her spine, tilting her chin up. “How long have you known?”

“Since last night,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “Saw a text from San on your phone.”

Her lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across her face. “You checked my phone?”

“Don’t.” Mingi clenched his jaw. “Don’t act like I’m the problem here.”

Leeyeon let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You’re no saint either, Mingi.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You cheated on me,” she snapped, eyes flashing. “Plenty of times. With Y/n.”

Mingi stilled.

Leeyeon scoffed. “What? You thought I didn’t know? I may not have said anything, but I knew every time you disappeared in the middle of the night. Every time you came home smelling like her.”

His throat tightened, but he didn’t look away.

“At least I only did it once,” she continued, voice sharp now, slicing through the air like a blade. “And you want to talk about betrayal? You want to act like you’re the victim? Like what I did was so much worse than what you’ve been doing this whole time?”

Mingi took a step forward, fists clenched. “You lied about the baby.”

“You would’ve left if I told you the truth.”

“Of course, I would’ve left!” he shouted, voice cracking. “Because it’s not my fucking kid, Leeyeon! You were going to let me raise San’s child and never tell me.”

Leeyeon’s jaw tightened.

He laughed bitterly. “So don’t stand there and act like we’re the same. I may have cheated, but at least I wasn’t planning to build a whole damn life on a lie.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Then, Leeyeon sighed, rubbing her temples. “So what now?”

Mingi stared at her, heart pounding.

“I’m done,” he said, voice steady. “We’re done.”

Leeyeon swallowed.

Mingi exhaled, stepping back. “And this time, I’m not coming back.”

He turned on his heel and walked out the door.

Straight to you.

Mingi didn’t look back.

Not at the life he was leaving behind. Not at the woman who had lied to him. Not at the baby that was never his.

His hands were shaking as he gripped the steering wheel, his mind a blur of anger, betrayal, and something else—something almost like relief.

Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t forcing himself to stay.

He was choosing to leave.

And he was choosing you.

You opened the door before he could even knock.

Mingi didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around you, and buried his face in your neck, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You didn’t ask what happened.

Didn’t say a word.

You just held him.

And that was all he needed.

For the first time in weeks, Mingi stayed the night without guilt clawing at his chest.

There was no sneaking out. No lying. No pretending.

Just you, tangled in the sheets with him, your fingers tracing lazy circles against his bare chest as he stared up at the ceiling.

“She admitted it,” he murmured.

You hummed softly. “She didn’t try to deny it?”

“No.” He sighed. “She threw it in my face. Said I had no right to be angry because I cheated on her too.”

Your fingers stilled.

Mingi turned his head, meeting your gaze. “She’s not wrong,” he admitted. “I did cheat. A lot. With you.”

You swallowed. “But it’s not the same.”

He nodded slowly. “No. It’s not.”

Because he never loved Leeyeon.

Not the way he loved you.

Not the way he always had.

And maybe that didn’t excuse what he did. Maybe it didn’t make him a better person.

But it was the truth.

And that was all he had now.

It should have been over.

Mingi had left her. He had chosen you.

But some things never ended cleanly.

Because Leeyeon wasn’t done yet.

Mingi should’ve known it wouldn’t end that easily.

He had walked away, slammed the door shut on the life he didn’t want. He had chosen you.

But some things don’t just stay buried.

Some things crawl back to the surface, uglier than before.

And Leeyeon wasn’t about to let him go without a fight.

It started with the phone calls.

Mingi ignored them at first, let them go to voicemail.

Then came the texts.

Leeyeon: We need to talk.

Leeyeon: Mingi, answer me.

Leeyeon: You think you can just walk away from this?

Leeyeon: Fine. You don’t want to talk to me? Let’s see if you ignore this.

The next message wasn’t from Leeyeon.

It was from San.

San: You and I need to talk. Now.

Mingi stared at the screen, his blood turning ice cold.

San.

His best friend.

The man who had been sleeping with his fiancée behind his back.

And now, after weeks of silence, San was the one reaching out?

Mingi let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head.

No.

If San wanted to talk, he could come find him himself.

But San wasn’t the one who showed up first.

It was Leeyeon.

She pounded on your apartment door, loud enough to make you jolt in surprise.

Mingi was already out of bed, throwing on a shirt when you grabbed his arm. “Mingi, don’t—”

“I have to,” he muttered, jaw clenched.

You swallowed hard but let him go.

The second he opened the door, Leeyeon shoved past him, her face twisted in fury.

“You really thought you could just walk away?” she snapped, spinning to face him.

Mingi crossed his arms. “I did.”

Leeyeon let out a humorless laugh. “Wow. No apology? No guilt? Just moving on with her?” She shot a glare in your direction.

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You cheated first.”

Leeyeon’s eyes narrowed. “And you think that makes you innocent? You knew he was engaged, and you still spread your legs every time he came running.”

Mingi’s body went rigid. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Leeyeon scoffed. “Oh, please. I’m supposed to be the villain here, right? Because I cheated. Because I lied. But you—” she jabbed a finger at Mingi’s chest, her voice shaking now “—you were never mine to begin with, were you?”

Mingi exhaled sharply. “Leeyeon—”

“You think I didn’t notice?” she cut him off. “You were in love with her the whole time. You were sleeping next to me, but you were dreaming about her.”

He didn’t answer.

Because she was right.

Leeyeon shook her head, laughing bitterly. “So tell me, Mingi. Was I just a placeholder? A convenience?”

Mingi met her gaze, unflinching. “You were a mistake.”

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, she looked like she might cry.

But then her face hardened.

And that’s when she dropped the bomb.

“You want to know who’s really the mistake?” she said quietly, tilting her head. “San.”

Mingi frowned. “What?”

Leeyeon smirked. “He was the mistake. Sleeping with him? Getting pregnant with his baby?” She let out a dramatic sigh. “Oops.”

Your eyes widened. “You knew? You knew this whole time that the baby wasn’t his?”

Leeyeon’s lips curled. “Of course I knew.” She glanced at Mingi. “And yet, you stayed. Like a good little fool.”

Mingi felt something snap inside him.

His fists clenched. His breath came hard and fast.

And then, before he could stop himself, he laughed.

Laughed.

Leeyeon’s smirk faltered.

“You really think you win, don’t you?” Mingi stepped closer, his voice eerily calm. “You really think you have the upper hand here?”

Leeyeon blinked, momentarily thrown off.

Mingi shook his head, a smirk of his own tugging at his lips. “Let me tell you something, Leeyeon. You lost the second you thought you could play me.”

She scoffed. “And what? You’re gonna run off with her now?” She nodded toward you.

Mingi didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Leeyeon’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

For the first time, she was speechless.

Mingi leaned in, lowering his voice. “Enjoy your life with San. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled when he finds out the baby is his.”

Leeyeon inhaled sharply. “You wouldn’t—”

“Oh, I will.”

And with that, he grabbed your hand—

And slammed the door in her face.

But this wasn’t over.

Because Leeyeon wasn’t the only one with unfinished business.

San was still out there.

And he was coming.

Mingi barely had time to breathe before his phone vibrated again.

Another text.

San: I’m outside. We need to talk. Now.

Mingi stared at the screen, jaw clenching.

Leeyeon hadn’t wasted any time. She’d probably run straight to him the second she left, spinning the story however she wanted.

He turned to you, still gripping your hand. “Stay inside.”

You frowned. “Mingi—”

“I mean it.” His voice was firm. “I’ll handle this.”

You hesitated, but the look in his eyes made you nod.

Mingi exhaled, then turned and stepped outside.

San was leaning against his car, arms crossed, eyes dark.

“So,” he started, voice eerily calm. “You finally know.”

Mingi scoffed. “You don’t seem too surprised.”

San smirked. “I knew it was only a matter of time. Leeyeon’s not as smart as she thinks.”

Mingi’s fists clenched. “How long?”

San raised a brow. “How long what?”

“How long have you been fucking my fiancée?” Mingi’s voice rose, barely restrained.

San didn’t even flinch. “Does it matter?”

Mingi took a step forward, his entire body tensed like a predator ready to strike. “It matters to me.”

San tilted his head. “Then let’s say… long enough.”

Mingi’s vision blurred with rage.

“You really thought you could get away with this?” he growled. “That I’d never find out?”

San sighed dramatically. “Mingi, come on. Don’t act like some heartbroken victim. We both know you were never really faithful.” He gestured vaguely. “You had her the whole time.”

Mingi’s chest tightened.

“That’s different,” he bit out.

San let out a low chuckle. “Is it?”

Mingi didn’t respond. He just took another step closer.

San’s smirk widened. “Are you gonna hit me, Mingi? Go ahead. Might make you feel better.”

Mingi was so close to snapping.

So close to breaking San’s stupid, smug face—

Then San leaned in and whispered, “What’s really funny is, I don’t even want her.”

Mingi stilled. “What?”

San sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Leeyeon. She was just convenient. But honestly?” He let out a short laugh. “I’m already over it.”

Mingi’s stomach twisted.

“You ruined my relationship,” he said slowly, voice low and dangerous.

San smirked. “Did I? Or did you do that all by yourself?”

That was it.

Mingi swung.

His fist connected with San’s jaw, sending him stumbling back.

San recovered quickly, wiping his mouth, then laughed. “There it is.”

Mingi wasn’t done. He grabbed San by the collar, slamming him against his car.

San winced but didn’t resist. “Feel better?”

Mingi’s breathing was ragged. His pulse pounded in his ears.

But he didn’t hit him again.

Because San wasn’t worth it.

He let go, shoving him back.

San straightened, rolling his neck. “So what now?”

Mingi’s eyes darkened. “Now, you tell Leeyeon the truth.”

San raised a brow. “And if I don’t?”

Mingi smirked coldly. “Then I will.”

San studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Fine.”

Mingi turned to leave.

But San’s voice stopped him.

“Hey, Mingi.”

He paused.

San smirked. “Say hi to Y/n for me.”

Mingi didn’t look back.

But next time?

San wouldn’t be walking away so easily.

Mingi clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take a deep breath. His hands were still shaking, adrenaline thrumming through his veins.

San was lucky. Lucky that Mingi had enough restraint to not break his face completely.

But this wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

He turned, striding back toward the apartment, but the moment he stepped inside, he found you standing in the hallway, arms crossed, worry evident in your eyes.

“What happened?” you asked softly.

Mingi exhaled sharply. “San’s a dead man walkin.”

You swallowed, stepping closer. “Did he—?”

“He admitted everything,” Mingi cut in, voice laced with frustration. “Didn’t even try to deny it. And Leeyeon—” He let out a bitter laugh. “She’s still trying to act like she can fix this.”

You hesitated, searching his face. “And you? What are you going to do?”

Mingi ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. He had spent weeks trying to figure out why Leeyeon had been acting so strangely, why she had barely let him be involved with the pregnancy. And now, it all made sense.

It wasn’t his child.

It never was.

“I’m done,” he finally said, his voice steadier than he expected. “With her. With this whole mess.”

You inhaled softly, as if bracing yourself for what was coming next. “So… what now?”

Mingi didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for you, fingers gently trailing along your wrist before grasping your hand fully.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, squeezing lightly. “But the only thing I’m sure about is you.”

Your breath hitched, and for the first time in a long time, a small, genuine smile pulled at Mingi’s lips.

Mingi let out a small laugh. “At least now, we can finally move forward.”

You tilted your head. “Are you sure?”

Mingi smirked, stepping closer until your bodies were just inches apart.

“Positive.”

And this time, when he leaned in, nothing stopped him.

272 notes · View notes

bearxgyeomie · 4 days ago

Text

The Moonlit Vow | j.yh

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note : hey guys !! so I was thinking about this story for a long time, so enjoy !! and don't mind me writing so much, yunho fics. I'm too obsessed with him these days TvT

genre : romance, fantasy, royalty au

pairing : prince yunho x princess f!reader

word count : 2.9k+ synopsis : In the kingdom of Valtoria, Princess Y/N has always known that duty comes before love. Betrothed to a prince she does not love, she finds herself drawn to his younger brother, Prince Yunho, whose kindness and warmth awaken emotions she never thought possible. Their love, hidden in stolen moments and whispered promises, is tested by the expectations of the court and the weight of tradition. As their forbidden love threatens to unravel, fate intervenes, unravelling a conspiracy that changes the course of history. With the kingdom on their side, Y/N and Yunho are finally free to wed, sealing their love not as a secret but as a promise to their people. Years later, as they rule side by side with their children, their love becomes a legend—one that proves that even in a world of duty and sacrifice, love will always triumph.

The kingdom of Valtoria was a land of grandeur, its castles kissed by the sun and its rivers whispering secrets of ancient love. Yet, within its gilded halls, a love story unfolded—one that defied duty, challenged destiny, and was written in the stars long before the lovers even met.

Princess Y/N had spent her life preparing for duty. Every lesson, every whispered word from her tutors, had sculpted her into the perfect queen—the kind who put her people before herself, who followed tradition without question. She had been raised to understand that love was a luxury, not a necessity.

But no lesson had prepared her for Prince Yunho.

He arrived at the Valtorian palace in the bloom of spring, his presence commanding yet effortlessly warm. Unlike the stiff, formal nobles she had grown accustomed to, Yunho carried himself with ease. He was charming, yes, but not in the practiced way of court politicians. His kindness was not a tool but a truth.

Their first meeting was nothing remarkable—just a fleeting exchange in the castle gardens, a courteous greeting. Yet, the way he looked at her, as if he had already read every page of her heart, left her breathless.

And then, there was his voice, rich and smooth like honeyed wine. “It is an honor to finally meet the princess whose name carries the weight of legend.”

She had laughed, surprised by his playfulness. “I hope the legend is not too disappointing in person.”

His gaze held hers, deep and unwavering. “Quite the opposite.”

What began as polite conversations soon turned into something far more dangerous. They met in secret corners of the palace, beneath the grand chandeliers of royal banquets, where stolen glances spoke louder than words. They exchanged letters, hidden in books and carried by trusted hands, each word laced with longing.

Yunho was different from any man she had ever known. He did not view her as a pawn to be played in the great game of politics. To him, she was not just a princess, but a person—with dreams, desires, and fears.

One evening, as they stood in the palace’s moonlit courtyard, Yunho took her hand. “Tell me something true,” he whispered.

She hesitated. Truth was dangerous in their world.

But under his gaze, she felt safe. “I wish I were not a princess.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “And I wish I had met you in another life—one where we were free to love without consequence.”

But love, no matter how powerful, could not erase duty. Y/N was betrothed to another—a man chosen not for love, but for alliance. The engagement was meant to unite Valtoria and Rhenmere, ensuring peace between the two great kingdoms.

Yunho, though a prince, was not her intended. His elder brother was. And in their world, love did not overrule duty.

As the wedding day drew closer, the weight of expectation pressed down on her, suffocating. At night, she lay awake, haunted by the knowledge that she would soon stand at the altar with a man she did not love, while the one who held her heart would be forced to watch in silence.

One evening, in the hidden solace of the castle library, Yunho found her sitting by the window, lost in thought.

“I cannot bear this,” she confessed, tears threatening to spill. “Every step I take leads me further from you.”

He knelt before her, taking her hands in his. “Then let us find another path.”

“But how?” she whispered. “My fate is already written.”

He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against her fingers. “Then let us rewrite it.”

Their love was not destined to remain a secret forever. Whispers of their stolen moments reached the ears of the court, and soon, the king himself summoned Yunho.

“I have been patient with your indiscretions,” the king warned. “But love is not a privilege princes can afford. Your duty is to your family, to your kingdom.”

Yunho’s jaw tightened. “And what of her duty to herself? What of her heart?”

The king’s eyes were cold. “A queen does not follow her heart. She follows her duty.”

That night, Y/N and Yunho met in the royal gardens, knowing their time was slipping away. The stars above seemed to weep with them, their silver light casting long shadows across the marble pathways.

“I cannot ask you to fight for something that will only bring you pain,” she whispered, her fingers trailing over his cheek. “I love you too much to see you suffer.”

His hands cupped her face, his touch desperate, reverent. “Then let me suffer. If it means loving you, I would endure every pain, every consequence.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into his embrace. “If only love were enough.”

He kissed her then, slow and deep, as if trying to etch the memory into his very soul. A promise. A vow. No matter what the world demanded of them, their love would remain.

The wedding day arrived, but fate had other plans. A political scandal rocked the royal court—Y/N’s betrothed was caught in a conspiracy against the throne, his betrayal laid bare before the kingdom. The engagement was annulled, the alliance shattered.

And through the storm, Yunho remained by her side.

As the dust settled, the royal council convened. With no heir to marry, a new union was proposed—one that would strengthen the kingdom and honor the people’s wishes.

One that would finally bring Y/N and Yunho together.

The grand halls of the palace were adorned with gold and ivory, the scent of fresh roses filling the air as the kingdom gathered to witness their beloved princess wed the man she had fought so hard to love. As Y/N walked down the aisle, her gown shimmering like stardust, she locked eyes with Yunho, whose smile was brighter than the sun itself.

When he took her hands in his, there was no hesitation, no fear—only love, pure and unwavering. “With this vow,” Yunho said, his voice steady, “I promise to love you in this life and the next, until the stars themselves fade from the sky.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes as she whispered, “And I vow to stand beside you, as your queen, your partner, and the keeper of your heart.”

As they sealed their promises with a kiss, the kingdom erupted into cheers, celebrating the love that had defied all odds.

The years passed, and their love only grew stronger. In the quiet moments, away from the eyes of the court, they found solace in each other’s arms. Their kingdom thrived under their rule, their bond an unshakable force.

And then, one evening, as the sun set over the palace gardens, Y/N watched as Yunho knelt before their twin children, laughter spilling from their lips as he crowned them with flower tiaras.

She smiled, her heart full.

“You’ve given me everything,” she whispered.

Yunho turned to her, his expression soft. “No, my love. You were my everything, long before the world allowed us to be.”

And as their children ran toward them, their laughter filling the air, Y/N knew—love had truly conquered all.

For theirs was a love that would echo through history, whispered in the winds, sung by the stars, and cherished for all eternity.

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bearxgyeomie · 4 days ago

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Yunho fic recs

────୨ৎ────

✴ : smut

ᯓᡣ𐭩 : absolute favourites

[Last updated: 07.04.2025] ⋆˙⟡ If any links don't work anymore please let me know I'll get it fixed as soon as possible ^^

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Series ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Across Stardust - @honeyhotteoks ✴ | soulmate au, idol!yunho x makeup artist!reader (ONGOING)

you and yunho have worked together for years, idol and makeup artist, but until today you’ve never touched him skin to skin. when the world tilts on its head from just a brush of his cheek, you realize he’s so much more than a crush, he’s your soulmate.

Summer nights | Summer's End - @honeyhotteoks ✴ | roommates au (COMPLETED)

he's your best friend and roommate, but during the heat of summer and the confinement of quarantine, you just can't seem to help yourselves.

Guard Dog | part 2 - @beenbaanbuun | hybrid au, hybrid!yunho

Ok, Cowboy - @everyonewooeverywhere (✴) | strangers to lovers au, cowboy mechanic!yunho (ONGOING)

when you come into his shop to get your boyfriend's car fixed, yunho can help but wonder what a hardworking, pretty girl like you is doing with someone so...pathetic. and maybe, just maybe, he feels like he could treat you better.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Guerilla | bonus - @sorryimananti-romantic ✴ | serial killer doctor!yunho x crime fiction writer!reader (COMPLETED)

you're a crime fiction writer and you move in with dr. jeong yunho despite his strange, strict house rules. he's very private and you don't mind that, but he's also very cold and unapproachable and you're determined to crack through his walls. little did you know your obsession with gore and crime would melt his heart. Soon, you find yourself tangled in lies, secrets and a detective from your past who suspects yunho and his gang as you navigate thru your relationship with him.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Oneshots and drabbles ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sudden + (A)cute - @eoieopda | friends to lovers au

jeong yunho’s got a serious case of downbaditis — oh, and also a cold.

Stupid In Love - @koyagifs | soon to be parent!au

yunho so excited to become a father, he was determined to make your babymoon the most memorable memory for you.

Antithesis - @kitten4sannie ✴ | spiderman/venom bf!yunho

your boyfriend is going through a phase.

Sixth Sense - @pirateprincessblog | spiderman au, enemies to lovers au, spiderman!yunho x villain!reader

while all of the city loves their superhero and is ready to defend him with their lives, you seem to be the only fool looking at the bigger picture. and the only one to loathe spiderman.

Pressure Points - @jinkoh ✴ | physiotherapist!yunho

your physical therapy is getting very physical

Love Again - @xomakara ✴ | single parent au, single parent!yunho x single parent!reader

You're a lonely single mother sleeping with your coworker, Yunho, who is also a lonely single dad, for the past few months. One night, after a passionate moment, Yunho suggests that maybe it's time for your daughter and his daughter to finally meet.

P☆RNST☆R - @slutforwoo ✴ | nerd!yunho x gothcamgirl!reader

Yunho’s friends notice him overworking himself like never before. Hongjoong, being the good friend he is, recommends his favorite camgirl. In hopes he can start to destress himself. But being the workaholic he is, he decides to start tutoring for extra cash. Y/n is failing her chemistry classes again. Again. On probation with the school, she agrees to get a tutor. Well, who would’ve thought that tutor would end up being Yunho, and that during one of their study sessions he’ll recognize that back tattoo of his new favorite pastime? Guess we have to find out, don’t we?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The Drill - @byuntrash101 ✴

yunho cant seem to pick up anyone at the club. for two main reasons, two problems if you will. the first one: his rizz level is negative and the second one... well it's bigger. much, much bigger. a huge problem wooyoung has named "the drill"

Prove Her Wrong - @kp-alice ✴ | sub bf!yunho

Yunho knew that what that stranger had said to him back then wasn't true. He quite literally had physical evidence to prove it. And yet, he couldn't help but think about her comment a little too often.

Can't Get Rid Of You - @yunniverse | academic rivals to lovers au

both you and yunho are chosen to attend the same conference, staying in a local hotel, only there’s only one room, and you both seemingly hate each other

Is that me? - @evenyvn | streamer!yunho x gf!reader

in which yunho makes his in game avatar eerily similar to you and thought no one will notice.

Raw Need - @mingi-s-dimples ✴ | omegaverse au, alpha!yunho x omega!reader

your first rut washed rough over you... and even if you didn't wanna do anything about it... your man made sure he'd fuck you senseless thru your rut.

Highs And Lows - @slutteok ✴ | gamer!yunho

you and yunho always joked about getting a dog bed.

09:12 - @atinyslittleworld | protective friend!yunho

Yunho’s protective instincts surface when a persistent stalker confronts Y/N, revealing his possessive side and sparking unexpected emotions.

23:13 PM - @hwaightme | bf!yunho

to be loved is to be heard, and yunho reminds you of this again and again, knowing you beyond the literal and the expected.

Dibs - @s4nniebe4r | rival!yunho

somebody keeps stealing your favorite chair

Find You In My Heart - @anxiouscherubs ✴ | friends to lovers au

the one where you get dumped and your best friend is there to help you realize what you truly deserve… what’s been in front of you all along.

Playing In Glass Houses - @honeyhotteoks ✴

the idea was simple, buy a new toy and spice up your relationship. you didn’t expect it to be like this.

The Fall - @honeyhotteoks | idol bf!yunho x dancer!reader

during dance practice for the upcoming tour, you fall from a dangerous position, yunho reacts and gets you to the hospital.

In The Act - @honeyhotteoks ✴ | roommate!yunho

you and yunho are roommates. he never comes home early, except for the one time he does and catches you in the middle of touching yourself and moaning his name.

Darling Mine - @yuyusbabygirl ✴

You spend the night at your boyfriend's place for the first time and he really likes it when you wear his clothes

Pretty Hands - @starcrossedmusings ✴ | best friends to lovers au

You and Yunho have been friends for years, and you tell each other everything. He suddenly takes a much more vested interest in your love life when you can't stop mentioning your newest interest.

Too Sweet - @hongjoongspoetry ✴ | upcoming rockstar!yunho, opposites attract au

Two complete opposites who are quickly falling for each other, one wanting more but the other afraid of all the things that could go wrong.

Testing The Waters - @stayteezdreams | friends to lovers au

While attending a Halloween party, you learn Yunho's mystery costume was really just a plan to make his feelings for you a bit more obvious.

Tension And Desires - @xomakara ✴ | oblivious friends to lovers au

You and Yunho are friends who are oblivious to each other's feelings. Despite the playful animosity between you two, a strong sexual tension simmers beneath the surface. After a night of flirting and drinking, you finally give in to your desires…

Snuggles And Cuddles - @makeitmingi | drunk bf!yunho

Yunho has the best alcohol tolerance amongst his friends. However, after a night out, you didn't think that his best friend would bring him home, absolutely wasted. Seems like alcohol unlocks a whole new side of your boyfriend you didn't know existed

Kinktober 2024 : Breeding - @desirehorizon ✴

an innocent question to your boyfriend leaves you pumped full of his cum - what an evening!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 The Puppy With An MAcc - @kp-alice | client!yunho x dominatrix!reader

Despite officially retiring as a professional dominatrix months ago, there's one client you've decided to keep. Maybe it's because of the generous amount he pays, or maybe, just maybe, it's more than that. With the lines between the two of you continuously blurring, you can't help but return every time.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 A "First" Date - @wooyoungiewritings ✴ | best friends to lovers au

Your best friend Yunho and you always find dates for each other, trying to help each other out with love. You always try to find the best ones for each other, but one day, Yunho sets you up with his “friend”, and you quickly realize that your best friend wants to prove a point. And maybe he actually knows you better than you think - in multiple ways.

All I Want For Christmas Is You - @starrysvn | friends to lovers au, fake dating au

college christmas parties, one way or another, always offered you the clarity you needed. like when you asked your friend yunho to be your fake boyfriend for the holidays

Feeling Like I Do - @sorryimananti-romantic | best friends to lovers au

you and yunho have been best friends since forever and neighbours for a while, and you find it harder with each passing day to hide your feelings for him.

Player 9 - @pirateprincessblog ✴ | football player/coach!yunho x aunt!reader

finally reuniting with your family after years of working abroad, your six year old nephew doesn't leave your side. he wants you to take him to school, he wants to do his homework with you, he wants to sit on your lap during meals, and he wants you to watch his football practice. how convenient that you're almost always alone on that stadium, and that his coach is just the most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life.

Muse - @yunholuvrr ✴ | model!yunho x photographer!reader

Your friend Hongjoong just held a show for his new fashion line and invited you to photograph the event, but one model catches your eye more than any of the clothes on the runway.

Opposites Attract - @tainsan ✴ | college au, tutor!yunho

you are on the verge of being expelled, so your teacher helps you find a tutor, yet what you weren't expecting was much more than just tutoring sessions.

Come Fly With Me - @hwaightme | pilot!yunho x journalist!reader

Aerophobia - the fear of flying. And clearly, something that your boss has no idea exists. While you curse the universe and the metal bird, your handsome seatmate ponders if it is possible to redirect this flight, from Gwangju, to your heart.

Good Boy - @yuyusboyfriend ✴

helping your roommate with a hard problem...

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Puppyboys4you.com - @kitten4sannie ✴ | camboy!yunho

dedicating your hard earned money and free time to your favorite camboy goodboy_99 comes with a lot of perks.

Something To Give Eachother - @sungbeam | childhood best friends to lovers au

yunho might have been the superstar out of the two of you, but you have always been the center of his universe. (you — it's always been you.)

739 Yunho - @potatomountain ✴ |cnc, sexworker!yunho

with sex work legal, it was as readily available as texting *739, filling out the form sent, and either choosing your partner or letting the company choose you. Even the more controversial kinks were accommodated, and that was something you wanted.

Hide And Seek - @kitten4sannie ✴ | cnc, bf!yunho

You and Yunho play your favorite game together.

Hunted - @mulloey ✴ | cnc, internet hookup!yunho

it’s all a game, he says. you’re desperate to play.

[2:12 am] - @hwaflms | bf!yunho

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Do You Have Abs? - @vent-stink

A Special Gift - @xuchiya | bf!yunho

[1:15] - @yuyusgirlie | husband!yunho

Four In The Morning - @ateezmakemeweep ✴ | strangers to lovers au

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Arrogant CEO Yunho Who Gets Knocked Down By His Cute Little Intern - @crimsonbubble ✴ | ceo!yunho x intern!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Untitled - @seobinghard

Your Skin Is Against My Body - @323cutie ✴

The Way You Look At Me - @323cutie

Anniversaries - @x0x0josephinex0x0 | bf!yunho

Photoshoot - @atinysunbaby | idol!yunho x idol!reader

534 notes · View notes

bearxgyeomie · 4 days ago

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Lines of fate: 01 | jjk

➵ pairing: tattooist!jungkook x f. reader

➵ genre: apocalypse au, exes to lovers (?) dad!jungkook, survival, angst, smut

➵ summary: the last thing Jungkook ever imagined was an outbreak that turned the dead into the living. But even more unexpected is seeing you—an ex he’s known nothing about in the past four years—with a small child who bears a striking resemblance to himself. As Jungkook grapples with the shock and the city spirals into chaos, the two of you are thrust back together, forced to confront unresolved feelings, long-buried truths, and the horrors of the deadly virus taking over.

➵ word count: 11.9k

➵ warnings: swearing (jk says fuck way too much), graphic depictions of violence and death, blood and gore, seizures, virus and zombies ofc, brief mentions of alcohol consumption.

➵ series masterlist

➵ a/n: it’s finally here!! <3 sorry this was postponed way longer than expected, all I can say is: life :,) anyway!! posting my writing again after years on hiatus definitely feels nerve wracking lol. this idea has been in my wips for literally years so I’m so excited to finally be sharing it with you all!! I would greatly appreciate your feedback and thoughts as it is something quite different from anything I usually write (it’s definitely been a kick in the ass) it’ll also really help me stay motivated to continue writing it. thank you for all the hype and excitement you showed for this fic before it was even released cause like hello?? that’s crazy to me😭 thanks for always showing my stories love and support🫶🏻 I’ve taken inspiration from all the zombie movies and videogames I’ve ever seen and played over the years (thanks dad). I should also mention, I had a very thorough plot for this planned out and it kinda went to shit in the process of writing so we’re kind of going off vibes only and 20% of the plot I had originally planned so yeah, bare with me🤪 I also want to say, updates on this will most likely be slow, but I will try my best to get them out as fast I can for you🙏 now that that’s over, I hope you enjoy this series as much as I am enjoying writing it!! this chapter is just the very beginning <33

The autumn sun filters through the large window with an amber glow as you take a slow sip of your coffee, the warm bitterness spreading in your chest as you attempt to chase some kind of comfort. But the loud hum of the city just outside and the muffled chatter of the bustling cafe are very much a grounding reminder of where you are — and where you really wish you weren't.

Your gaze travels down to your daughter sitting on the booth beside you, her little legs swinging off the seat contentedly as she picks away at her blueberry muffin. Completely oblivious to your ongoing little inner torment. Her big eyes flicker up to meet yours, brimming with glee. Brushing a crumb off her cheek, you force a little smile for her.

Like a dull sting under your skin, you feel how little teeth of guilt gnaw away at you, not only because it’s been almost impossible to offer her a genuine smile in the past two days since you stepped foot in this dammed place, but because you simply wish you could share the same excitement as she does, and perhaps…feel more positive about this whole situation. For her.

But all you’ve been able to feel is guilt.

An incessant amount of it. Guilt and fear. Slowly brewing up inside you like some sort of poison that has had you feeling a little sick to your stomach.

”You’re spiraling again.” Hoseok pulls you out of your absentminded state, studying you over the rim of his half finished iced americano.

You blink. You often tend to forget how well he’s capable of reading you. Though you suppose that’s a skill acquired with nearly twenty years of friendship, and an unavoidable consequence of growing up constantly together, practically like siblings.

Hoseok has been the only constant in your life for as long as you can remember, like a brother to you — conjoined at the hip as his mother always used to joke. It all began when you moved next door. With your parents always working late and often times far away from home, Hoseok's home slowly became your second one — the place you spent most of your childhood and adolescence and formed some of your fondest memories. A place where you were never alone.

You do suppose it’s no surprise the years and the unbreakable bond you’ve formed have given you exceptional abilities to know when something is off with just a simple glance. But it's never less surprising.

The corners of your mouth tug upwards into a tiny smile at his words, brows pinched in a pathetic attempt to hide your truth. “I am not.”

“You are. You’re thinking too much,” he stirs the ice in his drink with the straw, eyes flicking up to meet yours again. “Which if I may remind you, is one of your fatal flaws.”

You scoff, only slightly offended as you watch him take a slow sip. Pushing your sunglasses further up your head as you lean back. “Thinking too much is not my fatal flaw.”

He’s may very likely be right about that, but of course, you’d never actually admit it.

Hoseok snorts, clearly unconvinced. His voice just above a whisper when he murmurs, “Right. Sorry. It’s definitely lying.”

Before you can argue, he leans forward to accept some crumbs of muffin Jieun is so eagerly offering him. The sight tugs at something deep in your chest, watching his expression soften to mush as he thanks her with that brightest, tender smile he only ever uses for her before he brings his attention back to you.

“If it weren’t your fatal flaw, you’d actually be enjoying that overpriced coffee and oh—, maybe being reunited with your best friend again. I haven’t even seen you in like three months.” He shakes his head in utter disappointment, sitting back with a dramatic sigh.

“Hobi, I am so thrilled to be reunited with you, truly.” You roll your eyes ever so slightly and place a hand on your heart rather sarcastically as you say it, but deep down you hope he knows you’re only half joking. No one has done for you more than what hoseok has in the time you’ve known him.

You suppose all the change has got you in a rather sentimental state. But you bury it away. Hoseok deserves a nice time out with a friend for once too. He’s seen enough of your tears.

“Yeah?” he leans in, studying you with mock concern. Though not falling for it even a bit. "That's your thrilled face? You sure about that?” You almost laugh in response, but then, he shifts, looking more serious than just seconds ago. “You know,” he pauses, crossing his arms over his chest. “For someone who finally landed a nice new job and has everything working out, you don’t look all that thrilled to me, actually. That’s all.”

You press your lips together and glance down at your coffee, suddenly the truth a little too hard to face. You should be happy. He’s right. Because things really are starting to look up for you again. Everything you’ve spent the last few months wishing for has finally become a reality. And yet, you can’t shake the fact that there’s a deep buried sense of dread that seems to be getting in the way of that, a familiar fear that's been present for years, but only intensified since you stepped foot in Seoul again.

Hoseok follows your gaze, watching you carefully, then nudges your foot under the table gently. “Come on.” He murmurs softly, eyebrows raised gently. “What is it?”

You suppose your real fatal flaw is your emotions showing up as flashy neon subtitles over your head apparently, or the fact you are simply terrible at hiding them, because Hoseok doesn't budge. He sees right through your little facade — always has. And as much as you know he is a great listener and that he genuinely cares to hear it all, always ready to give you a helping hand in any way he possibly can, you just don’t want to sound ungrateful. Not when anyone else in your position would be feeling over the moon right now.

Besides, you’ve never liked burdening him, or anyone for that matter. Never wanted to add more weight to the heavy things he already carries himself. He deals with so much of that at work already. So many problems significantly worse than your own worries. So you simply shake your head, putting on a small smile once again in hopes to appease him.

“I’m alright, Hobi. It's just…strange. Being back here. Overwhelming, I guess,” you admit, though only to half of the truth. “It’s so calm on the island. I suppose I got used to it. Everything here is just so intense. But that's all.” You cross your arms on the table as you gaze out at the busy streets. Hoping you don't sound as pathetic as you feel. Though in truth, this whole things isn't just strange. It’s all actually fucking terrifying.

In many ways it seemed like nothing here had changed since the day you left four years ago. The cityscape is as bustling as you remember – a stark contrast to the quietude and stillness of Jeju, where you had been building your new life up until now. People in suits rush back and forth and push into each other with no care, everything is always shadowed by a maze of buildings that don't seem to have an end. Cars weave through traffic like they want to crash into each other, and neon signs and billboards still flicker blindingly even in the daytime.

The fact that everything remains the same, terrifies you. The rush, the stress, the chaos. That constant hustle and bustle that seems suffocating. It wasn't the reason why you left. but it was certainly a factor that made your life here something you wanted to escape from. It feels like stepping back into the life you thought you’d left behind for good. Like stepping onto a moving treadmill, when you no longer know how to run. Not sure if you’ll ever find your place here again.

Hobi hums in understanding, and the warmth in the familiarity of his smile helps lessen the knot that's been forming in your stomach all morning. And though you've only let out a tiny portion of what's on your mind, you already feel like you can breathe with more ease.

Sometimes, it’s not so bad that he can see right through you. Because you also tend to forget he’s the only one that truly gets you, understands you when even you struggle to understand yourself, and has never once been one to judge you, no matter how small or ridiculous it may be.

“Yeah, I get it. It can be overwhelming.” He nods slowly, letting the words settle. “But if I were you, I’d be damn proud of myself.” His expression is calm and his words full of sincerity as he speaks. “You did what you had to do, and now you’re doing it again. Making more big changes. Really tough decisions, and I know that’s not easy.” He pauses. “But you've always made it after all. This time won't be different. Besides, think about this, we’re close to each other now. I’ll be here for anything you guys need, you know that.”

Your heart softens at his comforting words, and the reassurance feels like it melts some of the tension off your shoulders. And for just a split second you feel that roar of confidence, thinking about everything you've accomplished, but it's not lasting, and deflates with the weight of your heavier thoughts.

You want to believe what he says — you really do. For your daughter's sake. Because this is finally your chance to start over and build something better. To give Jieun the life she deserves, something stable, a chance to thrive in a place full of new opportunities.

A fresh start.

After all, isn't that all you've ever been chasing?

You don’t want to allow your fears and the past to come in the way of that. But it's never so simple. At least, definitely not here — definitely not for you.

Because the truth is, being in Seoul again feels like roaming a haunted city. Tainted and plagued by shadows from the past, by who you used to be, and everything and everyone you left behind all those years ago when you ran and didn’t dare to look back. Being here now, you can’t shake the feeling — the apprehension and fear that everything you once left behind is lurking around the corner, ready to jump out and haunt you, making everything you've finally built up crumble to pieces once again. This place just gives you an indescribable feeling of…dread. Eeriness even. Enough for it to linger gut deep with a painful sense of discomfort that hasn’t eased since the day you arrived. As if you can never truly let your guard down.

But after all, it was an opportunity you couldn’t pass up, even if it meant returning to the city you swore you’d never step foot in again. The offer came at just the right moment, a lifeline after months of uncertainty and dead-ends. After losing your job, and endless nights crying yourself to sleep with the heavy burden of becoming a failure of a mother and not knowing how to make ends meet. You practically cried with joy the morning you finally got the call, and ignored the pit that formed in your stomach when you heard where it required you to move to. It had felt like you were about to reach the peak of a mountain, only to drop all the way back down to the bottom. But it was a steady paycheck, and a chance to finally give Jieun some stability. It wasn’t glamorous or grand — a position in a small marketing firm. But it was enough to rebuild. The breakthrough you so badly needed to start over and secure a future for your little girl.

How could you possibly turn it down?

That was your biggest and only goal in life.

There was nothing you wouldn’t do for her. So you knew in that very instant you had to take it. Even if it meant returning to the place that broke you beyond repair. So you packed up your life and now, here you are. Back where you never thought you’d be. So far from the tranquility of the home you had made for yourself in a secluded tiny seaside town four years ago. Where you were happy. Where you didn't live in constant fear.

“I know this is what I need right now,” you speak softly, more to yourself than anything. You reach out, gently brushing your fingers through Jieun's baby soft hair, watching as she focuses intently on her muffin, completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. “I just don’t want to mess anything up…the job, you know, our new life here. I want to get this right. I don’t want anything, getting in the way of that.” You swallow thickly, fingers tightening around the mug of coffee in front of you, and Hoseok knows exactly what you mean by that. You hesitate, letting out a quiet breath before speaking again. “I know there's so many opportunities for us here but…I was happy in Jeju. Jieun was happy.”

Hoseok nods, slow and understanding. “I know you were. A city like this takes some adapting to, you know that.” He reaches out and gives your arm a gentle squeeze, “but give it time. You’ll settle right back in.” He says warmly, reassuring. You return a tiny smile, more genuine this time.

“Seriously though. Change is good. New home, new job, meeting new people…maybe even someone special…” he adds.

You scoff, eyes widening, only half incredulous at how fast he swerved the topic there. So typical of him.

“Yeah no, thanks. You can stop it right there.” You shake your head.

“What?” Hobi leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he waggles his eyebrows, a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, completely unbothered despite your clear opposition. “I'm just saying,” he adds in, raising his hands in mock innocence, though he feels like your glare could actually kill him. “You’re young. You’re no longer in that tiny ass town full of old drunk married cheating men. Everyone deserves a little fun. It wouldn't kill you to-”

“Hobi,” you sigh, cringing internally at the memories of disastrous dates you told him all about over the phone. You throw a pointed look in his direction, but Hoseok just chuckles. “I’m done with all that. Seriously.”

“Come on,” he presses.

“No. No way. I told you.” You interject, tone firm, not even allowing space for the idea. “I’m a single mother, Hobi. That’s been off the cards for years. I have different priorities now.” You straighten in your seat, making a point to scoop Jieun's hair back and out of her drink. These are your priorities now.

Hoseok raises a brow, watching you carefully, but there's no judgment in his expression now — just silent understanding. He leans back in his chair again, smile dying down, tapping his fingers absently against his iced americano before his gaze drifts over to your little girl. His expression softens, fondness flowing in his eyes.

“I know,” he says after a moment, his tone a tad more gentle. “But I’m just saying…you’re allowed to let yourself be happy again, you know. You deserve that.”

Something uncomfortable twists in your insides. Happy. What a simple word, but what a complex thing.

You lift your eyes to meet his, the sincerity in his gaze cutting right through. You could argue, explain that you don't agree, that romance is a door locked for good. Not only out of fear, but out of necessity. It’s no longer just about you. You don’t have the luxury of reckless choices or fleeting little flings like you did before.

There's simply to much buried history to let anyone new into your life.

And deep down, you don't believe you deserve it. But you don’t voice any of that. There's no need to explain. Hoseok knows your history better than anyone, the pain etched deep into you, the one you carry like a scar beneath your skin. He knows Jieun's father plays a big role in that, even though you don’t dare to mention him and haven’t in years. He knows his existence and every memory he’s involved in is something you merely refuse to acknowledge. And though Hoseok wants nothing more than for you to thrive, he knows better than to press on the matter.

Still, he hesitates before speaking quietly. “I’ve been here four years, and I’ve never seen him again.”

He says it gently, in hopes the information is comforting to you, to maybe put you at ease, but instead it feels like a small jab between your ribs. You stiffen, for just a second. You feel your heart begin to race a tiny bit faster. And you wonder when the mention of him will stop having this goddamn effect on you.

Hoseok notices, and regret quickly flickers across his face. He realizes he might have overstepped, treading on thin ice that he fears may slowly be cracking beneath him.

But it doesn't. You take a deep breath, and you simply nod. It’s okay. You know you can’t avoid it forever. Besides, who’s to say he even still lives here? The thought should be reassuring, bring you some sort of peace, be relieving. But it isn’t. Because the thought of ever seeing him again makes your palms sweat, and your chest a little tight.

“Yeah.” You say quietly. “You’re right. Who knows.”

You don't mention how many late nights you've stayed up, haunted with thoughts like if ever did make it out of here. If he ever made to the states and accomplished all those things he wanted. If he's perhaps settled down and started a family or if he's stuck right where he used to be, how he used to be. You don't mention how sometimes, you mind even attacks you with the thought of if he’s even still alive.

You don't dare mention any of it.

Hoseok exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I just-” He pauses, voice lowering as he checks Jieun to make sure she's not listening, not that she would know or understand, but you appreciate that he does. “I know we’re not meant to talk about him–“

You push past it, giving a small dismissive shake of the head. Instead, you plaster on a small practiced smile, turning to glance down at the little girl beside you as well. It isn't something easy to avoid. But for the past four years, somehow, you’ve managed it.

“Anyway. I am happy,” you say, voice softer now, steering the conversation elsewhere. “I get all the love I need from my little lovebug right here, don’t I?”

The little lovebug in question remains completely unaware of the heaviness of the conversation. Instead, her wide eyes are fixated on something outside, her eyes big and small fingers suddenly clutching your sleeve.

“Mommy, look!” She gasps, tugging desperately for your attention, she calls you again, tearing you away from your conversation. “The birdy!”

You follow her gaze, a small black bird just on the other side of the glass, and the simplicity of her joy softens you, eases the heaviness for a second. It really doesn't take much to amuse a child, and you’re glad to see at least someone enjoying her time here so far. “I see, baby.”

You smile with her, that is until, just a moment later, you notice… the small bird is no longer pecking at crumbs on the pavement. It’s… acting rather strangely. Its head twitches sharply to the side, body jerking with twitchy erratic movements as it flaps it’s wings like crazy, then suddenly, it freezes, before twitchting again.

Your brows furrow, unable to take your eyes off it. What the hell? Something about it sends a strange chill through you, suddenly understanding what had Jieun so surprised.

“Oh, I think that poor bird might have gone a little coo coo.” Hoseok turns his head to take a look himself, and you both exchange a puzzled glance, to which Hobi just shrugs with a mildly disgusted expression.

“What, you know I hate birds.” he whispers, shrugging like someone just walked over his grave, and you swat his arm and shush him, suppressing a laugh. You wouldn't want your sweet animal loving daughter hearing that.

“Isn't that so weird. I’ve never seen one do that before.” You say, and hoseok tilts his head, staring at it with a mildly grossed out frown. “Probably has some kind of parasite or something. Not sure.”

“It’s gonna die?” she looks up at hobi, her little face full of worry. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her in closer.

“Not necessarily, bub. I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Hobi answers, trying to be tactful, however, Jieun doesn’t look convinced, but she nods sadly and resumes eating spoonfuls of her hot chocolate that's long gone cold.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine baby.” You kiss the top of her head, as you glance out the window once again, only to see it’s no longer there.

“So odd.” You shake your head, taking another sip of your coffee, and Hoseok nods and lets out a low hum, taking another sip himself.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day? Are you actually gonna start unpacking, or are you going to let those suitcases rot in your living room for another week?” He taunts.

You chuckle. “I’ll unpack eventually. This little girl and I have a long list of errands left to do today.”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you an unconvinced look, then looks at Jieun with a dramatic pout, cooing. “My poor little monkey. Prisoner to moms to do list. I remember that feeling.”

She giggles, and you speak up. “Shhh, she loves errands with mommy, don't you-”

Suddenly, a loud crash sound from the back of the café, startling you all.

The sharp clatter of metal rings out and you hear a young worker gasp, emerging hastily from behind the counter as the previous muffle of conversation begins to die down. Heads immediately start turning towards the scene unfolding before them.

“What the hell?” you murmur as you hastily turn around yourself, pulse spiked from the jump.

Near the back of the cafe, a chair is knocked to the ground, a mans body hunched over on the floor, shaking and convulsing with an unnatural force that seems to take over him completely. The man sitting beside him instantly scrambles to the floor next to him, shaking his shoulders in a failed attempt to break him out of whatever is happening as he calls out for help in a trembling voice, panicked.

“Oh my god, Hobi-” You gasp and your stomach twists as you take in what is occurring, grip instinctively tightening around your daughter's hand, turning her away from the scene. One of the members of staff pulls out her phone, announcing that she will call an ambulance right away, the man on the floor now surrounded by two other workers that instantly made their way over to him.

Hoseok takes just a few seconds to register what’s going on. “Shit.” He mutters, “A seizure.”

Instantly, he’s up on his feet, leaving you and Jieun behind and rushes over to help, but before he can reach the man on the floor, a young worker steps in front of him, his hands raised.

“An ambulance is on the way!” he blurts out, eyes darting between the unconscious man and the crowd gathering around him, Hoseok noticing his eyes full of panic. “Please, just give him space.”

“It's alright. I’m a nurse,” Hoseok urges, trying to step around him. “Please, let me-”

This time, there’s no resistance — only relief in the young man's panicked eyes as he steps aside, allowing Hoseok through to where the man is convulsing on the floor.

Jesus christ. On his one day off. He thinks internally.

Without hesitation, Hoseok drops to one knee. “Don’t hold him down,” he instructs the mans friend beside him as he proceeds to unbutton the first few buttons of the man's shirt to facilitate his breathing. He presses his fingers to his wrist as best as he can, taking a pulse. He attempts to roll him on his side, but he seizes with too much force, limbs jerking far too erratically for him to do so.

“Has he ever had seizures before? Is he epileptic?” Hoseok asks without tearing his eyes away from the man.

The man's friend just shakes his head. “No…no- he was fine right before.”

“Ambulance is just two minutes away,” the barista yells, phone still pressed to her ear. Hoseok nods but keeps his focus on the young man. Face contorted in concertation as he's checking his pulse once again before tilting his head to ensure he’s breathing properly.

You sit speechless few tables away, watching the scene unfold, your heart erratic in your chest. But feeling so much relief Hoseok was here. Jieun's small hand holds yours tightly, grip strong. She shifts in her seat, trying to peek over the booth to the commotion, but you gently pull her in beside you. Pulling her close, you brush a soothing hand over her hair.

“It’s okay, baby,” your whisper. “That man wasn’t feeling very well. But uncle hobi is helping him. Isn’t that so good? He’s really good at helping people remember. It's okay.”

Jien nods slowly, though her brows are still drawn together in concern. She doesn’t fully understand, but she doesn’t doubt your word, or her uncle's abilities.

Across the large space, Hoseok presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes watching carefully as the man's convulsions finally begin to slow, the violent jerking finally seeming to ease up. But just as the worst seems to have passed…Hoseok stiffens.

There’s a concerning, deep purplish hue creeping up the man’s neckline, peeking through the gap of his unbuttoned white shirt. Dark veins snaking against his pale skin, spreading like ink through thin cracks. Hoseok swallows hard, alarm bells ringing at the back of his mind.

That…that doesn’t look right. His medical knowledge kicks in, a thousand possibilities racing through his mind, digging for the most fitting answer. Is it cyanosis? an undiagnosed vascular disease? Possibly an infected wound? blunt trauma?

His mind dashing for answers in an instant, but before he can take a better look and unbutton his shirt completely, after what feels like a lifetime, the piercing wail of sirens cuts right through his thoughts, and just moments after, paramedics burst into the café, pushing past the gathered crowd near the Hoseok and the patient on the floor. Hoseok quickly regains focus, stepping back to allow them to take over.

“He had a seizure. Approximately a minute long. His breathing is stable but—“ He hesitates for a second, then presses on, giving them a brief diagnosis and rundown. “I think he may have another underlying condition. Possible hypoxia.”

The paramedic beside him nods, wasting no time as they swiftly load him onto a stretcher. He stands back, his jaw tight, fingertips tingling with the urge to do more, watching as they wheel him out through the entrance. The murmurs of the coffee shop begin to start up again, confused and concerned looks turning left and right, but Hoseok can’t shake all the questions in his mind.

He just hopes the guy turns out to be okay. The same way it goes with every patient he sees. You have to do your part and let go. That's how it works. but this time, he's left with a weird feeling bubbling inside.

After a few minutes, Hoseok turns back to your table. The moment his eyes meet yours, you’re already standing and asking, ��God, is everything okay? He’s okay, right?”

“It’s alright,” Hoseok reassures you, though his tone is softer than usual. “They've got it under control.”

His gaze flickers toward Jieun, who’s still clinging to you, her small face twisted in worry as she glances between the two of you. She tugs your sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mommy…what happened to the man?”

“The ambulance people will take care of him and take him to the hospital so they can help him.” You say gently. She blinks up at you, then glances toward Hoseok, as if waiting for confirmation.

Hoseok lips form a small smile, crouching slightly to be at her eye level. “Your mom is right,” he says carefully, patting her head. “Sometimes when people don’t feel well they need a little help. That’s what doctors and nurses are for Jieun. It’s okay.”

Jieun watches him for a moment, and gives him a slow understanding nod. He then straightens and exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking back toward the road in front of the entrance where the ambulance is now setting off.

You nod, now feeling a weight of unease in the crowded space. It would probably be best to give them space to handle the situation, and to get some fresh air after that. So you retrieve Jieun's little pink puffer vest from off hobis chair and gently help her arms into, zipping it up snuggly to keep her warm from the afternoon chill, before taking her hand in yours.

As the three of you finally step outside, you're grateful for the crisp autumn air that lifts some of the heaviness off you. God, that was stressful. The distant sounds of the city hum around you, and life moves as if nothing happened.

“God, I hope that guy is okay.” You say quietly only for Hoseok to hear, taking your daughter's hand as you let out a slow breath. “First that weird bird and then that poor guy.”

Hoseok hums in agreement and gives a small reassuring nod, pushing his concerns aside. But you know how hard it is for him to switch off. How even when the emergency is over, his mind replays it again and again, analysing— wondering if he could have done more, if he could’ve done better. Even when he deals with stuff like this everyday, it’s never been easy.

“Jesus Christ. What's that saying, bad things always come in two’s? Three’s? ” He chuckles, letting out a huff. “I told you, there’s never an uneventful day out here.” Hobi shakes his head, forcing a smile to lift the mood. But his body still buzzes with tension. Then, in one swift movement, he scoops Jieun up, swinging her into his arms. “Now, time for ice cream?”

Jieun giggles loudly, kicking her feet excitedly at his words, all her earlier worries forgotten. “Yes!”

“Hobi, she just had a hot chocolate. Do you even have space for ice cream, Jieun?” You say, trying to sound stern, but the sight of them giggling together pulls a real smile out of you. And something inside already tells you you’re going to give in.

“She’s with uncle hobi now, there’s no rules.” He sing songs, walking ahead of you with your daughter in arms, all smiles as she squeals at his gentle tickling. The spitting image of joy if you ever saw it.

And for just a moment, you try to push away the nagging feeling that’s been pressing at the back of your mind.

Because maybe, just maybe, this time, everything will be just fine after all.

Jungkook steadies his hand, a quiet hiss of pain getting lost in the low thrumming of the tattoo gun that fills the quiet studio, lulling him into that comforting sense of calm he knows so well. It’s a fairly big piece, he’s been here hunched over for hours now, that familiar dull ache creeping up his back, but he barely registers it. Because all that matters is the art taking form beneath his touch.

Here, in these moments, it's when the feels most himself. Distracted, at peace, In control. Something he’s never found that easy outside of these four walls.

Every stroke, every line falls exactly where he intends it to. In a way, the rest of the world seems to fade away — no worries, just ink and skin, art coming to life. And it grants him a satisfaction nothing else can quite offer. And if there’s one thing Jungkook prides himself on, it’s his work and dedication. He built this place with steady hands and relentless effort, and he knows damn well he’s good at what he does. Confidence hasn't always been second nature to him, but time and experience have definitely sharpened him.

He leans back slightly to take in the work before him, his disheveled strands of dark hair falling over his eyes as he uses a paper towel to wipe up some excess ink from the client's forearm before glancing up. “How are we holding up?”

The young guy shifts in the chair, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Let’s just say I felt that last bit there.”

Jungkook nods, noting the slight sheen of sweat on the guy's forehead. He’s just glad he’s not a squirmer. That shit makes his job so much harder than it needs to be.

His own body is the canvas of plenty tattoos. All colours, shapes and sizes. He's more than numb to the pain now. But he gets it.

“You’re doing really well. I won’t torture you much longer. We’re almost done with the worst part.” Pressing the pedal again, he feels the familiar vibration travel up his arm, he tongues with his lip piercing, a habit that signals his concentration. His hair is dusting over his eyes as he continues with the last bits of shading and does the final touch ups of all the smaller details. Another forty five minutes pass, broken by lighthearted conversation here and there. Though Jungkook never used to be one for making conversation before, he has long mastered the art of letting his mouth wander while his hands and precision remain steady and focused.

“Alright, and we’re done,” he wipes down the fresh ink one last time before setting the tattoo gun aside, letting out a silent exhale as he wheels back, peeling off his black gloves to grab the aftercare instruction sheet, ready to spew his usual little lecture he knows most people don’t even pay much attention to.

“Sit up slowly.” Jungkook instructs.

When the guy finally stands, he marvels at his tattoo in the mirror. Jungkook feels a flicker of pride swell in his chest. No matter how many times he does this, seeing the completed, polished work and his client's expressions of amazement never gets old. “Looks sick man. Better than I imagined.” He beams, twisting his arm under the light, his smile spreading all across his face.

“Good choice with the design.” Jungkook replies with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He then places the protective film, gives him a quick rundown of the aftercare and hands him the sheet. “Take care of it. Follow the aftercare instructions and it’ll heal nicely. And you know, any issues just come by or give me a call and I’ll check it out.”

“Will do. Thanks man, it’s perfect.”

As the last client of the day slips out with a final wave and he hears the bell over at the entrance ding, Jungkook finally feels the exhaustion set in — the kind that only comes after hours of steady concentrated work. Fuck, he really does need to work on his posture. He stretches his back, then cracks his knuckles, stretching his toned, inked arms over his head. But despite the tiredness, he feels no rush no rush to get back to his empty apartment.

He never does.

Instead, he takes his time wiping down his station, tidying all his clutter and ink in the methodical and organized way only he understands — something Yoongi always grumbles about when borrowing his space. But this is his sanctuary. He makes the rules. And yoongi may complain, but he accepts it.

When he's done cleaning up, Jungkook emerges into the entrance area of the studio, rubbing the back of his neck and ruffling his hair at the nape.

Yoongi stretches in his chair behind the front counter, arms lifting above his head as he lets out as wide yawn, smacking his lips as his eyes land on the younger. “Christ, I thought you were dead in there,” he says deadpan, watching as Jungkook attempts to roll out the tension coiled in his shoulders, stifling a yawn himself. “Or are you? I genuinely can't tell.”

“Very funny.” Jungkook mutters, slumping onto the leather couch with an over dramatic sigh, throwing the back of his arm over his eyes as he lets his body sink into the plush cushion. It’s moments like this he’s really fucking glad they invested in a good sofa. He wants it to swallow him.

“Sure you can survive the schedule tomorrow? We’re fucking packed.” He says.

Jungkook’s brows knit together as his eyes dart over to Yoongi, eyeing the printed schedule in front of him as he rubs his jaw. “What? You think I can't handle it?”

Yoongi shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He coughs into his fist, a rough dry sound that echoes through the quietness of the now empty studio. “I know you think you’re some kind of machine,” he gives the younger a pointed look, “but let me just remind you that you are, in fact, very much not.”

Jungkook's lips quirk. “Woah, woah. I’ll be fine. Unlike someone who sounds like they've caught the plague.” Lifting his arms from his eyes just enough to peer at Yoongi, he swings his arm as if to push him away. “Stay away from me with that. I can’t afford a day off anytime soon.”

Yoongi scoffs, waving a dismissive hand as he coughs into his fist again. “Relax, it's just the dust. Or if you’re lucky enough I've caught that shit going around. Won't be on your case anymore for at least two weeks. That's if I survive.”

The sound is muffled by his arm as Jungkook lets out a tired chuckle, but his eyes remain closed. “Now you’re just trying to get out of work tomorrow, hyung. I know your little tricks.”

“If anyone should be trying to get our work, it should be you. Admit your running on fumes.” Yoongi drops the piece of paper to the desk and crosses his arms, looking right across to Jungkook, his eyes squinting lightly.

Jungkook feels his heavy gaze, but he's not in the mood to face one of Yoongis lectures right now. He can’t exactly argue that. Because he knows Yoongi is not entirely wrong.

He's working six days a week, morning till night, barely stopping to take a breath. Hell, it would've been the entire seven days of the week if Yoongi hadn’t raised hell the day he suggested it. Jungkook had tried to reason with him, insisting that Yoongi would still get his days off as usual, that he’d open up the studio alone on weekends and get everything sorted for the week ahead. But it was never about that, and he knew it.

Jungkook has always had a knack for picking up self-destructive tendencies. A slow brewing kind of self destruction, pushing himself way past his limits, working himself down to the bone until he can barely function. And Yoongi simply wasn't going to stand back and watch it happen all over again right in front of his eyes.

Most days, he only eats because it’s Yoongi who shoves food his way, whether he wants it or not. Prepping meals and stashing them away in their mini fridge in the back room where Jungkook can find them, labeled with a little note in his unmistakable messy handwriting that reads “eat.”

Because behind his serious facade, Yoongi had always tried his best to care for him.

From countless nights of dragging his black out drunk body home back in college, and many times after college as well. To picking him up from the streets at 4 am after he got into a nasty fight, bruised and bleeding and sobbing his heart out alone on an empty sidewalk. Yoongi didn’t question it back then, didn't hesitate. He never does. He just helped quietly with no second thought, allowing him to sit with his silent sobs on the car ride home. He had always been there, offering him a home when he had nowhere else to go, offering everything he had if it helped Jungkook from drowning.

It was Yoongi that had seen the potential in him and had patiently guided him to finally see it for himself, helping him build this studio from nothing — helping him build every piece of furniture, putting up every shelf, painting every wall, making sure Jungkook finally had something to call his.

And now, despite all the hardships, he’s come further than they both could have imagined.

Yet deep down, Yoongi knows no amount of help can stop Jungkook from being who he is, not when he has it so deeply rooted in himself to self sabotage in every way he possibly can. It's simply how he’s wired. Yoongi has long accepted that some things are simply beyond his reach, and that Jungkook won’t ever fully change. And he may never admit it out loud, but somewhere in his heart, as the eldest, he’s always felt an unspoken weight of responsibility for Jungkook. That's why he tries relentlessly to guide him towards better choices.

Even though Jungkook has matured and come a long way from his troubled past and the reckless kid he used to be, he’s far from eradicating his bad habits entirely. He knows he’s working himself down to the bone. He knows it's not healthy. Unrealistic for him to sustain in the long run. But he doesn’t like himself when he’s unoccupied.

He doesn't like the quiet.

Because when there’s silence, there’s space for his mind to make noise.

So that’s what he does. He works, works until he can exhaust himself to the point of passing out, too drained to even feel. It means no thoughts can haunt him when his head hits the pillow. And he’s okay with that.

Besides, he loves his job. That's a fact. The only thing he’s passionate about. All he’s ever found himself to be good at. He doesn’t need anything or anyone else.

Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“Fumes are still fuel,” Jungkook shoots back. He reaches behind his head to grab an old vintage manga off the small side table, flipping through the pages without really reading.

Yoongi studies him for a moment, his sharp gaze softening just a fraction. He shifts in his seat, resting his elbows on the counter, zeroing in on him as if he were ready to throw out a serious scolding, like he did back when he was a kid. But his next words are nothing but gentle. “You know, if you wanna keep up with that schedule, you’re gonna need sleep. I can close up if you wanna head out first.”

Jungkooks expression falters — just a flicker. But he covers it with an exaggerated groan. It does get on his nerves ever so slightly, just slightly. What is it with everyone always underestimating him? Treating him like he's not capable of making his own decisions. But his tongue toys with his lip ring as he continues flicking through the pages, feigning nonchalance. “I’m good. I wanna sketch out a few new designs first. Got some ideas ratting around.”

Yoongi squints at him, clearly unconvinced. “You do know that old couch isn't a substitute for a bed, right? and you could just…do that at home.”

Jungkook tosses the comic aside as he shrugs, already bored of the conversation, his inked fingers drumming relentlessly against the worn red leather. “I focus better here.” Is his simple answer, but before Yoongi can speak, a loud siren cuts through their conversation, blaring jarringly as it flashes by across the street. Almost instantly another follows, and then another.

Instinctively, both of their heads turn towards the window, though it only gives view to a small glimpse of the larger front street, most of their view blocked by the building across from them, all they can see is the bright lights flashing as they rush past.

“The hell’s that about,” Yoongi mutters, straightening in his chair.

Jungkook furrows his brows, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better look outside. But from what he can see, everything seems normal enough — cars passing by, people going about their night and a few students heading home from late study sessions. Nothing in particular out of the ordinary.

The studio is located on a fairly quiet smaller side street, on the outskirts of the city, just a little further from the booming heart of Seoul. It’s never as busy or chaotic here, much quieter.

“Accident, maybe?” Jungkook guesses, a tired breath slipping past his lips. It’s still Seoul after all. When is it ever completely quiet?

Yoongi hums in agreement, but as if on cue, another set of sirens blares through the streets, overlapping with others as the noise grows, this time it’s police cars too, wailing violently and urgently before fading into the distance as they speed away. Jungkook glances at Yoongi, who meets his gaze with an equally puzzled expression.

“Must be pretty bad.” Jungkook says.

Yoongi just pulls out his phone to check the time and sighs. “Well, whatever it is, I'm not sticking around to find out.” He pushes himself to his feet, patting his back pocket to pull out his dented pack of cigarettes before reaching for his jacket draped over the back of the chair.

A slight sense of uneasiness crawls up Jungkook's spine. That was about four ambulances and three police cars if not more. That’s….that’s a lot. But he soon brushes it off. “I’ll check the news later.” He mumbles, letting his heavy body drop back against the soft cushion, with no energy or intention to move.

Yoongi tugs his jacket on, tossing him a small glance. “Well, if you’re gonna stay here, at least don’t fall asleep on that damn couch again. You drool, and it’s gross.”

Jungkook chuckles, though it's half hearted. “I won’t ruin your sacred couch, hyung. Don't you worry.”

“Good.” Yoongi deadpans, heading toward the door. He flips the neon sign to closed before turning back to Jungkook once more, his tired features softening just a touch. “Don't stay too late. Tomorrow is fucking packed and you’ll regret it when youre half dead in the morning. And don’t forget about that girl you booked in at 9.”

He presses his eyes shut for a moment, letting out a breath. The girl needed some touch ups to her tattoo but had a busy schedule and no time to visit any other day or at ay other time. So Jungkook did the favour, and offered to book her in before opening time. But fuck. He really does need to stop bending his schedule for people.

He knows he’s going to regret it.

Jungkook just waves a dismissive hand, already getting comfy on the couch. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll leave soon.”

Yoongi doesn't believe him, but he doesn't argue, just pulls out a cigarette from the pack and raises his hands in surrender before he pulls open the door. “Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement. “Rest up, Hyung.”

The studio fades to dead silence once the door closes. Though sirens still echo faintly in the background.

Stretched out on the couch, Jungkook stares at the ceiling a little longer than necessary. His limbs feel heavy, exhaustion pressing down on him heavily. He wants to work on those sketches, he wants to push his limits a little further. But his body seems to know what's best for him. And within minutes, he’s passed out.

When Jungkook’s eyes crack open, it’s to the gentle sound of rain pattering against the windows. But it’s not rain the noise that woke him. Distant voices shout over one another, and the erratic wailing of car alarms and sirens blast in a near distance, sounding like he’s still stuck between consciousness and a dream. Jungkook blinks, then suddenly, screeching tires follow into a loud crash, something heavy and metal hitting the pavement. His heart spikes, and his body jerks up instantly before his mind can register what the hell is going on. The sudden movement makes him lightheaded, blinking as he tries to shake the disorientation fogging his mind.

Shit. How long had he been out?

He curses under his breath, his head throbbing. Did someone just fucking crash their car outside? In his dazed state his fingers fumble for his phone in the front pocket of his jeans. He squints, the bright screen glaring back at him painfully in the darkness of the studio.

11:48 PM.

The first thought that comes to mind is drunk people causing a ruckus. It certainly wouldn't be unusual for Friday night. But then… he stops to listen. Are they breaking in? then his mind steers more towards the possibility of some petty street fight, or some idiots causing trouble. It’s the only conclusion his sleepy can come to.

But then, he hears it.

Raw, panicked, screams erupting from the streets outside. It sounds close. Really close.

What the fuck?

Jungkook feels a sickening pit form in his stomach.

Because that's definitely not the drunken shouts of a fight, not the sound of some petty fight or a car accident. It’s the kind of scream that crawls under your skin. And Jungkook knows the sounds of panic when he hears it. He feels his heart beating in his chest now, fast and strong. Something isn’t right. Before his mind can think further, he pushes off the couch and yanks his leather jacket from the armrest, pulling it on in a swift motion, feeling a little dizzy as the room slowly begins to spin from getting up so fast.

Behind the front counter he crouches, reaching for his motorcycle helmet. But his grip isn't steady, his palms suddenly feel a bit sweaty. The air in the room slightly suffocating.

His mind scrambles as he finally strides for the door, all he knows something is telling him he needs to get out. He’s ready to leave and check on what's happening outside, but just as his fingers brush the cold metal door handle—

A loud bang crashes into the large front window of the studio.

The impact rattles the entire front window, the glass shuddering violently as something smacks right into it with bone crushing force, causing large cracks to expand from the center like a spiderweb, blooming outwards across the glass. The helmet drops to the ground with a loud thud and Jungkook stumbles back in the darknesses, almost crashing back into the front counter as his breath gets stuck in his throat.

Jungkook freezes. His entire body completely paralyzed as he watches a thick, dark gush of red begin to trail down the ruins of the window. His eyes slowly follow it upwards and then…then he sees it.

A face, wedged between the shards of glass.

Jungkook sees the face of a man...except, it can't be. The skin is unnaturally pale, sickly white, dark veins bulging beneath the surface, tiny pieces of glass wedged everywhere into its flesh. Blood coats its entire mouth, dripping to the floor beneath — but it's the eyes… They send a shot of terror right down Jungkook's spine.

They’re clouded and gray, almost white and eerily vacant, yet somehow, they’re locked right onto him.

Jungkook feels like he can’t take a breath, his chest tight as his eyes grow with complete shock and confusion.

Then, it moves.

Its head twitches in a slow agonized form before it seems to fully register Jungkook's figure standing right across. It cocks his head towards him completely with a grotesque sound of craking and lunges forward, slamming its hands against the glass with inhuman strength. Giving it all his power to break inside. It lets out another groan, a guttural broken sound as it reveals a row of blood stained teeth, the deep red liquid dripping from its mouth.

Jungkook swallows hard. If he moves will it move too? Will it...chase him? He feels like no oxygen is reaching his lungs, or his brain, his mind struggling to even process what he is seeing. That…that can't be real. It can’t be human. All he can do is watch as his heartbeat pounds like a hammer in his chest, louder than the sirens and screams growing outside, louder than the animalistic banging against the window.

That…thing is trying to kill him. It’s going to kill him.

It doesn’t stop. It claws at the glass, smearing the blood, desperate, mindless — growing more violent as it seems to realise its stuck. But the glass creaks more with each hit, trembling under the pressure of each movement, and Jungkook realizes it might not hold up much longer. He has no time.

Move.

He has to move.

Like a spring snapping, his body finally kicks into action. He stumbles backwards, feeling glass beneath his shoes as he tries to hold in a breath, his eyes fixed on the creature as he tries to back away with steady steps. After a beat, he sprints towards the back of the studio, running as his body pushes through the beaded curtain into the back room.

His hands fumble frantically in his pocket — keys, keys, keys — but his hands are trembling too much to grip them. Fuck.

Jungkooks mind races with a thousand questions colliding all at once. But none of them make sense. None of them are even remotely rational.

That thing. It wasn’t human. Then what the hell was it?

Another jarring bang echoes in the studio, followed by a loud screech. But Jungkook doesn’t look up. He doesn’t have time. His only thought is to get out of here. Fast. He needs to get away from whatever the fuck that is. He needs to get to his motorcycle. He needs to get the police.

His fingers finally curl around cold metal. The keys. With a sharp inhale, he yanks opens the heavy back door leading into the tiny side alley and slams it shut behind him as he rushes out.

It’s dim, lit only by a flickering street lamp near the end, casting eerie shadows across the brick walls. The air is cool and damp, the smell of rain fresh on the damp asphalt and the sound of sirens and shouting voices in the distance become even clearer than before. But Jungkook can't see the one thing he’s looking for. His gaze darts around frantically and he feels a dreadful realization claw at his throat.

His motorcycle is gone. The spot where it’s always parked is empty.

Jungkook panics, his hands coming to his hair. Fuck, fuck, fuck. As he looks around helplessly, his breath only grows more erratic. He finds no other option but to run, so he runs to the end of the alleyway, running right towards the screams and tumult, and when he reaches the end, the scene unfolding before him almost kicks him to his feet.

The once quiet street had turned into a horrifying scene. People mindlessly running away from something. But what his eyes land on almost immediately is on a young woman in the middle of street, clutching her neck with both hands, her body swaying as she chokes out for help before she drops to her knees, her body shaking. Jungkook watches in horror as someone else runs right past her, coming from the same direction, white button up shirt soaked in something dark as his features display a kind of terror he’d never witnessed before. Across the street, an older man is pulling down the storefront gates as he locks himself inside, letting two kids in high school uniforms scream and kick as they beg to be let in, screaming and crying.

“What the fuck...” the words escape involuntarily in a quiet mumble to himself, his hands coming to his head.

Jungkook blinks repeatedly, completely aghast. But he doesn’t think— just moves, bolting down the street. His thick leather boots slam against the wet pavements as he runs, his dark hair blows in the air, his skin covered in a layer of sweat as he weaves past a fallen trash can and then a body, his breath ragged as he tries not to slip on the broken glass. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins too strong to even feel his body protesting.

Rounding a corner, he nearly collides into another person, but his hands instinctively come up to push them away, almost knocking them to the ground. He doesn’t have a space in his mind to think about it or time to dwell on it. His body acting on autopilot. The more he runs, the more people seem to be running in the opposite direction. Away from something. His legs burn as he sprints faster, but coming off onto the main street of Jongno, he comes to a halt as he takes in the state of the streets, pupils blown as something terrible dawns on his expression.

The city is in shambles.

Everything.

Chaos.

Cars sit abandoned in the middle of the road, their doors flung open, some have crashed into street lamps and traffic signs, into each other at intersections, even buildings, the smoke clouding up into the dark sky. Blending with the red and blue of wailing sirens. People are everywhere. Hundreds of people are running in all different directions — some screaming, some covered in blood, some sobbing and some seemingly unmoving on the ground. Pushing and tripping against each other, running, but most don’t even know what they’re running from, simply following the crowd.

How many more of those rabid people were there? How far had this spread?

He wants so badly to be wrong, but something deep inside him tells him this is something big.

He stills for an instant, trying to orientate himself. He scans the street hurriedly for the best route to avoid getting stuck in a crush, to avoid more of those things…but all he sees is the panicked chaos spreading by the second.

Jungkook feels like he’s outside of his body, like this is a dream, a nightmare he’ll wake up from any second now. He closed his eyes for a second and inwardly prays for it to be just a bad dream. But the air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke and blood, and the pounding in his chest is too real. The world around him still screams, set aflame.

This can’t be real.

This…this can’t be happening.

Just a few meters away from him two figures wrestle on the ground — except one of them isn’t fighting back anymore, and the other is hunched over them, their head buried in the victim’s throat. Jungkook staggers back, his stomach lurching at the gut wrenching sounds of someone being mauled alive, bile burning the back of his throat when he watches infected pulls back, large chunks of flesh dangling from its bloody mouth, dripping crimson.

The truth slams into him, but his mind is till fighting to accept it.

People are killing people. Eating people. Except…they're not people. They’re monsters.

Jungkook scans the crowd for an escape route, desperate. After a moment, he catches sight of the least crowded street, it's right on the way to his place. He takes a sharp breath and runs, runs non stop down a dozen blocks. But as he navigates the frantic roads, he spots something as he runs past a small street. Stopping him in his tracks. He notices a tiny figure huddled up alone at the beginning of an alleyway, wearing bright pink, shoulders trembling and hands pressed over her ears as she sobs violently.

A child, no older than three or four if Jungkook had to guess. He halts, heart pounding as he registers her small frightened face, streaked with tears.

He should keep running, he knows he should. His body is urging him to just keep moving, his insides shaking with adrenaline. That’s not his responsibility. He hasn’t stopped for anyone. But the burning images of what he’s just witnessed flash fresh in his mind. And something deeper roots him in place. Something inside him twists, snaps almost, an unfamiliar instinct that overrides his own confusion and fear.

Ah, fuck it.

Before his mind can catch up with what he’s doing, he rushes into the alley, approaching the child cautiously with slow steps as he gets closer. He crouches down to her level, looking over his shoulder nervously. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” his voice is gentle but hurried as he searches her face. “Where are your parents? Are you lost?”

The small girl just looks up at him with large, wet eyes and a trembling pout, her hands balled into tiny fists. She doesn’t answer, just stares, whimpering and hiccuping softly, like she’s been warned to not talk to strangers — especially not ones clothed head to toe in black, covered in tattoos and piercings like himself. He glances around, hoping to see someone rushing towards them, any sign of this child's parents so he can just hand her over and run, but there’s nothing, just the crowd at the end of the alley pushing past in frantic waves and yelling, no one stopping to even look in their direction.

He has to do something.

“Do you…where did you see your parents last-” a loud metal bang echoes in the distance, making Jungkook and the child flinch, a heavy breath escaping him. Fuck, his mind races as he realizes she’s truly alone. The girl just sobs more and he curses under his breath, eyes pressed shut as his mind scrambles for what to do.

He can’t just leave her alone in whatever the hell this is. But what the hell is he supposed to do?

“Uh, alright,” he coughs, throat dry, and speaks softly but hurriedly, trying to mask his unease as he reaches out his hand. “Come with me. It’s not safe here. I’ll… I'll help you find your parents.”

He’ll take her home, get her out of danger and call the police. That’s what he should do.

It’s the right thing to do.

Okay.

He hopes she knows he’s only trying to help. God, his pulse races every second he’s standing here still. They need to move. Now. She just stares at him, uncertain, then slowly reaches out with her tiny fingers, clasping his much larger hand with a surprising grip. She must see past his intimidating exterior, or be so terrified that she’ll take up any offer of being reunited with her parents, either way, her innocence makes Jungkook's heart sting a little. He can't just leave a child out here, he has to help her before something terrible happens to her or she falls into the wrong hands. He doesn't know what the hell to do, all he knows is they have to run, run right now and get away from this, and-

Suddenly, a piercing, desperate voice breaks through the havoc of noise, loud enough to catch Jungkook's attention.

“Jieun!”

The sound makes his entire body lock up, his heart jumping in his chest as he turns toward the voice.

Running towards him, just feet away, eyes filled with worry and tears, he sees you.

Jungkook feels the blood drain from his face.

For a split moment, the world seems to fall silent. The noise, the screams and chaos, the sirens — all of it blurs into a distant hum in the back of his mind. He feels like the air is knocked straight from his lungs as he slowly takes in your face, a slightly more matured version of a face he once knew every inch of, a face he’d buried away along with every memory he’d tried so hard everyday to annihilate ever since you disappeared from his life. A face he could never forget, not even after four painful years.

It can’t be.

No, no, no-

But it’s real, because there you are. Lunging forward and arms out reaching for the little girl beside him with thick tears of relief flooding from your eyes. The child lets go of Jungkook's hand instantly and her tiny feet pat across the concrete as she launches herself into your embrace, leaving him behind to watch, frozen and stone cold like a statue.

“Mommy!” She cries.

Jungkook feels his stomach drop. He thinks he's going to throw up.

He must’ve heard that incorrectly.

Mommy? That child is…

He feels like he can’t move, blood cold as he watches you crumble to your knees, gathering the little girl into your arms with a grip that looks suffocating, as if she might disappear into thin air again. Your whole frame trembles as you hold her close, relief pouring from you in loud, choked sobs, your fingers getting tangled in her wet hair as you comb though it desperately.

That’s.. your child?

“Jieun, oh my god, baby. You’re here, you’re okay,” your voice cracks with all the pain your body just underwent, whispering against her temple. “Are you hurt? You’re not hurt are you, baby?”

The last thing you remember is being in the convenience store when the chaos began. When you walked out you had no choice but to run into the crowd. How Jieun was holding your hand and in the blink of an eye, her hand slipped from yours. You turned back, screaming her name, but she was gone, just another small figure lost in the stampede of a city falling apart.

By the time you fought your way out of the crowd, Jieun was nowhere in sight. Your heart is still hammering loudly between your ribs, mind stuck on the past horrifying minutes since she disappeared from your side.

But as you finally look up… all your relief shifts, eyes darkening with shocking realisation that mirrors the expression in the man standing just feet away when you. Heart hammering in your chest as if it recognized him before your eyes do.

You blink once, twice to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. Completely distraught.

If Jungkook thought he was stuck in a bad dream before, he’s certain now this is all a cruel, sick and twisted nightmare. He feels his stomach churn. The weight of clashing emotions and utter disbelief thrown over him. So many questions he can’t yet voice crashing into him like a bucket of ice cold water, making his blood run cold.

This has to be some kind of sick joke.

All of it.

“Jungkook?” Your voice trembles, barely a whisper, as if the sound of his name out loud might shatter you to pieces.

He’s standing in front of you, drenched from the rain, his wet dark hair hanging messily in his face — so much longer than it used to be. He has new piercings on his face, and his features have definitely matured. He looks…different, yet somehow exactly how you remember him. His big dark eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel your world stop.

“Y/n?” His voice cracks slightly, like he’s just been punched in the gut. “Wh…what are you doing here?” but there’s no anger in his voice, just confusion, and perhaps, a hint of something painful. His words hang heavy between you, getting lost in the sounds of the burning city beyond this tiny street, and you feel a paralysing weight on your chest. Your mind reeling beyond comprehension.

You open your mouth to speak, ready to say something, anything. But you feel like you’ve forgotten how to form words. So you close it again, no words come out. His eyes flicker from your face to the little girl clutching your side, and you feel a pit sinking in your stomach. God, please no.

This can’t be happening — not here, not now.

Not like this.

You want to bolt, to run and not look back like you always do. You wish the earth would just swallow you entirely. But all you can do is stand there, your heart pounding faster in your chest, mouth dry.

You try to step around him, desperate to move forward, to escape this horror. But before you know it, his hand catches your arm. He grips you gently, but with a force that indicates he won’t let you slip away again. His touch almost makes you fall to your knees.

“Come with me.”

Your body stiffens at his words, and you swat your arm loose of his grip. You lift Jieun into your arms instinctively, fingers curling around her small body as if the mere act of holding her can shield you from everything. From him, from all the pain, from all of this living nightmare.

“No,” you say, the word coming out broken, like your breath is caught. “I can’t go with you. I need- I need to get hob-”

“My apartment isn’t far,” he cuts in, not giving you space to say more. “We need to get off the streets.’’

You hesitate, watching his gaze scurry between you both again. Everything in you is telling you to just run, to put as much distance as you can between yourself and Jungkook. Willing this conversation to die before it can even begin. Before he can start asking questions you’re not ready to answer. Before you have to face things you’ve already buried deep. Before it’s too late. You need to leave. But Jieun is shaking, clutching onto you for dear life as she whimpers against your chest, and the sounds of screams still ringing in your ears. And there’s infected everywhere. You’re stuck in the middle of a warzone, and you have no idea what to do, no idea where to go.

All you know is you need to get Jieun out of this. Away from danger.

“Have you not seen what the fuck is going on? People have gone fucking insane!” His tone grows harsher now, trying to knock some sense into you. “We need to move.”

A gut wrenching scream echoes from somewhere beyond the alley, closer than before this time. Too close.

Jungkook swears under his breath, running a hand through his hair, torn between a storm of brewing emotions and the immediate danger closing in. His jaw tightens as he looks behind him then back to you. “Y/n, we need to go. Now.”

You shake your head violently, and you can feel hushed tears burning behind your eyes. You can’t breathe, can’t think clearly. All you can feel is Jieun trembling in your arms.

“Please-” his voice drops, raw and desperate. Almost a plea.

And don’t know when or why it happens, but the next thing you know, your feet are moving. You’re running with everything you have left in you.

Somehow, the world is ending, and you’re allowing yourself to be guided by Jungkook down streets devoured by chaos, heading to the only safe place around you.

His home.

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bearxgyeomie · 4 days ago

Text

The Places Between Us: Prologue (OT8 X Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Fem!reader | Side pairings: Fem!Reader x ATEEZ

Word Count: 7k

Genre: Smut, angst, slight fluff | AU: fantasy!au

Summary: Afflicted by a terrible curse, YN must travel through the vast kingdom and suffer through eight lords of the north to reach her destination: the demon who created in the first place, Lord Kim.

Overall Tags: dub-con, mind control, enslavement, kidnapping, forced breeding, monster fucking, sex work, mentions/implications of abuse, mentions/implications of SA, public sex, exhibitionism, humiliation, degradation, breeding kink, bigdick!Seonghwa, bigdick!Yunho, undead sex, sex w/ undead, belly bulge, anal sex, anal fingering, vaginal sex, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, squirting/vaginal ejaculation, slight size kink (height wise), overstimulation, facials, cum swallowing, choking, dom!ateez, sub!reader, tit fucking, sex toys, bondage, multiple partners, threesome, orc!jongho, naga!seonghwa, demon!hongjoong, dragon!yunho, undead!mingi, goblin!yeosang, lycan!san, lycan!wooyoung.

Note: if you choose to ignore the red tags, don't cry to me about it.

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of ATEEZ in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you.

Part 1: The Naga King >

****

At the Rooster’s Nest, there are two types of clients: single clients and married ones. A lot of the workers there, whether they be “entertainers” or barmaids, tend to steer clear of the married customers. They don’t mind pouring them drinks, sitting on their laps as they gamble, or give them a private strip tease, but a personal session? Never. The last thing an “entertainer” needed was an angry wife bursting through the door and throttling her for doing her job. So, a good portion of them stayed away from customers with spouses at home.

Except you.

You didn’t mind customers who had someone waiting on them. In fact, you preferred them. You told others that it gave you an excuse to charge an extra fee, your ‘hazard pay’. If a man wanted you badly enough, he’d have to pay extra for the pleasure of your company. Your colleagues laughed at your boldness, often giving words of caution, but you told them the money was worth it. They weren’t surprised, of course. You became notorious for it.

“You can charm the pants off anyone, YN,” Hyunjin told you in the dressing room. The silver-haired siren sat at his vanity, combing out his long strands, as he spoke. “I thought I could seduce someone, but you have me beat, I must say. I don’t know how you do it, but you do it.”

“What’s your secret?” a woman with sleek brown hair came walking out of an adjacent room, half-dressed with her hair tied in a high ponytail. Chorong leaned against the wall next to your table and crossed her arms. “Love potion? Special pheromone perfume?”

You shrugged, “I just know what men like, that’s all. They’re not hard to read, especially after they've had a few drinks.”

Dabbing blush onto your cheeks, you smirked to yourself. It came naturally to you, you supposed. Since you grew up without parents, you’d started caring for yourself at a young age. You aren’t particularly big or strong. You might be clever and cunning, but you have no head for numbers or reading. You only had your looks and charm. If you were short of money in the market, you batted your lashes and budding breasts at the merchant and he gave you what you wanted. Whenever you’d been caught stealing, a few whispered promises and sweet words enchanted the sheriff into letting you go with a warning. People can be quite easy once you understand them. All the men who came into The Rooster’s Nest only wanted two things: booze and women. You provided both.

Fixing up your eyebrows for a final time, you checked out yourself in a mirror. Tonight you wore the red and gold halter top, and the long skirt that hung low on your hips. A tantalizing outfit, the two slits in the skirt left a bit for the imagination and the vibrant color drew the eye. The golden bangles on your wrists, and the necklace draped between your breasts added another layer of regality. In the mirror, you transformed from a country girl to a seductive goddess. You’d have no trouble alluring the right men tonight.

One man in particular stuck out in your mind.

“Are you seeing Him tonight?” Hyunjin asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

You couldn't suppress your smile at the question. A pointed face with dark round eyes came to the forefront of your mind. The thought of his wide, gummy smile only broadened yours. Your stomach filled with butterflies as his laugh echoed in your head. You hadn't seen or heard from Hongjoong in several weeks, but you knew he had not forgotten you. The numerous trinkets and love letters in your bedroom told you so. He never said when he'd arrive; he simply showed up and spent the night before leaving again. A situation like this might bother some women, but for a woman in your profession, it worked out well.

“I don't know,” you answered. “He hasn't said if he'd come by or not.”

“He's probably with his wife and kids right now,” Chorong joked, earning giggles from the people around her. “A good looking guy like him is definitely not single.”

“No,” you shook your head, “Hongjoong isn't like that. I can tell.”

Memories of your last night with him came flooding back. Eyes landing on a crystal necklace hanging from your mirror, you admired the white raw moonstone on a silver chain. The silver circled it as if encased in ice, gleaming in the light of the dressing room. You picked it up and clasped it around your neck.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to wear that?” Hyunjin asked, tying a glittery sash around his hips. “Vernon might show up.”

“I don’t care,” you admired the stone laying on your chest. It stood out against the gold and ruby necklaces you wore. Hongjoong might come tonight and see you wearing his gift. “If he doesn’t like it, he can go with somebody else.”

“Ha, I doubt he’ll do that.”

Chwe Vernon was a walking money bag with a pretty face. Son of Gold Rush’s mayor, he also ran the largest farm in the area. He comes into The Rooster’s Nest with pockets full of gold and silver to spend on ale, gambling tables, and pretty girls. A lot of your coworkers didn’t mind humoring him whenever he came into the tavern, but they never went past a kiss or a feel. Vernon might be handsome and rich, but not enough to risk running into his wife.

He didn’t hold a candle to Hongjoong. Not by a long shot.

“You’re playing with fire, girl,” he chuckled. “Haeyoung isn’t one to be messed with.”

“Oh, what will that little rat do? Squeak at me?” You said, a bit annoyed thinking about Vernon’s jealous wife.

More people might pursue Vernon if it weren’t for the rumors that spread about Haeyoung. The rumors that she was more than a mere apothecary and healer. One of the church women claimed they once saw Haeyoung performing dark magic rituals in the forest while another claimed she’d set a curse upon her daughter. Witches are not well liked in the smaller country towns, where prejudice stemmed from fear of the unknown and unfamiliar. You found this to be hypocritical since your local priest, Father Moon, wielded what people called ‘Holy Magic’. But then again, he claimed his powers came from a high being, so people accepted him. The only reason Haeyoung never stood on the gallows was Vernon and his family. An upstanding family like the Chwe’s wouldn’t let a witch into their clan, so it must be a rumor. Still, people remained suspicious. That suspicion turned into caution. Cross Chwe Haeyoung, and become cursed.

You found this to be utter nonsense. The only beings with any real magic are the non-humans, or ‘magicfolk’, like Hyunjin, who was a Siren from the Northern Sea. You saw glimmers of his “unnaturalness” in the shimmery contours of his face, a light aqua against fair skin and the dark blue hue of his full lips. Aside from him, a good chunk of the people who lived in Gold Rush are also magicfolk. Some of your best and favorite regulars are not human; you had many elven, goblins and were-people as friends. You doubted Haeyoung, with her mundane humanity, was anything close to magical.

“Well, I’m off,” you concluded, slipping into a pair of sandals. “I’ll see you two on the floor.”

You walked out into the tavern’s main room. Several gambling tables took over the large hall, while a band played music in a nearby corner. Behind the bar, you saw Yoongi wiping down pint glasses while Namjoon served beer from the barrels. You gave him a wink, which made him smile brightly. You never could resist a handsome face. Men are a weakness of yours, especially the particularly handsome ones. It’s why you’d become so interested in Vernon initially. His looks drew you to him, but it was his purse that kept you around. Sauntering by the bar, you gave Namjoon a flirty smile.

“Evening Joonie,” you said, making eye contact.

“Evening YN,” he breathed, passing out a pint of ale while looking you over. “You look sensational.”

“Don’t I always?” you approached the bar, taking in Namjoon’s muscles and broad shoulders. “Busy tonight?”

“Not busy enough to ignore you,” he winked, then turned away.

You left the bar for the stages on the other side. The sensuality going through the room slipped into your body, and controlled your swaying hips as you walked. A young woman in nothing but a golden chain harness and mesh underwear contorted herself into complicated positions for a group of men near the stage. A tall, lavender-skinned she-elf danced provocatively on one of the smaller stages on either side of the area, golden coins in pails at the corners.

Standing near the area, you searched for Hongjoong. He liked sitting at the back tables, where he could watch in private. He always came alone; he hardly spoke to anyone except the occasional “business partner”. Hongjoong never said what he did for a living, but you knew it must be profitable. The man’s pockets never seemed to empty. Your heart weighed slightly when you did not see him at his usual spots. Perhaps he’ll come later on in the night.

You took your place on the opposite stage, and started swaying and whirling your hips. It didn’t take long for customers to gravitate towards you. You gave your flirtatious winks, your sly smirks, and sultry responses. You showed glimpses of your breasts and backside, knowing how it made them drool. Their attention fueled your movements; their desire to touch you sparked a similar arousal in you. Hongjoong said he loved watching you dance. His eyes followed every movement, glued to your body and already planning what he’d do with you later.

“Namjoon!” Vernon waltzed into the tavern, giving the bartender a wide smile as he put a coin on the bartop. “One pint, please. I’ve built up a thirst tonight.”

This was your chance. Hongjoong won’t be upset if you took up with someone else before him. A girl needed to eat after all. Hopping off the stage, you made your way over to Vernon through the crowd.

“Hello, handsome,” you said with a smile, taking the spot next to him.

Vernon’s eyes glued to your body the second he saw you. They drank in your scandalous outfit, focusing on your chest a bit longer before meeting your eyes. “YN…” he said, “You’re a sight for sore eyes. I bet people have been drooling over you all night.”

“They have,” you admitted, walking closer, “But there’s only one person I want drooling over me.”

Make him feel special. Even if it’s for an hour or two, your job was to make an everyday man feel like a king. You took the ale Namjoon placed on the bar and sipped it, keeping your eyes on Vernon as you did so. Pointedly, you let the top foam slide down the sides of your mouth before wiping them away.

“Trust me,” he smirked, pulling you by the waist and taking the beer, “I’ll be doing more than drooling by the end of the night.”

“Oh?” you teased, “And what about Haeyoung?”

“She’s out of town,” he said. “Something about meeting a friend up north. I don’t know, but she won’t be coming here.”

“Good,” you said, hands on his chest, “I don’t want her to spoil your good time.”

“Neither do I,” he replied, hand on the small of your back. “Come sit with my men and I,” he insisted, “I could use a good luck charm at the tables.”

You let him lead you to an open table and sat in his lap. ‘Good luck charm’ was Vernon’s way of saying he needed an accomplice. You’d distract his opponents with your tits or a compliment whenever Vernon switched cards up his sleeves or stole chips from them. Being a rich man who surrounded himself with desperate men, they didn’t dare speak out if they did catch him cheating.

“This is real silver and moonstone,” Vernon asked half way through the game. He lifted the moonstone from your neck, “Where did you get this?”

“It’s a gift,” you saw his jealousy rising, and you felt annoyed.

“From who? Nobody around here can buy this kind of thing.”

“He’s from out of town. He comes here sometimes, and he usually gives me nice gifts. Sometimes it’s rare flowers, other times it’s things from exotic places.”

“So, he’s got money?”

“I guess? He travels a lot.”

Vernon nodded, then dropped your necklace. “I don’t see why he bothers,” he said, “Why would any man spend money on a whore?”

You wanted to slap him. You almost did before you remembered his fat coin purse. Hongjoong would’ve punched him. Rich man or not, Hongjoong feared nobody. You knew this from the time you watched him square off against a large farmhand who’d insulted you. The man stood several inches taller, and much wider, yet Hongjoong did not back down. They didn’t come to blows, but just seeing him defend you when other men didn’t strengthened your feelings for him. Vernon would be no match.

After a few rounds of watching the same outcome, you gave a small pout. “This is starting to bore me now. Why don’t we go play our own game upstairs?”

“And what game might that be?” he questioned, pushing hair from your face and letting his fingers trail to your bare shoulder.

You pretended to give it a thought, then picked up a black gambling chip. “Find the Chip,” you winked, already standing with the chip between your teeth.

“My favorite.”

You led him upstairs by the hand, anticipation burning down your body. You knew you’d make a killing tonight. Men like Vernon never went only one time; they had the money, and they’d spend all they had. The moment he shut the door, you began slowly undressing. Vernon’s eyes stayed on you as you removed it piece by piece, unbuttoning his own shirt as he did. Soon, you were naked and pulling back the bed sheets.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he marveled at your nude form, watching you throw the chip onto the bed. “I’ve never been with a woman as beautiful as you before…”

“I’m sure you haven’t,” you said, crawling into the bed and putting the covers over yourself, “Haeyoung isn't a great beauty.”

“Nor as erotic.”

He settled between your thighs and immediately started feeling up and down your body. You giggled every time he brushed a ticklish spot, and gave a soft sigh or two when he moved over a sensitive area. You knew the circular chip was right underneath you, and so did he, but he didn’t go there just yet. Vernon captured your lips in his as he “searched” your breasts. Cupping and squeezing them gently, you felt small sparks of pleasure when he rubbed over your nipples. Your hands roaming down to his waist, you slid them into his pants and squeezed the firm cheeks there. It earned you a low rumble that filled your mouth. Vernon let you massage them while he started grinding against your bare sex. It never took much to warm your clients up, particularly because they come to you already aroused. You simply drew it out of them in every kiss and touch.

Your head turning to give him more access, you happened to glance out the window. On the sill, illuminated by the lantern on the low side table, sat a black bird. You couldn’t make out the breed until it bounced a little closer. A crow. You have never seen one on its own before. The bird stared into the room as if watching you and Vernon. You amused yourself by thinking it’d come to peek in on you.

When he finally found the chip, Vernon received his reward.

“Yes,” he exhaled deeply, feeling your lips finally wrap around his tip, “Just like that.”

You gave the pulsing head a soft lick before sliding it into your mouth. The salty precum threw you off a moment, but you’d grown used to it right away. Sucking firmly, you bobbed your head gradually up and down while keeping your eyes on him. His whines and whimpers made your sex throb; you watched the powerful, influential Chwe Vernon slowly submit to you. You stopped sucking and jerked him as you kissed his thighs, knowing the move arched his back. The pleasure radiating from him brought life into your worn out body; it replaced the emptiness that filled your insides. Whenever you began having sex, Vernon became a man possessed. He suddenly didn’t see sense, and did whatever you wanted him to do. You immediately became his world, which you basked in gladly.

As you went back to sucking his cock, tasting the smooth skin and feeling the veins pulsate against your tongue, the door flew open.

“Vernon! What the hell are you doing?!”

Haeyoung’s howl broke Vernon from your spell, and he bolted upright. You smoothly moved away from him and faced Haeyoung. A sliver of a woman with black hair and dark eyes, Haeyoung’s glaring face irritated you. She always acted so surprised when she caught him with someone. You snatched up your skirt from the floor and started sliding it back up your legs.

“Haeyoung?” Vernon said in disbelief, using a pillow to cover himself, “Wha-What are you doing here? You said you were coming back tomorrow!”

“I came back early,” she said, not looking away from you, “Because I knew you’d take the opportunity to see your whore while I was gone.” She stalked into the room, not bothering to address her husband. “So, you’re the one he’s been seeing. Huh, I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always been the type to take things that aren’t yours, YN.”

“It’s nothing personal, Haeyoung,” you admitted. “Vernon’s just a client. Nothing more. If you’re gonna take it out on anyone, it should be him.”

“It’s not his fault you’re an evil temptress,” she hissed. “You’re a deceitful, greedy whore. You only became a brothel worker so you have excuses to sleep around and feel important, because you know deep down, you’re nothing. It’s probably the reason your parents abandoned you. They knew you’d grow up to be a no-good, worthless whore and didn’t want anything to do with you.”

This insult would’ve brought you to tears when you were ten. Now, as an adult, you felt your rage boiling.

“I wouldn’t know, Haeyoung, they abandoned me, remember?” You remarked, pulling on your top and clasping it behind your neck. “You two can work this out up here,” you tied your skirt around your waist and put it in place, “Goodnight to you both.”

Haeyoung stood between you and the doorway. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Out of my way, Haeyoung, before I call the bouncers.”

“You and those harlots down there,” she growled, “Are going to finally see what happens when you mess with what’s mine.”

“Haeyoung, please!” Vernon called out desperately, “Don’t!”

You saw the look in her eyes, feeling the rage burning within her and boiling to the surface. She did not frighten you. She was a puny little woman angry at the world.

“Goodnight, Haeyoung,” you said firmly, pushing her aside and leaving the room.

“Don’t you walk away from me, you slut!”

“Namjoon!” you called out from the loft above the main room, “Haeyoung’s at it again.”

“I’m on it.”

You’d started walking down the stairs when you heard her from the top landing. “You’re going to regret not curbing this appetite of yours, YN YLN!”

You’d only just turned around when something hit the lower part of your back. Hot, stinging pain paralyzed you, causing you to fall down the rest of the stairs. Your jaw clenched as you restrained a scream. White hot pain shocked your muscles and seeped deep into the area around it; you slammed into the bottom landing as the pain burrowed inside and started spreading. It slowly crept through your veins, starting on your back where it rolled against your spine. The pain came the worst here. You would’ve thought someone tried splitting you in half or swung a burning blade up your back. Your fingers dug into the carpet as your arms started trembling. You swore it went into your fingernails, causing you to curl your fingers into your palms until they bled.

“What the…” Namjoon’s voice sounded closer, “YN!”

“Oh my god, YN!” you heard Hyunjin from nearby.

Their voices barely reached you. The sensation moved from your back to your chest, which burned hotly. It went up into your throat like bile, acidic and viscous, but nothing came up. Only more horrific screams tore through your throat, calling into the air like a banshee. In the blurriness, you made out Haeyoung’s shadowy figure. When she bent down over you, you saw her wicked smugness.

“Haeyoung, what’s happening? Is she alright?” Vernon called from somewhere far away.

“You crazy bitch!” Hyunjin shouted, “What the hell did you do?!”

“You should've kept your legs closed, YN,” she smirked. “Now, you're gonna do anything but close them.”

You clawed at her, but the pain kept you in place.

“Witch!” a voice called out from nearby.

“She really is a witch!”

“Get her!”

Haeyoung yelped when a pair of strong arms lifted her away from you. The self-satisfied smile she’d worn vanished the instant she saw the people around her. “Wait! Wait, no! Vernon! Vernon!”

“Get the sheriff!”

“I got the rope!”

You wanted it to stop. You wanted to die.

“Namjoon, please help!” Hyunjin sobbed. “Please, don’t let her die.”

“A witch! She’s a real witch!” Somebody cried from nearby.

“Get the rope!”

“Let her swing!”

When another person bent over you, you flinched away from their touch at first. It was Namjoon. His hands pressed to the spot on your back, and it felt like fire on your skin. You couldn't hear what he was saying, but he murmured a low incantation in a strange language. Namjoon’s spell soothed the engulfing flames while relaxing the torturous pain.

“Namjoon-” Hyunjin’s whimper interrupted.

“-Hush!”

Namjoon continued chanting, his voice drowning out the commotion going outside. Someone screamed, but you couldn't place the precise location it came from. All you comprehended was your pain and Namjoon's steady, gentle voice. When the sensation slowly dwindled to a dull ache, your brain became fuzzy from the combination of the two.

“Just sleep, YN. Just sleep.”

And so you did.

****

Someone broke all your bones and put them back together with glue. At least, that was how you felt when you woke up the next morning. Laying face down in a soft bed, the faint scent of lemon and lavender filled your nose right away. It had a strangely calming effect on you, as if the scent itself clung to your skin and nostrils to heal you. You didn't know where you were at first. Your brain pieced together what happened the previous night, and all you mustered was Haeyoung’s gloating face. Haeyoung. You thought of the calls for a rope and cries of witchcraft.

“Did they hang her?” Came out of your throat hoarse and cracked.

“Not right away,” Namjoon answered from nearby.

Opening your eyes fully, you saw him crouching by the fireplace. He appeared to be stirring a small pot on the cracking wood. You curled, stretching your aching bones, to get a better look at him. The friendly bartender had shed his persona to reveal the simple man underneath. Gazing down his neck, you noticed his broad shoulders that led to lean arms. Free of his jacket, you saw the swirling black tattoos around his shoulders and wrists. They appeared to be in the shape of runes, at least you guessed. You’d never seen them in all the time you’ve worked at the Rooster’s Nest. When did he get them? What did they mean? It brought attention to his firm, toned body. For a brief moment, you saw yourself kissing down his smooth chest to his navel before slowly tugging his pants to his thighs.

You shook the thoughts from your head.

“Someone dragged her outside while Yoongi got the rope,” Namjoon explained, crushing herbs between his palms then adding them to the pot. “I managed to stop them before they yanked her up the tree.”

“She’s alive, then?”

“No. I only stopped them to question her.”

“About?”

“About where she learned demon magic.”

“Demon magic?” your eyes widened.

“The spell she casted last night can only be casted by a demon,” he nodded, stirring the potion which turned a bright green once the leaves touched the surface. “They're the only beings strong enough to wield them. If she’d been a mere mortal, it meant a demon taught it to her or she stole the magic from one of them.”

“I’m going to take a guess that she wasn’t human?”

“Oh, she was. She was a witch,” He sprinkled a few sprigs of herbs into the potion next, and you saw the green hue turn a murky jade. “Witches can consort with demons. When I asked her, she said a powerful demon showed her things that no mortal ever could. It took me a while, but I learned where she got it from.”

“Are you a demon then?”

He laughed through his nose, “No. You’d know if I was.”

“Then, what are you?”

“Warlock,” he tapped one of the runes on his shoulder. He stirred the green potion in the fireplace, taking a whiff before adding more herbs. “These are protection runes. If Haeyoung tried cursing me, it would have bounced back on her.”

“Wish I had some protection runes,” you muttered. “Where is she now?”

“Six feet under in an unmarked grave,” he said, “What they do to all witches.”

“What happened after they hung her?”

“Haeyoung’s neck broke the second they hoisted her up the tree. Of course, the death of his wife riled Vernon and his boys up so they started fighting the other patrons in the bar. Two men had been shot by the time the sheriff and deputy rode up to the place with their boys. It took them a while to settle everything up and get tempers cooled again, and when they did, the law took in two of Vernon’s gang, a dwarf who’d tried coming at him with an ax, and Yoongi. Don’t worry,” he said at your sudden gasp, “He’s out. They let him go when it was confirmed that she had, in fact, attacked you.”

“Vernon must’ve been pissed about that.”

“He was,” Namjoon nodded.

He ladeled some potion in a pint mug, then came back to your bedside. You forced yourself to sit up despite the tenderness in your limbs, and took the warm mug in your hands. In a few tentative sips, the potion started relaxing your sore muscles. Namjoon watched you drink as he continued.

“Though, I don’t get why. It’s not as if he was a faithful, loving husband.”

“He’ll be glad to be rid of her, I suspect.” You scowled over your drink, taking another sip before saying, “Wish they’d waited until I woke up so I could watch her swing.”

Your upright position stretched your back, and brought focus to the slight stinging coming from where the pain originated. Reaching behind your back to the left side, you felt several raised welts underneath a thin gauze bandage. The sizzling, scorching pain that initially shocked you faded into a faint stinging whenever your fingers brushed it. The patch itself felt wet, but when you brought your hand to your nose, you smelled the earthy scent of witch hazel.

“Is it bad?” you winced over at him.

“It was awful,” he confirmed, “But Healer Yang and I were concerned about the mark itself. It can get infected if left alone for too long. I applied some witch hazel to relieve any inflammation or irritation you might get from it.”

“Mark?! She marked me?!”

Namjoon sighed, then said, “She cursed you, YN. Minor to mild curses don’t typically come with any sort of mark to signify it, but the major ones definitely do.”

You furrowed your brow in thought. Haeyoung had said something as she watched your suffering, but you couldn’t recall it.

“I imagine she thought it’d be ironic,” he said. He went through his satchel nearby, retrieving a small leatherbound book with a strange symbol on the cover. “She already believes all brothel workers are sex-driven animals. It only makes sense that she’d curse you with the Hand of Lust.”

“Hand of Lust?”

He turned the book around on your lap. On the page, the author illustrated a realistic disembodied hand coming out from flickering flames, a bleeding heart inches above the fingertips. Aside from that, they’d written ‘The Hand of Lust’ and a description of the curse.

“‘Those cursed by The Hand will suffer unimaginable lust,” you read out loud. “‘A lust so powerful that it shall drive the cursed to pure madness within several days.’ Wait,” you paused, rereading the sentence, “Pure madness? I’ll go insane?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “You’ll lose your mind and become a zombie basically. I’ve seen it, and it’s not pretty.”

“I mean, I have sex loads so it can’t be that bad…”

“Yes, it can and it is. It’ll start with just being horny a lot but you'll be able to manage, then it’ll turn into an obsession. The slightest suggestion will have you dripping for it,” he explained. “Then, it’ll slowly turn into an addiction. You’ll want it all the time, and probably do crazy shit trying to get it. By the end, you’ll want nothing but sex. You won’t know anything. You won’t be able to think straight, and you’ll never get your senses back. You won’t eat or sleep. You become a shell of who you were before.” He saw the dread filling your eyes, and said, “But, luckily there’s a cure for it.”

“And you happen to have it on you right now?”

“No, sadly not. Demon magic can’t be undone the normal way,” he said. “You’ll have to go to the demon who created the curse. Only they know the secret to lifting it.”

“Great,” you huffed, drinking more of the herbal potion, “Just great. Where would I even find them?”

“You’re in luck. Haeyoung told me everything she knew, since she hoped it might save her. He’s in The Crescent Mountains,” he answered. “She wouldn’t give me a name, but she told me they call him ‘The Dark Lord’.”

“The Dark Lord?” you scoffed, “Really? That’s what he calls himself?”

“It’s what people who’ve met him call him. She said nobody knows his real name.”

“A demon who lives in the coldest mountain range in the north? Oh yes, Namjoon, I’m so lucky. They’re on the other side of the damn kingdom. It’ll take me ages to get there! I’ll be a zombie by then!”

“Two weeks,” he said, “Which is more or less how long the curse takes until it consumes you. But, I found a captain that’ll take you straight there by boat. No detours. You’d be there within a week.”

“And this demon will just lift it for me?”

“Oh, no, he’ll definitely expect something in exchange. That's why I packed this for you.”

He placed a rucksack in front of you. When you opened it, you saw the usual supplies: packets of food, a water canteen, a first aid kit, matches, and a small lantern. But, you also found something large wrapped in velvet. Removing the black cloth, you realized it was a large grey stone. About the size of a baseball, you saw the crimson rune etched into the sides.

“It’s a runestone,” Namjoon explained as you studied the stone. “Demons collect these so they can improve their skills and weapons. This ‘Dark Lord’ will have a hard time saying no to this. Plus,” he smirked, “It might only sweeten the deal if you offered yourself up to him afterwards.”

“I think sex will be the last thing I want once he removes it.” You wrapped the runestone back up, and put it in the bag.

Namjoon hesitated, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Even after hearing his explanations, you still couldn’t fathom your fate. As Namjoon started ladling the rest of the potion into small vials, you played with the crystal still around your neck. Touching it brought a strange kind of comfort. You wished Hongjoong had been there last night. You wouldn’t have bothered with Vernon at all if Hongjoong had been there. You rubbed your thumb along the icy design, you envisioned the end result. You saw yourself walking slowly, groaning and moaning as you searched for any sort of stimulation. The curse itself made sense when you thought about it. Haeyoung already saw you as a worthless sex addict, so she picked a curse that would make you regret every decision you ever made.

“The boat leaves in an hour, so I suggest getting ready to move out,” he said, putting the vials in a small pouch. “I’ve packed some medicine for you. You’re going to feel a lot of the curse’s physical effects, and these can at least alleviate that.”

“Wait, you’re not coming?”

“I can’t,” he said. “I have a business to run and The Dark Lord will probably smite me the moment I get near his palace. You’ll be safe, YN,” he said gently, sitting on the bed next to you. “Captain Jin is a good guy. He won’t take advantage of your mental state like other men might.”

“What if I don’t make it in time?”

“You will. Just follow the directions on the map, and you’ll make it there in no time. Jin’s boat goes straight to the northern port, so you could just go through the little town there until you reach the mountain. Trust me, it won’t be hard to find. It’s pretty big.”

This didn’t make you feel better. As you started changing, you thought about this demon lord. In your head, you saw a massive, hulking figure with big black horns, red skin and sharp fangs. He’d find your predicament funny, no doubt, since he was the curse’s creator. He’d be sitting on some kind of throne, wearing nothing but a pair of pants to show off his bulging muscles, and expect you to “offer yourself” to him.

Perhaps by the time you meet him, you would.

*****

The little port town near Gold Rush sat on the eastern coastline. According to Namjoon, the mountain port was just upwards from there and would take at least a week. You hoped his timeline was correct as you said your farewells and made your way to town in a wagon. As you rode there in silence, fear started filling your stomach and twisting it around. You’d never left home before; you never had a reason. It’s the only place you’ve ever known, and now you are leaving to somewhere foreign and new. What if you didn’t make it to the port? What if the captain did take advantage of you? The thought of being underneath a sweaty, flabby figure made you gag.

However, Captain Kim Seokjin was anything but sweaty or flabby. He was tall with wide shoulders a girl could hang onto in any position; brown hair swooped over his dark eyes, which gave you a friendly glint when you approached.

“You must be YN,” he grinned, coiling rope around his large hands. “Namjoon told me you’d be joining me.”

His boat was a small, rickety thing with a canvas sail and fishing equipment. You guessed you’d be sleeping below, since you didn’t see anywhere else.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I need to get up north, and he said you’d be taking me there?”

“Yup,” he answered, holding out a hand, “Come aboard. I just finished getting stuff ready for our trip.”

As you stepped onto the boat, a loud ‘caw’ caught your attention. A crow sat perched on the cabin in the middle of the boat. Black eyes gazed at you from above, slightly flapping its wings as it moved around. It drew up a memory as you stared back. You’d been underneath Vernon, you think, enjoying his soft lips when you’d looked out the window. There’d been a crow there too. It didn't appear different from any other crow you'd seen, but the longer you looked at the bird, the more ominous it felt. The soothsayers who used to come through town during festival season said that crows were dark omens. Considering your upcoming trip, seeing the bird only worsened your feelings.

“Is he yours?” You asked Jin.

Jin looked up from the side of the boat to see the bird nearby. “Nope,” he answered, though seemed delightfully surprised nonetheless. “Crows aren’t really native to these parts. They’re more up north. You mostly get seagulls around here. Strange,” he dug into a sack nearby and fished out a small portion of sunflower seeds. “Here, buddy,�� he said gently, cautiously putting the seeds down, “Have a snack.”

The bird did not flutter away or snap its beak at him. It only stared, then started pecking at the seeds. “He doesn’t seem…scared?” you said curiously. “Aren’t birds usually fidgety?”

“He might be domesticated,” Jin said, getting inside the cabin. “Now, let’s get going. The waters can get choppy around the northern parts, so we gotta tread carefully.”

You set your bag down by the crow, and watched him eat. From what Namjoon said, you expected to feel the urge to hump everything in sight. You thought you’d be aroused non-stop from the jump. That should’ve been the desired effect, surely. Yet, you felt nothing of the sort. For some reason, that worried you more. The sensation circled you like a shark looking for its prey. The thought taunted you in the back of your mind. You expected it to hit you at any moment.

It did hit you.

As day grew into night, Jin’s boat sailed past the coastline onto open water. He’d let you have the captain’s cabin, which was really just a small cot with a wash basin and dresser. The rocking waves moved the boat side to side, and it cradled you to sleep.

His hands were on you before you could comprehend anything. Soft fingers kneaded the flesh of your thighs, thumbs pressing to the inner sides as they slid to your center. You let out a faint gasp when one digit rubbed along your slit unexpectedly. Opening your eyes, you saw nothing in the cabin’s pitch black darkness. You could only hear his low, steady breaths as he continued feeling up your sex and thighs. He parted your legs easily, settling down on top of you as if you were made of glass. It couldn’t be Jin. This intruder was far slimmer, and his voice sounded higher. You smiled right away.

‘Hongjoong,’ his name fell from your lips in a soft breath.

‘I can’t wait to have you,’ he breathed in your ear, hands going from your thighs to your breasts. ‘To really have you.’

Warm lips caressed your neck, hot breath ghosting over your skin, and you melted. Your body suddenly became hypersensitive to his touch. Every light caress ignited the fires stirring inside your panties. Each kiss and lick brought out mewls that pleased your visitor. A sudden heat flared up around your neck to your cheeks as he kissed down to your chest. You realized then you wore nothing but your underwear. Smooth leather, crisp linen and rough denim brushed against your bare skin, creating a new friction that you needed. Thumbs rubbing over your nipples, soon he used his tongue to tease more cries out of you. No man ever took this much time with you. They always wanted to jump to “the best part”, which was you pleasuring them instead. Hongjoong never did that.

‘The gods really smiled on me when fate led me into that little brothel,’ he said in between soft suckles. ‘I’d never be here otherwise.’

Suddenly, his face was between your thighs and his tongue lashing your bare clit. You never felt anything like it before. His warm, slippery tongue easily circled your hard clit, flicking it until your back arched. He didn’t restrain you, only holding your thighs as you wriggled about on the bed.

‘So delicious,’ he groaned against your slick folds. ‘Exactly as I remember it. I can never get enough of you.’

Your mind spun with pleasure coursing through your body. Your fingers slipped into soft, silky waves and curls as you brought him closer. The lewd slurping sounds of him sucking your juices joined your constant moaning.

‘Hongjoong…’ his name escapes you in a soft sigh.

‘Be a good pet for me, and indulge in your mark. It’ll be worse for you if you don’t.'

“YN! YN, wake up!”

A pair of rough hands shook you awake, and reality broke through your dreams. The slight rocking that had lulled you to sleep had turned more violent. You noticed the porcelain wash basin laid on the floor in pieces, and your overheard lantern swung side to side in every wave. Jin stood above you, fear and panic widening his eyes, and he continued shaking you.

“Wha-what’s happening?” you asked groggily, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“You gotta come help me,” he insisted, tossing your clothes at you. “This storm’s come out of nowhere. It’s bad. It’s…Just, come up and do what I say and we’ll make it out of here. Storms don’t last forever.”

Dressing proved to be difficult as the ship moved to the crashing waves. Through the small window, you saw nothing but the darkness and raindrops pounding the glass. Flashes of lightning were followed by roaring thunder, almost piercing your ears and making you tremble as you pulled on your jacket. Coming outside, Jin gave you a yellow raincoat to shield you from most of the pouring rain. It came down in hard sheets, filling the wooden boat before spilling out through holes in the sides. Boots sliding over wet floors, you followed Jin’s instructions to the letter. You knew nothing about boats, but you understood “pull that rope” and “push that lever”. It was harder than you imagined. The harsh waves and rain made it impossible to see. You couldn’t see anything past the dangling lights of Jin’s boat, the world around you shrouded in darkness. Only the lightning briefly illuminated the dark clouds rolling over you. It was hard to imagine an end to the madness.

“Brace yourself!” Jin called through the loud thunder, “A big one’s coming!”

You didn’t see the wave, but you certainly felt the boat tip upwards at a ninety-degree angle. Gravity pulled you downwards, and you grabbed tightly onto the main mast. A scream escaped you when you realized your feet left the ground and you dangled in the air. The sensation of falling backwards brought out more terror as your body and the boat capsized, plunging you into the icy cold water. Instinct told you to hold onto whatever oxygen you had as the rolling waves tossed you this way and that. You’d die like this. You were going to drown. Your eyes opened, and you sorely wished they hadn’t.

In the darkness of the sea, you saw glowing eyes. Bright gold, they blinked at you from the abyss. You screamed, desperately trying to get away to the surface. The figure swam closer, unbothered by the water as something slimy wrapped around your ankles and dragged you-not down-but sideways. You continued kicking and grasping at the water, your chest caving as your last breath left you. The creature carried you along gently, its tentacle keeping a firm grip but not so much it broke bones. Instinct kicked in once more and your mouth opened. Gallons of water filled your lungs as you soared through the ocean, salt burning your throat and tongue.

Namjoon never said elements might kill you before the curse did.

Though, right before you reached death, the creature flung you out of the water. Your body carried weightless through the air, more rain pelting you, and you crashed right onto something solid. Then, everything went black.

****

A/N: ooof, YN's going to be going on a very interesting journey! Hope you all stick around for the ride!

395 notes · View notes

bearxgyeomie · 4 days ago

Text

Maybe, in another life...

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: Romance, Drama, Angst, Tragedy.

wc: 10,2 k

Warnings: Angst & Emotional Distress, Arranged Marriage, Themes of Love & Loss, Bittersweet Ending.

Summary: "Even if we can’t be together in the end, I’m glad you were part of my life." A love that lasted six years, only to be torn apart by duty and expectations. You and Wooyoung fight against fate, but when love isn’t enough, what’s left?

a/n: This is just a little thing that I wrote a while ago and I just wanted to share it with y'all, I hope you like it!

Next week I will upload a new series so stay tuned!! ♡♡

Permanent Taglist

October, 2019

The classroom buzzed with the usual mix of chatter, laughter, and the occasional clatter of chairs as students settled into their seats. You sat at your desk near the window, absently twirling a pen while gazing outside.

The autumn breeze swayed the golden leaves, and you let your thoughts drift until the scrape of a chair nearby brought you back to the present.

"Hey." A voice interrupted, hesitant yet oddly cheerful.

You turned to see a boy—tall, with tousled hair, a pretty mole under his eye, and a crooked grin that seemed almost too charming for its own good. He was clutching a textbook awkwardly.

"Hey." You replied, raising an eyebrow.

You've seen this guy before, you're in the same class, but being transferred to this school recently, you've never exchanged words with him.

"I think I’m... completely lost." He held up the book, pointing at the open page. "Are we supposed to be on this? Or... this?"

He flipped to another page, looking genuinely perplexed—or maybe just playing it up.

You smirked "The book is upside down."

"Oh," He said, blinking. "Right. I knew that."

"Sure you did," You teased, leaning closer to glance at the book. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Honestly?" He grinned, shrugging one shoulder. "Your phone number or the answers of the exercise, the option you prefer."

"Wow," You said, feigning awe. "You’re either hopeless or a genius in disguise."

"Why not both?" He grinned wider, unashamed.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling "Here, let me help before you embarrass yourself any further."

As you leaned in to guide him through the exercise, you caught a whiff of his cologne—light, citrusy, and unexpectedly nice. He listened—or at least pretended to—but his gaze lingered on you more than the book.

From the first day you arrived his gaze was always on you, your beauty was incomparable.

And he really wanted to try his luck with you.

"I’m Wooyoung, by the way," He said after a moment, sticking out his hand. "Figured I should introduce myself since I’m stealing your time."

"YN," You replied, shaking his hand briefly. "And you’re not stealing anything, just borrowing."

"Borrowing," Wooyoung echoed. "I like that. Borrowing implies I’ll have to return the favor."

"Not unless you manage to pass this class." You shot back with a smirk.

He laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained "Then I’ll just have to stick around you until I do."

✧

January, 2021

The park was alive with color that day—emerald grass stretching far and wide, dotted with vibrant wildflowers and families enjoying the crisp spring air.

You sat cross-legged on the picnic blanket, balancing a sandwich in one hand and fending off Wooyoung’s exaggerated attempts to steal a bite with the other.

“Woo!” You laughed, swatting at his hand. “You have your own!”

“But yours tastes better,” He teased, giving you a playful pout before collapsing dramatically onto the blanket beside you. “Everything you touch turns magical.”

“Oh, please,” You rolled your eyes while smiling. “You’re just lazy.”

“And you’re gorgeous.” He retorted, turning his head to grin up at you.

You threw a grape at him, which he caught in his mouth with impressive ease, earning a soft gasp from a nearby child who’d been watching.

Wooyoung sat up with mock grandeur, raising his arms as if he’d just performed a magic trick.

“Thank you, thank you.”

You shook her head, chuckling “You’re such an idiot.”

“And you love it.” He shot back, nudging your shoulder.

You didn’t deny it.

After your playful antics slowed, Wooyoung suddenly grew quieter. You were unwrapping a slice of cake when you noticed him rummaging through his backpack with an unusual intensity.

“What are you searching for?” You asked, leaning closer.

“Nothing.” He replied, too quickly.

Then, with a triumphant grin, he pulled out a small velvet box.

You froze “... What’s that?”

His grin widened as he opened the box to reveal a delicate silver ring with a blue butterfly at its center. The sunlight caught the gem, making it glimmer like it held a piece of the sky.

“It’s for you.” Wooyoung said simply, his voice softer now.

“Wooyoung…” Your voice caught in your throat as you looked at him.

He took your hand, his fingers warm and slightly trembling.

“YN, I know we’re young, and maybe people think I’m crazy, but I don’t care what anyone says. You’re the one for me. You make me laugh, you make me better, and you make me so damn happy.”

He swallowed, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I don’t need to know everything about the future, but one thing I do know is this. You’re going to be my wife someday.”

Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears “Wooyoung, this is…”

“Say yes,” He cut in, a playful smile returning “Or, you know, at least agree to keep the ring until you’re ready to say yes.”

You laughed through your tears and nodded, slipping the ring onto your finger.

“Yes. Of course, yes.”

Wooyoung whooped, pulling you into a tight hug before peppering your face with kisses, making you laugh even harder.

You spent the rest of the afternoon lying under the shade of a tree, your head on his chest, and your fingers playing with the blue butterfly that now adorned your hand.

✧

July, 2023

The grand living room of Jung’s family home exudes elegance—polished marble floors, an oversized chandelier that sparkled with cold precision, and an air of formality that made Wooyoung feel like he was suffocating.

He sat stiffly on the couch, his parents across from him, their expressions stern.

“We need to talk.” His father said, his deep voice cutting through the silence.

Wooyoung leaned back, crossing his arms “Sounds serious.”

“It is,” His mother replied, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle on her designer dress. “It’s about... YN.”

His posture straightened “What about her?”

His father sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose “Wooyoung, you’re young, and it’s natural to be infatuated at your age, but you need to think about your future.”

“I do think about my future. And YN’s part of it.” He shot back, his tone firm.

His mother’s lips pursed into a thin line “Honey, be reasonable. YN is a sweet girl, but she comes from a humble background. She doesn’t have the status or connections to stand beside someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Wooyoung repeated, incredulous. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m better than her because of money?”

“It’s not about being better,” His father interjected, his voice steady but sharp. “It’s about practicality. Your future wife needs to be someone who can complement your position—someone who understands the demands of our world and has the resources to support it.”

Wooyoung laughed, though there was no humor in it.

“So, it’s not enough that she loves me? That she’s kind and smart and makes me happier than I’ve ever been? You’d rather I marry someone who fits into your idea of a perfect business deal?”

His mother’s eyes softened slightly, but her resolve didn’t waver “We only want what’s best for you.”

“YN is what’s best for me,” His voice raised. “She’s more than a ‘sweet girl.’ She’s hardworking, loyal, and she doesn’t care about all this status nonsense. She loves me for who I am, not for the family name or the money. How many people in your world can say the same?”

His father frowned, but Wooyoung continued before either parent could interrupt.

“I know you don’t approve of her, but I’m not going to let you decide who I love. YN is my choice. And if you can’t accept her, that’s your problem, not mine.”

The room fell silent, tension thick in the air. His mother exchanged a glance with his father, her expression conflicted.

“We’re only trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection,” He replied, standing. “I need you to trust me.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and left the room, his heart pounding. As he stepped outside into the cool evening air, he pulled out his phone and dialed your number.

“Hey, babe.” Your voice came through, light and warm.

“Hey, baby.” He said, his own voice softening. “I just needed to hear you. You’re everything to me, YN.”

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Present

It had been six years since you and Wooyoung began your relationship, six years filled with laughter, love, and the kind of moments that made life brighter.

Wooyoung had always been the cheerful, mischievous boy who could light up any room, and that playful charm was part of what had captured your heart from the start.

Your relationship had its share of ups and downs, but the challenges were never between you. The love you shared was strong, unwavering.

The hard times always came from the outside—specifically, from Wooyoung’s parents.

You still remembered the first time Wooyoung had introduced you to his family. The tension in the air had been impossible to ignore, and the subtle but unmistakable looks of disapproval on Mr. and Mrs. Jung’s faces had spoken volumes.

From the moment you stepped into their lavish home, it was clear they didn’t see you as someone worthy of their son.

The differences between their worlds were undeniable. Wooyoung had grown up in wealth and privilege, surrounded by people who measured worth in status and connections.

You, on the other hand, came from a modest background, where kindness and hard work mattered more than designer labels or family names.

But those differences had never mattered to Wooyoung. He loved you for who you were, your genuine heart, strength, and the way you made him feel like he could be himself.

Unfortunately, his parents didn’t share his perspective.

From the beginning, Mr. and Mrs. Jung had made it clear they disapproved. They insisted Wooyoung needed someone of "equal standing," someone who could match the prestige of their family name.

You, they believed, were too ordinary.

But through it all, Wooyoung had never wavered in his devotion to you. No matter how hard his parents tried to interfere, he stood by your side, determined to show them that love wasn’t about status or wealth.

However; his parents never accepted that love.

“Excuse me, what?!” Wooyoung asks in shock at the words of his parents.

What that fuck did he just hear?

“The youngest daughter of the Lee family, Lee Haneul, will come to dinner, so you can get to know each other.” His father repeats again.

“Not that, what you said before that.” He asks again and the older man rolls his eyes.

“Mr. Lee and I came to the conclusion that it would be great if our families were united, so you would marry his daughter.”

"What?! Why me and not one of my brothers?" Wooyoung comes back to questions exasperated, this has to be a fucking joke.

His mother sighs, touching her templates “Woo, your older brother has a girlfriend and Kyungmin is nine years old.”

“And!? I also have a girlfriend and Kyungmin will grow up someday.”

“Wooyoung, stop complaining and do what we tell you.” His father scolds him.

Wooyoung looks at them in disbelief, and then exclaims an ‘ahh’ nodding, now he understands.

“I see, you're going to force me to marry that girl to get away from YN, right? That’s why you’re asking me and not the eldest son of the family.”

He laughs without desire, he doesn't deny it, it was an excellent move.

“Do you really hate her enough to arrange a fucking marriage for me with a stranger?”

“Wooyoung..” His mother starts but he interrupts her.

“No. I really don't want to hear the same old nonsense. I'm sick of this.”

Without further ado, he turns around to go to the exit, he does not want to see them for the moment. However, before he leaves the door he manages to hear his father's harsh words.

"Dinner is at eight, don't be childish and be punctual, Wooyoung."

Go to hell.

✧

“When are you going to tell her?” San asks, looking at his best friend who's pulling his hair in frustration.

“I don't know, man.”

"Man, I suspected something like this was going to happen." The eldest sighs, patting him on the back in affection. "It always happens in rich families like ours."

“Fuck!” Wooyoung complains like a little boy throwing a tantrum. “Why do these things always have to happen to me?”

“Don't know, Woo. But let's be positive and plan something to avoid that marriage.”

"The only person I'm going to marry is YN... I cannot allow myself to break my promise." He nods to himself and San smiles at his friend's determination.

He knows everything they have been through thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Jung.

"That's right, Woo."

✧

“When are you going to tell him?” Jongho asks out of his amazement.

You laugh at his expression and take the test from his hands to put it away.

"I don't know." You shrug your shoulders with a smile on your lips.

You look at the test again, 'positive-3 weeks' and smile like a fool. You have been feeling sick for several weeks now and your period was not coming, so you decided to take a pregnancy test to confirm your suspicions.

Wooyoung loves children and you're not afraid to tell him, but your in-laws do scare you.

So you need to get psyched up before you say it.

"Uh... Well, don't take long to tell him." Your friend murmurs with a small smile. "I'm sure Wooyoung is going to be very happy."

“I hope so.”

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Wooyoung pushes open the café door, the bell above jingling softly. The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, but it does nothing to calm the tight knot in his stomach.

His eyes scan the room, and there you are, sitting by the window, bathed in golden sunlight. You're scrolling through your phone, your lips curving into a soft smile.

For a moment, Wooyoung just stands there, watching you. He wants to freeze this moment, to block out everything else and just exist here, with you.

You look up and spot him, your face lighting up.

“Hey!” You call, waving him over.

Woo smiles, though it feels strained, and walks to the table. He leans down to kiss your forehead before sliding into the seat across from you.

“You’re late,” You tease, voice playful. “Got caught up planning another prank?”

He forces a chuckle, scratching the back of his neck “Something like that.”

You raise an eyebrow, setting your phone down “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah,” He says too quickly, grabbing the menu even though he already knows what he’s going to order. “Just... a lot on my mind.”

You tilt your head, studying him “Woo, you’re not a good liar. What’s going on?”

He hesitates, his fingers tightening around the edge of the menu “It’s just my parents,” He says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You sigh and reach for your coffee “What is it this time?”

Wooyoung shifts uncomfortably, avoiding your gaze “They’re just... being them, you know? All about expectations and what they think I should do.”

“Is this about us again?”

He shrugs, trying to play it off “It’s always about something.”

“Wooyoung, you don’t have to dance around it. Just tell me what’s bothering you.”

Wooyoung looks down at the table, his thoughts racing. He wants to tell you everything, to unload the frustration and the fear that’s been eating at him. But the words stick in his throat. He can’t bring himself to say it—not yet.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” He forces a smile. “Let’s not talk about them. I’m here with you now, and that’s what matters.”

You study him for a moment, your brow furrowed like you know he’s holding something back. But you don't press since you're also hiding something from him.

“Okay, but if it ever gets to be too much, you know I’m here, right?”

He nods, his chest tightening “Yeah. I know, love.”

For the rest of the date, they keep the conversation light. You talk about your day, avoiding mentioning what you discovered today, instead you tell him about a funny customer you dealt with at work, and Wooyoung listens, laughing in the right places.

But in the back of his mind, the weight of what he hasn’t told you lingers, heavy and unrelenting.

✧

The dining room in the Jung household is as grand as ever—too grand, Wooyoung thinks as he stands outside the door, dreading what’s inside. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow on the elaborate table settings, but all he feels is the weight of the moment.

He checks his watch. Twenty minutes late. Maybe they’ve already started. He sighs and pushes the door open.

“There you are.” His father’s voice cuts through the room like a blade. Mr. Jung’s face hardens as he looks at his son. “You’re late.”

Wooyoung doesn’t apologize. He walks to the table, his steps deliberately slow, and slides into the empty seat across from the girl. She’s dressed to perfection, her posture straight, a composed smile on her face.

“I was busy.” He says simply, reaching for the glass of water in front of him.

His mother narrows her eyes “Busy with what? You knew how important this dinner was.”

Wooyoung takes a deliberate sip of water before answering “I was doing something important with my girlfriend.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Mrs. Jung sets down her fork with a sharp clink, her lips pressed into a thin line “Wooyoung, this is neither the time nor the place for your... antics.”

“It’s the truth.” He says, his tone calm but firm.

Across the table, the girl’s smile tightens. Haneul clears her throat and speaks, her voice smooth and composed.

“I don’t mind waiting, Mrs. Jung. It’s perfectly understandable that Wooyoung might be... distracted.”

Wooyoung’s jaw tightens as he looks at her. She’s playing along, but there’s a spark in her eyes that unnerves him—a determination that feels more like a challenge.

“Haneul, I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle of this,” He says, his tone clipped. “I’m sure you didn’t ask for this any more than I did.”

The girl tilts her head, her smile never wavering “Actually, I think this arrangement makes perfect sense. Our families share the same values, and I think we’d make an excellent team.”

Wooyoung stiffens “Team?”

“Yes, marriage isn’t just about feelings, Wooyoung. It’s about partnership, legacy, and building something meaningful. I understand that your... current relationship feels important to you, but sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the greater good.”

His hands ball into fists under the table “My girlfriend isn’t a ‘sacrifice.’ She’s the woman I love.”

“And love,” His father interjects sharply. “Doesn’t pay the bills or secure the future.”

“It’s not just about love,” She says, her gaze locking with Wooyoung’s. “It’s about compatibility and understanding. And I understand you, Wooyoung. Probably better than she ever could.”

He stares at her, anger flaring in his chest “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough to see that you’re capable of so much more than throwing away your future for... temporary feelings,” Haneul replies, her tone still calm but with an edge of steel.

“That’s enough, both of you,” Mrs. Jung says, her voice sharp. “Wooyoung, you will stop this nonsense and start acting like an adult. This dinner is about securing your future, not indulging your childish fantasies.”

Wooyoung pushes his chair back, the screech of wood against tile echoing in the room “If acting like an adult means giving up YN, then I’d rather be a child.” He stands, his gaze sweeping over his parents and Haneul. “I’m done here.”

As he turns to leave, Haneul’s voice follows him, calm but resolute.

“I’m not giving up on this, Wooyoung. You might think you have a choice, but in the end, you’ll see that I’m right.”

Wooyoung doesn’t look back. He storms out of the dining room, his heart pounding. As he heads up the stairs, the weight of their words presses down on him, but the thought of you—your smile, your laugh—gives him the strength to keep walking.

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

The restaurant is luxurious, the kind of place where the waitstaff move silently and the air smells faintly of roses and fresh linen.

Wooyoung sits stiffly at the table, his arms crossed over his chest as he glares at the untouched plate in front of him.

Across from him, Haneul sits poised, her chin held high, and a faint smile on her lips. She doesn’t seem bothered by his obvious disdain.

“This was unnecessary,” He mutters, breaking the silence. “Your parents didn’t have to set this up.”

Haneul raises an eyebrow, taking a sip from her glass of wine “They’re just being considerate. They wanted us to have a chance to talk—properly.”

“We don’t need to talk. There’s nothing to say.”

Haneul sets her glass down with deliberate care, her eyes locking on his.

“Oh, there’s plenty to say. You just don’t want to hear it.”

He scoffs, leaning back in his chair “What is there to say, Haneul? That I’m supposed to marry you because our parents think it’s a good idea? That I’m supposed to just forget about YN and pretend like this is normal?”

Haneul’s smile doesn’t falter, but her tone sharpens “This isn’t about pretending, Wooyoung. It’s about reality. You can’t run from it forever.”

“I’m not running,” He snaps, his voice rising. “I’m fighting for the life I want, not the one you and our parents are trying to force on me.”

“And what life is that?” Haneul challenges, leaning forward slightly. “A life with a girl who doesn’t understand what it means to be part of this world? Do you even realize what you’re giving up?”

Wooyoung glares at her, his hands clenching into fists on the table “What I’m giving up? I’d rather give up this fake, suffocating life than my girlfriend.”

Haneul lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. “You’re so naive, Wooyoung. You think love is enough? It’s not. Not in our world. You’re clinging to a fantasy while everyone else is dealing with reality.”

“I’d rather have a fantasy with my girlfriend than a fucking reality with you.” He bites back.

Haneul’s eyes flash, and for the first time, her calm facade cracks “You’re acting like a child. You think you can just stomp your feet and get your way? Grow up, Wooyoung.”

“I don’t need a lecture from you.”

“No, you need someone to remind you what’s at stake,” Haneul snaps, her voice rising. “You think this is about me wanting to marry you because of some stupid crush? This is about our families, our futures, and everything we’ve worked for. I’m not like you, Wooyoung—I think about the big picture. And whether you like it or not, I’m going to marry you. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

He stares at her, his anger flaring again “You don’t get it, do you? No matter what you or my parents do, you’ll never have my heart. It belongs to YN, and it always will.”

Haneul leans back in her chair, her expression composed once more “I don’t need your heart, Wooyoung. I need your name. And trust me, I’ll get it.”

The waiter approaches, awkwardly placing the next course on the table as the tension simmers between them.

Wooyoung doesn’t touch his food. Instead, he grabs his jacket and stands abruptly.

“This dinner’s over.”

“Walk away if you want,” Haneul says calmly, her voice following him as he storms out. “But you don’t have a choice.”

Wooyoung doesn’t respond. The heavy door of the restaurant closes behind him, but her words echo in his mind, sharp and unyielding.

✧

Wooyoung stands in the doorway, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, his posture tense. You notice the slight sadness in his eyes before he even says anything.

The moment you speak, your voice soft and full of concern, you see it—the vulnerability he’s trying to hide.

“Babe?” You say again, stepping closer. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He just steps forward, closing the distance between you, and pulls you into a tight embrace. His head rests against your shoulder, and he lets out a slow breath, his hands trembling slightly as they wrap around you.

Your heart races, sensing something’s wrong. You pull back just enough to look into his eyes, trying to read him.

“Woo, what’s going on?”

He shakes his head slightly, as if fighting off whatever emotions are rising within him.

“I’m fine.” He mutters, though the words don’t quite match the storm brewing inside him.

“Don’t lie to me,” Your hand reaches up to brush a lock of hair from his face. “I can tell something’s wrong. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

He stares at you, struggling. There’s so much he wants to say, but the words don’t come. His heart aches at the thought of losing you, but the reality of his parents’ pressure crushes down on him.

The arrangement, the future—he doesn’t want to drag you into it. He wants to protect you from the mess he’s in.

After a long pause, he speaks again, his voice quiet, almost inaudible “It’s just... everything feels so overwhelming.”

He swallows hard, trying to push down the fear that rises in his chest.

“I don’t want to burden you with it, love. I’ll fix it.”

You gently place your hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing the lines of his jaw.

“You don’t have to fix everything on your own. You can talk to me, you know that, right?”

He nods, but the weight of the situation makes him hesitate. If he tells you now, it will make everything real—and he’s not ready for that.

Not yet.

“I’ll handle it, love,” He pulls you close again. “I’ll fix it, I swear.”

You don't push any further, but the concern doesn’t leave your eyes “I’m here, Woo. Whenever you’re ready to talk.”

Wooyoung takes a deep breath, holding you tightly “I know, love.”

But deep down, he isn’t sure if he can ever truly solve this on his own. The thought of losing you to the weight of his family’s expectations makes his chest ache, but he’s not ready to face that reality—not yet.

After a moment you sit in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the hum of the city outside and the soft beat of their hearts. Eventually, you shift to face him, your legs tucked beneath you as you gazes at him with a smile.

“Wanna just forget about everything tonight?” You ask, voice playful yet tender. “Let’s just be us, no stress, no worries.”

Wooyoung’s heart feels lighter at the suggestion. He nods, pulling you into his arms as you cuddle close. Your warmth envelops him, and for a fleeting moment, he forgets about the weight of his responsibilities, the future that looms over him.

He holds you close, his fingers running through your hair as you share a peaceful silence. You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips—slow, lingering, and full of everything unspoken between you. When you pull back, you rest your forehead against his.

“Everything will be okay, Wooyoung,” You whisper, as if trying to reassure him, even though you don't know exactly what’s bothering him. “I believe in us.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, savoring your words, the feeling of you in his arms. Your love is his anchor in a sea of uncertainty.

And though the storm is coming, tonight, in this moment, he lets himself believe that maybe, just maybe, you can weather it together.

For now, it’s enough.

You spend the rest of the evening in the quiet intimacy of each other’s presence, no words needed, just the warmth of your shared space.

The night stretches on lazily as you eventually fall asleep in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten.

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

“What?” Wooyoung asks, his voice trembling slightly, the shock settling in.

He stands frozen, his heart pounding against his chest. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. His parents exchange a look, and then his father speaks, his tone cold and stern.

"As you heard, my son, the wedding will be held next week. The preparations have already begun."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His mind races, and his stomach churns.

This cannot be true!

“Next week?” He repeats, his voice faltering.

The room feels like it’s closing in on him. His mother’s attempt to soothe him only makes it worse.

“I’m sorry for this, dear,” She says, her voice laced with what might be pity or disappointment. “But you have to settle down, and you have to leave YN behind. You have to put the Jung surname up.”

Each word feels like a knife twisting deeper into him. His mind is screaming,

No. I won’t let this happen.

But the words don’t come out. Instead, what comes out is pure fury “This is bullshit, fuck this stupidity.”

His fists clench at his sides, nails digging into his palms. He’s not going to stand here and take it, he won’t.

Without another word, he turns on his heel and heads for the door. He can hear his parents calling after him—his father’s voice sharp, his mother’s desperate.

But Wooyoung doesn’t care. He doesn’t even pause.

What he needs right now is to be in YN’s arms, to feel her warmth and her safety. She’s the only thing that matters right now. He can’t think about anything else.

But as he opens the front door, the last thing he expects is to find the Lee family standing there. Haneul is at the center, her triumphant smile enough to make Wooyoung’s blood boil.

“Hello, Wooyoung. Can we come in?”

Mrs. Lee asks, her voice sweet, but there’s a certain coldness to it that grates on his nerves. She’s not just being polite. She knows exactly what she’s doing. Haneul steps forward, the smugness in her expression making his stomach twist.

“We have things to talk about, Jung Wooyoung.”

At the sound of his full name, his temper spikes. He feels the weight of the world pressing down on him as if this whole situation has finally reached its breaking point.

Without thinking, Wooyoung closes his eyes for a moment and lets out a frustrated sigh.

Fuck.

The door looms in front of him like a barrier between his old life and the life he doesn’t want. He feels trapped—trapped in his family’s expectations, trapped by the weight of an arranged marriage, trapped by the smug smiles of the Lee family.

His thoughts are a blur, and the last thing he wants to do right now is talk to them. But with his parents behind him, there’s no way out.

The door opens wider, and he steps aside reluctantly, trying his best to mask his fury.

“Fine,” He mutters under his breath. “Come in.”

He knows there’s no escaping this. Not yet. Not until he figures out how to fight for YN.

As the Lee family steps inside, the air seems to thicken with the tension Wooyoung is trying desperately to ignore. Mrs. Lee is all smiles, her voice smooth and charming as she talks to his parents about the wedding plans.

“We were thinking about having the wedding at the Ritz,” Mrs. Lee says, adjusting her coat, as if the decision is already final. “A grand affair, of course. We’ll invite about two hundred guests, and the menu—oh, it will be exquisite! We’ve already spoken to the chef.”

Wooyoung’s father nods in agreement, his face a mask of satisfaction “Yes, we need it to be a perfect event. It’ll be the talk of the city.”

Mrs. Lee smiles approvingly, and then her attention shifts to Wooyoung, who’s standing near the door, doing everything he can to keep his emotions in check.

His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, but the moment his eyes meet hers, she doesn’t miss the subtle challenge in his gaze.

"Don’t worry, Wooyoung,” She says, as if reading his thoughts. “Everything is being taken care of. You don’t have to worry about the details. All you need to do is show up.”

Wooyoung feels like he might suffocate. He’s already exhausted, mentally and emotionally, and now they’re talking about food and guests as though he’s not even in the room.

It’s as if his thoughts, his feelings, don’t matter.

“Cake!” Mrs. Lee suddenly exclaims, her eyes lighting up as she looks to his mother. “We’re thinking of a three-tiered design—something elegant and modern, don’t you think? Something with a champagne flavor and gold accents. We can’t have anything too gaudy, of course.”

His mother smiles, nodding along “I agree, it should be sophisticated, but not too much. Let’s stick with the classics.”

Wooyoung wants to scream. He’s about to lose it. The details are endless, the food, the cake, the guest list. He wants to break free of it all, but he can’t move. He feels like he’s in a cage. The tension in his chest is unbearable.

“They’ll talk about this wedding for years,” His father adds, his tone satisfied. “It’ll set the standard for all future weddings in high society.”

Wooyoung’s stomach turns. It’s just a show, a way for them to solidify their power.

And through it all, he can’t stop thinking about YN. He was supposed to be with her today, to forget all of this, even if just for a moment. They’d planned a quiet dinner together, a small escape from the reality that was pressing down on him.

But now, thanks to the sudden appearance of the Lee family, he can’t keep that promise. He’d texted YN earlier, but now he knows she’ll be waiting for him, wondering where he is. He can already hear her voice in his head, filled with concern.

His grip tightens on the back of a chair, and he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. I’ll make it up to her, he promises silently, but the thought of his family’s expectations gnaws at him.

“We’ve decided on a date, too,” Mr. Lee says, taking a seat at the table, looking over at Wooyoung with an almost predatory grin.

“The wedding will be next Saturday. The dress fittings for Haneul have already begun. We’ve already chosen the designers, and they’re perfect for our family’s image.”

Haneul, sitting primly next to her parents, looks at him, a soft smile playing on her lips as if she knows exactly how he’s feeling. She’s enjoying this.

Wooyoung feels his patience slipping away, his vision blurring at the edges. This is a nightmare. He’s being suffocated by expectations, and there’s no way out. His thoughts spiral, and the only thing that keeps him from losing it is the thought of YN, waiting for him.

“You’ve been so quiet, Wooyoung,” Mrs. Lee says, noticing his silence. “Is everything alright? You look a bit… tense.”

No shit, Wooyoung thinks bitterly, but he forces a smile.

“I’m fine. Just… a lot on my mind.”

The tension in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Haneul’s eyes narrow slightly, but she hides it behind another smile.

“Well, everything will be fine once the wedding’s over,” She says, her voice sugary sweet. “We’ll be a perfect match, Wooyoung.”

The words feel like a slap to his face, but he says nothing. He can’t. All he can do is sit there, listening to them drone on about flowers, seating arrangements, and the best caterers in town.

Each word is like another heavy weight pressing down on him.

And all Wooyoung wants to do is escape.

God, YN, I’m so sorry.

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

You sit at your usual spot—a quiet little café tucked away in a street filled with warm lights and the hum of life passing by.

The place held years of memories, whispers of love exchanged over cups of coffee, stolen kisses between bites of cake, and laughter that once felt endless.

You have arrived early, excitement bubbling in your chest. You want to see him, to hold him, to forget about the world outside and just exist in the bubble you had created for yourselves.

But as the minutes pass, that excitement slowly turns into unease. Your fingers tap anxiously against the ceramic cup in front of you.

You glance at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time.

No messages. No missed calls. Nothing.

Your heart sinks. Wooyoung wasn’t the type to be late—at least, not without telling you. You try to shake off the creeping feeling in your chest, trying to reason with yourself.

Maybe he got held up at home. Maybe he lost track of time. Maybe—

No.

Deep down, you know something is wrong.

You force yourself to stay, clinging to hope. With every person that walks through the door, your heart leaps, only to plummet when it isn't him.

The sounds of laughter and conversation around you blurs, drowned out by the pounding of your heart.

You stare out the window, watching as cars pass by, as couples walk hand in hand, lost in their own little worlds.

More time passes. Too much time.

You swallow hard, trying to fight back the sting of tears. It isn’t just about tonight—it’s everything. The way Wooyoung has seemed distant lately, the way his voice wavered when you spoke, the baby…

You had felt it, the weight of something unspoken pressing between you two.

And now, it’s suffocating you.

Maybe San knows where he is, maybe San could tell you what is going on with your boyfriend… yeah, maybe you should go to his apartment and ask him.

Yeah, it's a good idea.

You put some cash on the table to pay and immediately you grab your stuff, you need to talk with San.

—

"Hey, YN! What brings you here?" San asks when he opens the door to his apartment.

It's after eight o'clock at night, and it seems a little strange that you're here.

With an embarrassed smile, you greet him "Hi, Sannie. By any chance Wooyoung is with you? Since yesterday he has not answered my messages and calls."

The best thing you could think of was to go to his best friend's house to ask about him.

"He's been behaving strangely for days, I notice he's worried about something, do you know what's wrong with him?" You ask in the hope that San will tell you something.

San scratches his head in frustration, damn it Wooyoung. How is he supposed to tell his best friend's girlfriend that Woo has been like this because he's getting married in a week?

"Sorry YN, but I'm not the one to tell you that." He says with pity. "How about you go to his house?"

You press your lips with a grimace, you don't think that's the best idea if his parents are there.

"Okay, Sannie. Thank you."

San only offers you a light smile but his chest aches because of your pitiful situation.

✧

The days without hearing from Woo have stretched into a painful silence. Each time you check your phone, there’s nothing.

Your messages and calls go unanswered, and it feels like he’s slipping further and further away.

You can’t stand this distance, not when you have no idea why he’s shutting you out. You know something’s wrong. You can feel it in the way he’s been avoiding you, like he's carrying a burden he doesn’t want to share with you.

And every second without him feels like a quiet ache, a hollow space inside you that won’t go away.

You try calling San today, but his words only leave you more confused.

“Sorry, YN, but I’m not the one to tell you that.” His pitying look is enough to tell you he knows more than he’s letting on.

What the fuck is going on?

Desperate for answers, you decide to track Wooyoung down yourself. At the last minute, he finally texts you.

Woo♡: Meet me at the cafe. We need to talk.

Your heart leaps in your chest as you immediately prepare to go. This is your chance to finally speak to him, to understand what’s been going on.

But when you pick up the small box you’ve prepared—a simple gift, a pregnancy test wrapped in a soft baby cloth, you hesitate.

You’ve known for a few weeks now, and you feel the weight of the secret pressing down on you. But you’re not sure if this is the right time to tell him.

The uncertainty only makes the situation worse.

You get to the cafe early, waiting in the corner of the room. The familiar warmth of the place does little to settle your nerves. Every passing minute feels like an eternity.

You want to hold on to the hope that this meeting will clear things up, that Wooyoung will finally explain everything.

When he walks in, you almost don’t recognize him. There’s a tiredness in his eyes that you haven’t seen before. His usual confident stride is slower, more burdened, and the weight of whatever he’s been dealing with is clear on his face.

When he sees you, he gives you a small, almost apologetic smile.

“Love…” He calls you like it’s a question, like he’s unsure of what to say next.

You smile back, trying to keep things light, but your stomach is twisting with anxiety.

“Woo, it’s good to see you,” You say softly, your voice catching a little.

He sits down across from you, running a hand through his hair, clearly restless. There’s something different about him today, something that feels... off.

“You’ve been acting strange lately,” You start, trying to get him to open up. “You haven’t been answering my calls or texts. I was worried.”

He winces, like your words are a physical blow “I know. I’m sorry, baby. It’s just... I’ve been dealing with some stuff. And I didn’t know how to explain it to you.”

The tension in the air thickens as he looks away, staring at his hands. You want to reach out and hold him, but something is stopping you—something that makes you afraid of what he might say next.

“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” You try to keep your voice steady, but it shakes with the fear that you’re about to lose him.

He looks up at you then, his gaze meeting yours for the first time. His eyes are filled with guilt, regret, and something else—something you can’t quite place.

“YN, there’s something I need to tell you…”

You feel your heart race. Me too.

“I—I’ve been forced into an arranged marriage,” he finally says, his words coming out in a rush, like he’s afraid to say them. “My parents, they’ve been making all these plans behind my back... and now it’s happening. In two days.”

The world seems to stop as his words sink in. An arranged marriage? Your mind goes blank for a moment, unable to process what he’s just told you. The shock of it all hits you like a wave, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

“W-what?” You manage to whisper.

The shock of his words still lingers in the air, leaving a heavy silence between you. Your heart feels like it’s breaking into pieces, but you fight to keep your composure, not wanting to overwhelm him more than he already is.

You’ve always been there for Wooyoung, in all the highs and lows, but this... this feels like a crushing blow that you didn’t expect.

The man you love is about to marry someone else, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

But something else is weighing on you, too, something you’ve kept hidden in the hopes that the right moment would come. And now, as he stares at you with those heartbroken eyes, you feel the weight of the little secret you’ve been carrying.

The box with the pregnancy test rests in your bag, and for a brief moment, you wonder if it’s the right time to tell him. You can’t shake the thought that it’s not.

Not now. Not when his world is falling apart.

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the way your stomach churns with uncertainty. Should I tell him?

You draw in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Woo... I know this is hard for you,” You whisper, your voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the café. “But you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here for you.”

His eyes flicker with gratitude, but there’s a weight behind them that speaks volumes. He’s trying so hard to hold it together, but you can see the cracks.

You want to reach in and fix everything for him, to take away all the pain, but you know that you can’t.

For a moment, you think about your pregnancy, the little life inside you. You want to tell him. You want him to know that there’s more to your relationship than just the heartbreak, that there’s hope, even in the darkness.

But you hesitate. How can I tell him this now?

You look at him, his eyes searching yours, waiting for you to say something, to offer him the comfort he needs. And you feel your heart ache even more.

“Love, I don’t know what to do anymore,” He admits, his voice cracking as he looks down at his hands. “I feel like I’m losing everything... and I don’t want to lose you too. But I don’t have a choice. I have to do this. I have to marry that girl.”

I’m losing you too, Woo.

The thought lingers in your mind, but you swallow it down. Instead, you say the only thing you can think of.

“If this is something you have to do, then I’ll support you. I just want you to be happy.” You force a smile, but it feels fragile, like it might shatter any second.

He smiles weakly back, his eyes filled with a sadness that seems too much for him to carry. And in that moment, you wonder if he knows what you’re holding back, what you’ve been keeping to yourself.

“I don’t want this, I never wanted this. I want you. But now…” He shakes his head, unable to finish the thought.

You hesitate again, glancing down at your bag where the pregnancy test rests. You wonder if it’s better to just tell him now, to let him know the truth.

But what if it’s too much for him? What if it makes things worse?

You take a deep breath, your fingers trembling as they move to the edge of the bag. For a moment, you just hold it there, unsure of what to do. You could pull it out. You could tell him everything.

But the fear of pushing him away, of making things harder for him than they already are, holds you back.

“I love you, Wooyoung,” You whisper instead, your voice filled with the weight of everything unsaid. “No matter what happens, I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“I love you, too.”

You watch his eyes soften, the weight of your words sinking in. For a moment, it feels like the world around you disappears, and there’s just the two of you. But in the back of your mind, you know the truth:

You’re not just here for him now, you’re here for something bigger than this, something you can’t ignore for much longer.

But for now, you let the silence settle between you. You let the moment stretch out, knowing that there will be another time, another moment when you can share your secret.

Because right now, it doesn’t feel like the right moment.

Right now, he needs your love, your support, and your strength more than ever. And if you tell him, you’re not sure if he’ll be able to handle both the weight of his family’s expectations and the weight of the future you’re both trying to build.

You squeeze his hand, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you. There’s no easy way to fix this. But for now, you’ll support him the only way you can.

By being there.

The air between you is thick with unspoken words, heavy with the weight of everything you both know but refuse to say. The quiet hum of the café surrounds you, but in this moment, it feels like you and Wooyoung exist in your own world—a world on the verge of breaking.

His hand is still in yours, warm but trembling slightly, as if he’s afraid to let go.

“Let’s go,” He says softly. “Just for tonight.”

You nod because you know exactly what he means.

Just for tonight, you want to forget the world outside. Forget the expectations, the heartbreak, the inevitable goodbye that lingers just out of reach.

Just for tonight, you want to pretend that nothing is changing.

The walk back to your apartment is quiet, but Wooyoung never lets go of your hand. His grip is tight, as if holding onto you will somehow stop time, as if it will keep you from slipping away.

When you step inside, the warmth of your home wraps around you, but it doesn’t offer the comfort it usually does. The atmosphere is different—charged, desperate. He stands in the middle of the room, looking around like he’s trying to memorize every detail, as if this will be the last time he ever gets to see it.

You swallow hard and step closer, resting a hand on his chest “Wooyoung…”

He closes his eyes, inhaling sharply at your touch, before his arms wrap around you, pulling you against him.

“I don’t want to leave you,” He murmurs into your hair.

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall “Then don’t.”

His hold tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. You both know the answer.

This is the end.

But if this is your last night together, you don’t want to spend it crying. You don’t want it to be filled with sorrow and regret.

You want to remember this—him—as the boy you’ve loved for six years.

So you reach up, your fingers gently tracing along his jaw, tilting his face toward yours. His eyes are heavy with emotion, dark and unreadable.

And then, without another word, you press your lips to his.

The kiss is slow at first, hesitant, as if you’re both afraid of what comes next. But then Wooyoung’s hands slide into your hair, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss with a desperation that makes your knees weak.

He kisses you like he’s trying to imprint the memory of you into his very soul, like he’s trying to hold onto every second before it slips away.

Your hands clutch at his shirt, grounding yourself in the warmth of him, in the familiarity of his touch. His lips move against yours with a kind of ache, like a silent plea—don’t forget me.

You pull him with you toward the bedroom, and he follows without hesitation.

The night unfolds slowly, gently. There’s no rush, no urgency—only whispered touches, lingering kisses, hands exploring like they’re memorizing every curve, every scar, every breath. He moves as if he’s worshipping you, as if he’s trying to carve the memory of you into his heart.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and you whisper his back just as reverently.

In that moment, there are no arranged marriages, no forced goodbyes, no broken promises. There is only you and Wooyoung, tangled together beneath the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the window.

And when it’s over, when his breathing evens out and his fingers remain laced with yours, you feel it—the quiet heartbreak settling between you.

You turn onto your side, tracing the outline of his face as he lies next to you. His eyes flutter open, and he smiles, but it’s the saddest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Promise me,” He whispers, voice hoarse from exhaustion and emotion.

You blink, brushing his hair from his forehead “Promise you what?”

“That you’ll be happy,” He says, squeezing your hand. “Even if I’m not there.”

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to nod “Only if you promise the same.”

He hesitates, then leans in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead “I promise.”

Neither of you sleep much that night.

Because when morning comes, Wooyoung will leave.

And for the first time in six years, you won’t be waiting for him to come back.

⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

The ceremony is a blur.

It’s like Wooyoung is watching someone else’s life unfold before him, the soft chatter of the guests, the click of cameras, the music playing in the background, and Haneul, standing next to him in her beautiful dress.

But it’s not her he’s thinking about. It’s not the guests or the vows being exchanged. It’s you.

Always you.

He stares at Haneul, but his mind is elsewhere, far away, with the girl he has loved for six years. His heart aches in ways he can’t even describe.

Why? Why does it have to be like this?

Wooyoung can’t stop the thoughts swirling in his head—He never wanted this. He never wanted to hurt you. But here he is, in a room full of people, marrying someone else.

He thinks back to all the times you shared, all the quiet moments with you. The way you would smile at him like he was your whole world, the way you made him feel like everything was going to be okay, no matter what.

You had this way of making life feel simple, even when everything around him was so complicated.

But now... now he’s standing there, saying vows to another woman. Vows he promised he would never say to anyone but you. And Wooyoung knows it’s not just the pressure from his parents that makes him do this.

It’s because he feels like he has no choice.

It’s because he’s been taught that family, tradition, and status are more important than love.

As the ceremony continues, his eyes flicker to the door, half-expecting you to come rushing in, to call everything off.

Wooyoung knows you won’t. He knows you can’t. You’re too strong for that. But a part of him wishes, desperately, that you would.

Finally, the ceremony ends, and Wooyoung can hear the soft murmur of the guests as they begin to congratulate them. He shakes hands, forces a smile, and takes Haneul’s hand, though it feels foreign to him. They walk together, but it feels like he’s walking away from the only life he’s ever wanted.

A life with you, and only you.

The reception is just as hollow. There’s no joy in Wooyoung’s chest, no happiness in his smile, only emptiness. He feels like a ghost moving through the motions, pretending to enjoy the laughter and the music.

But inside, He is screaming for the one person who’s not here.

Love, I’m so sorry.

Suddenly, San approaches him. He’s holding something in his hands—a small box. He gives him a look that says everything Wooyoung needs to know.

San knows. San knows how his best friend feels, and maybe he knows the cost of this marriage—the one he didn’t want, but couldn’t stop.

San doesn’t say anything at first, just presses the box into Wooyoung’s hands with a heavy sigh. Wooyoung hesitates for a moment, wondering what this could be, but his fingers shake as he opens it.

Inside is a pregnancy test. A small, clear message that shatters his heart completely.

Six weeks...

Tears sting Wooyoung’s eyes as he pulls out a letter. Your handwriting, your words. His chest tightens, and sits down at a small table, alone, as the world continues to swirl around him.

Wooyoung unfolds the letter slowly, reading your final words.

“Woo,

I know this is hard. I know you’re not in control of all this. I’ve watched you struggle, and I know you’ve had to make impossible choices. I want you to know that I’m not angry. I’m not upset. I just want you to be happy. I’ll always love you, no matter what.

Even if we can’t be together in the end, I’m glad you were part of my life.

I will love you till the end.”

Wooyoung feels like the ground is slipping from beneath him. His heart cracks, pieces of it falling away, and he tries to hold them together, but it’s impossible.

You knew. You knew he couldn’t be with you.

You knew he was trapped.

The letter falls from his hands, and he reaches for the test again, mind reeling. She’s pregnant. And he never gave you the chance to tell him.

He left you behind.

Wooyoung closes his eyes and remembers everything—your laugh, your smile, the way you would hold him when everything felt like it was falling apart.

And now you’re gone.

You had chosen to let him go, to let him live the life he was forced into, and he can’t even tell you that he’s sorry.

He can’t even tell you that, despite everything, he has never stopped loving you.

Wooyoung grips the pregnancy test in his trembling hands, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The sounds of the wedding reception around him fade into nothing—distant laughter, the clinking of glasses, the hum of conversation—all of it turns into static in his ears.

YN is pregnant.

His YN.

A sharp pang shoots through his chest, a feeling so unbearable that for a moment, he forgets to breathe. His fingers tighten around the letter as if by holding onto it, he can hold onto you, but the truth is suffocating.

You let him go.

You walked away, and he let it happen.

The weight of it crashes down on him all at once, and suddenly, nothing else matters—not the extravagant hall filled with hundreds of guests, not the whispers of their families, not even the woman standing beside him.

All he can think about is you, sitting alone somewhere, carrying his child, believing that he chose this life over you.

His feet move before his mind can catch up.

He turns, pushing past the guests, the chairs, the decorated floral archways. He needs to find her. He needs to fix this.

"Wooyoung?" Haneul’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and knowing.

His steps falter, but he doesn’t stop.

“Where are you going?” She demands, and when he doesn’t answer, her hand grips his wrist, holding him back.

“Let me go,” He breathes, barely containing the storm raging inside him.

She doesn’t. Instead, her fingers tighten, her expression unreadable “Don’t make a scene.”

“A scene?” He lets out a bitter laugh, chest rising and falling erratically. “You think I care about that right now?”

Haneul’s gaze flickers to the small box still clutched in his other hand. Understanding dawns in her eyes, and for a second, something like sympathy flashes across her face.

But then it’s gone, replaced by cold calculation.

“You can’t leave,” She says, her voice eerily calm. “Not now.”

“I have to—”

“No, you don’t.”

He yanks his arm back, but her grip is stronger than he expects.

“Think,” She hisses, stepping closer, lowering her voice so only he can hear.

“You walk out of here, and you lose everything. Your family. Your name. Your future. And what will you do then? Run to her? Do you really think you can give her what she needs?”

His jaw clenches “I can try.”

Haneul lets out a slow breath, her expression tightening “It’s too late, Wooyoung. You’re tied to me now.”

Those words feel like a blade to his chest.

Too late.

No.

It can’t be.

But deep down, he knows she’s right.

His hands shake as he looks down at the letter one more time. The words blur together, but he can still see the last line clearly.

"Even if we can’t be together in the end, I’m glad you were part of my life."

His breath shudders.

You meant it as a goodbye.

You have made your choice.

And now, standing in the middle of a life he never wanted, Wooyoung is forced to make his.

The ache in his chest is unbearable as he slowly closes the box, tucking it away inside his jacket. He swallows back the scream threatening to claw its way out of him and lifts his head, meeting Haneul’s gaze with hollow eyes.

His fingers unclench. His posture straightens.

And just like that, Jung Wooyoung—the boy who once dreamed of love, of happiness, of a life with you—ceases to exist.

°⭒˚｡⋆⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

Taglist: @domfikeluva @hurryupmars @a-tiny-thing @silenttrxxs @innocygnet @alliecoady98 @posseup @yothangie @a-atiny_niawoo @justconniez @niaee @0407files @maidens-world @zaynsfl4m3s @maplelilly05 @xh01bri @sannieily @nkryuki @lemonkait00 @khaskl08 @badbitch69420sworld @jilxxasu @vnxlla @lezleeferguson-120 @lunaryoongie @stayatinykatsy @milliesupremexx @unbroken-shadows @itzyejiluv @nyx-y @lover-ofallthingspretty @queenofdumbfuckery @johaeyeon @xopierrot @m0onchild-98

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bearxgyeomie · 4 days ago

Text

Tell Me No

Pairing: professor!Yunho x f reader

Genre: smut, dark academia vibes

Word count: 6.3k

Summary: You'd always been a picture perfect college student. So when Professor Jeong gives you a grade that threatens your flawless track-record, you'll do just about anything to raise it.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, age gap not specified but it's obviously there, reader wants him bad but is kinda in denial, dry humping, heavy petting, lots of praise

A/n: Professor Yunho always hits, I've seen so many fics on here that I've loved but I just had to make my own. I hope y'all enjoy <3

Read it on ao3

Professor Jeong was remarkably smart, remarkably tall, and remarkably well-liked. There wasn't a thing he could do, it seemed, to upset anyone. His third year as faculty, he was already surpassing all expectations the Dean and Vice President had set. It was a revelation: all his students absolutely adored him, every single one. All, except for you.

It was late fall, and the weather was starting to turn. Leaves were falling in clouds of red and yellow, and the air was crisp in the mornings. The entire week the sky was overcast, not a ray of sunshine to remind you of the warm season just past. It felt gloomy, calm, and focused on campus, and it should have been the perfect start to your favorite time of year.

It should have been. But as you sat in your Contemporary Literature class and read over the marks on your most recent paper, you felt nothing but rage.

63%. That's what he'd given you. That, and a slew of notes in red ink along every margin, telling you just how poorly you'd screwed this whole thing up. You didn't much care for contemporary books, that was the worst part; this was a class you were required to take as a part of your literature degree, and one you'd dreaded taking, no matter how many raving reviews you'd heard about the professor. It was an added slap in the face that he was so damn harsh with grading, when you really couldn't give a fuck about the books you'd been assigned to read.

It only took a week of class before you understood. His good looks, his sense of humor, his easy and flirtatious nature, those were the things that made every student love him. Class itself was a slog, but you'd been expecting that at least, and made it through your first two papers with decent grades. Only three papers and a final exam were graded in his class, and you panicked every time you hit submit, not knowing if you'd be able to pass with at least a 70% and get your much needed credits. But so far it had been fine; you'd never needed to ask him much, never seen a reason to visit office hours. You had no desire to talk to this good-looking professor, even if your mind wandered in his class. It was all too easy to picture him in all his naked glory, but a part of you knew your dreams must be too good to be true, and you'd hate to have the illusion shattered.

It wasn't out of character for you to crush on a teacher. And it wasn't that you hated him. But what good was a hot professor if he was going to fuck up all your plans?

"Hey, did he screw you too?" a voice behind you asks. You didn't bother turning around, knowing the aggravating man it had come from and exactly the conversation he was hoping for.

"Yes, obviously," you answer. Professor Jeong's a fucking asshole, you add to yourself. Dad's gonna fucking kill me.

Here on Daddy's money, you were that girl. And though it was an obvious perk, it came with one severe expectation. You would be done in four years, and never get below a C. There would be no making up credits, no re-dos. Summer was meant to be spent interning, not making up for stupid mistakes during the year. Your dad's words ring clearly through your mind as you sigh into your desk.

"Wanna go get coffee and bitch about prof for an hour?"

"No, Marcus, I have shit to do," you respond.

"One day you won't be such a bitch to me," he replies, before slinging his backpack over one shoulder and shoving his long hair out of his face. "I'm gonna go to his office hours tomorrow and give him a piece of my mind," he says as he walks past you.

"Good luck with that," you joke, staring down at the floor.

You'd been able to wear your favorite boots today, and your legs covered in black tights were a sight for sore eyes. But none of it could be enjoyed, these little beauties of life that usually brought you peace. The potential of failing this stupid class was looming, and now more than ever you were thankful for the weather, for sunny days always made your bad moods even worse, making you feel almost guilty for your negativity.

"Come to my office hours tomorrow, I have to head home now," you hear Professor Jeong tell a clearly panicked classmate, who sighs with defeat and slumps away. You look up, taking in the small room, a class with only thirty desks, dark and windowless, with bookshelves lining the back wall behind a large mahogany table. The few lamps at the front illuminated the tired and frustrated bodies of your peers as they exit to the front corner, and there is no part of you that wants to join that sad parade. There had to be a way out of this, a way to avoid your worst nightmare. There was no way you'd let your hard work of the last two years go to waste, all to be replaced with beratement from your Dad and a forced position in his company.

You'd never been overcome like this, or so determined. Something in the red ink on your perfectly printed paper had switched a flip. Paper in hand, you sling your book bag over your shoulder and storm to the front of the classroom. The last student had just slipped out, and your professor was turning off the lamp high on the right-most bookshelf, his back to you.

"I need to talk to you," you say. The force in your voice shocks you, and you take a deep breath to recover.

"My office hours are tomorrow, you can co-"

"No, I need to talk to you now."

He turns to you, peering over his shoulder before his chest has time to face you too. Instantly his gaze is piercing, a deepness in his brown eyes that you'd never noticed before. His suit is perfect and sharp and intimidating, and your knees feel wobbly as your guts roll. Who were you to be demanding such a thing from him? You had no idea where it had come from, other than the primal fear of a life lived under your Dad's severe control. Your degree was your chance to escape, and you'd stop at nothing to secure your freedom.

"I have to head home now, I can't talk to you." His voice is stern but soft, and feels like a warm breeze blowing past your cheeks and neck. A shudder runs through you, one you try your best to hide.

"Just five minutes, I'll walk with you out of the building," you reply. He lets out a frustrated sigh through his nose, crossing his arms and staring at you deeply. With a subtle shake of his head he straightens up again, grabbing his own bag off his chair and zipping it closed, before slipping it over his head. He pushes in the chair, and moves to the other lamp, looking back to you once more before clicking it off. For a brief moment the room is blanketed in complete darkness, and all you can hear is the soft rustle of trees outside blowing in the wind.

He opens the door, holding it until you exit, and locks it swiftly behind you.

"I was wondering when you'd finally come talk to me," he says, walking the opposite direction you expect, towards the back of the building. His long strides are hard to keep up with, and you balk at what to say now. There was something eery about his words, but something too that told you to keep going. This may just work, if you were willing to push through your nerves.

"My grades on my last two papers were reasonable, I didn't see any reason to come and argue with you about thos-"

"No, what I mean is, you obviously hate my class," he cuts you off.

"I- I don't, sir, I promise-"

"You don't need to lie to save my ego, I can easily tell when a student doesn't like the work I assign for them," he sighs softly.

"I just don't care much for contemporary books, I'm much more interested in historical literature. And literature written by women tends to interest me more, too," you reply. You'd reached the end of the hallway, the back double doors much shabbier than the front, but still adorned with wood carvings and leaf-shaped handles. Professor Jeong pushes the left door open with ease, holding it in silence until you exit again, rejoining you in your decent of the steps.

"Yes, I have heard this complaint a time or two, and I saw this coming from you, I know your type," he replies cooly, walking fast and still making no eye contact.

"I'm not any type of person, I don't know what the hell you're talking about," you snap, covering your mouth seconds later in regret.

"No, please, lay it all out, I am all ears. It's only about two minutes to the train station, so you'd better make use of it."

"You're seriously going to accuse me of being some "type" of student who complains about how all the books we read are by men, when your main critique of my last paper was that the perspective I took was predictable and the same as so many students before, and that I really should look outside of the box and be more creative with my thinking? When you assign the most boring, predictable, inside the box books known to man? What the hell do you expect, me to invent some deeper meaning to this whiny basic crap I'm reading?"

The words tumble out of you with force, another student you passed looking bewildered, ducking their head down and walking into the grass to avoid you. Adrenaline wracks through you, your heart pounding hard enough you could feel it in your head. You weren't sure what you were thinking, launching into such a person attack of the books he'd assigned. But once he said to lay it all out, your mind couldn't think to do anything else. You try to walk in a straight line beside him, try to keep up with his strides without completely losing your breath. A distant strike of lightning is followed many seconds later by the low rumble of thunder, and your head snaps up in your anxious state, your whole body on high alert. Seconds stretch by, as the air feels suddenly colder and your sweater far too thin. You were waiting for his professional, academic response, knowing almost surely humiliation was about to greet you. But when you finally look up, his lips are turned up in a smirk. Your eyes go wide, wondering if he was laughing, if he found your statement so pathetic and stupid that all it did was make him chuckle.

"You're funny," he deadpans, looking up to the cloudy sky. "And no, I'm not smiling, not at all." His smirk grows wider, almost to a full smile, before he turns from you and steels his face, his expression back to his typical stoicism as his eyes meet yours.

"You think your paper deserves a second look?" he asks, as you cross the bike path and walk through the strip of pine trees, before starting down the stairs to the train station.

"Absolutely, sir, I just want a second chance, maybe I can explain to you further what I meant in certain sections, help you understand- I- I'll rewrite sections if you'd like, anything for a better grade-"

You are cut off by the man in the ticket booth.

"Heading home, Mr. Jeong?" the man calls jovially, waving a large hand in his direction, a pale yellow ticket between his fingers.

"I'll take two today Mr. Choi, thank you," he replies, smoothly walking up to the booth and slipping the man two one-dollar bills.

"Have a nice ride, enjoy your evening!" the man calls as you both walk towards the platform, your boots scuffing on a crack in the stone tiles, eyes too focused on the tall broad back in front of you to notice the ground.

Already a train was approaching, and by the look of your professor, it was obvious this was his. You aren't sure why you're still following; you pull up for a second, eyes wide as you take in the scene around you. The station ss teeming with people, many students and several faces you think you vaguely recognize, but amidst it all his head of black hair ss visible, so much taller than anyone else around. He walks forward a few steps before looking behind him, noticing your absence and squinting hard, trying to find you. The train was now pulling up, and his eyes were flicking between it and the direction he'd lost you, looking the least bit frantic, if that was even possible for him. As soon as the train stops people launch towards the doors, handing the ticket-man their yellow slips and hurriedly finding the seats they want.

When the crowd thins enough and he can see you again, Professor Jeong makes his way to you quickly.

"Whatever you do, don't you dare get on this train car with me," he utters, slipping one of the tickets into your hand and closing it in his. "Don't get off at Fortsmith station, and don't wait for me by the red phone booth outside."

As he walks towards the door his head turns to meet your gaze one last time, and something deep and mischievous glints in his eyes. As he enters the car, ducking low to fit through the small door, you run up behind him, handing the man your ticket too and slipping inside. A moment later the ticket-man jumps in too, sliding closed the door and locking it, sitting in his designated chair.

"How many stops to Fortsmith station?" you ask him, peering over your shoulder at the nearly packed car, only one empty seat next to a man that looked leeringly at you, in a way that made your skin crawl.

"12 stops, ma'am," the man answers, his accent thick.

"How- how many minutes is that, approximately?"

"About 40 minutes, ma'am."

You sigh, stepping out of his way. "Thank you," you add, nodding to him slightly, before turning back around to find a place to stand. When you turn, though, a different seat is empty, one you could swear had been filled by your professor just moments ago.

When you look to the right, you find him sitting by the leering old man and watching you intently. And quickly you slip yourself into that now empty seat, breathing a sigh of relief for your poor heels.

The ride was smoother than you had expected, but the stops were arduous, and each time as people filed on and off, you felt your nerves growing and shaking you. This seemed so strange, that your professor was letting you follow him, giving you the ticket and directions so you wouldn't get lost. Had your little outburst really piqued his interest? Was he only winding you up to shit on you later, in the privacy of his own home, when it was only you two? Suddenly, you realize you know nothing about this man. You aren't even sure if he lives alone, if he has a family, if anything about this little excursion iss a good idea, or if you're walking right into the den of a lion. A deep shudder runs through you when the announcement for 'Fortsmith' comes through the speakers. Only another minute, and you'll be wobbling your way out of here. You'll be in a completely foreign part of the city, not one person knowing where you were.

The station is much smaller, not underground like the University stop, the train only at a full stop for maybe thirty seconds before whisking itself off again. Only one other person steps off with you two; the woman makes quickly for the north exit of the station and disappears into the pouring rain, the cool outside air hitting you and making your body go rigid.

With a quick glance around, you spot the phone booth. It was just to the left of the south exit, visible through the glass panels of the door. As Professor Jeong exits he opens his umbrella, standing patiently by the red booth as you made your way in his direction, your body shaking. Once you exit he begins walking beside you, holding you close under the small radius of his umbrella, his large hand on your back feeling like it was searing right into your skin.

Its a short and quiet walk to the quaint street he lives on, large trees covering the sides of the small boulevard and ivy covering the stone walls of most of the houses. Each was small, only a few with a second floor, including his; it was exactly the type of place you'd expect him to live, the heavy front door creaking as he pulls it open and walks in ahead of you, quickly closing his umbrella and setting it down, and closing the door with a gentle thud once you enter.

A draft hits your wet legs and causes you to shiver again, and you wrap your arms tightly around yourself. Inside it is dim and hazy, and soon he was pulling out a set of matches and lighting a candle on his mantle, the living room coming into view once the warm light started flickering.

"This is my office, wait in here," he says, opening a door just down the hall. When you walk in there is only the soft light of the early evening to guide you, the floor so hard to see that you reach out your hands and shuffle slowly. Once his desk comes into view you spot the ornate lamp just behind it, and carefully reach around to click it on, the room suddenly awash in a gentle pinkness.

Not unlike his classroom, the walls are covered with stacked bookshelves, but in here it was every inch, not a single bit of free space available. You walk slowly to the closest shelf, your eyes scanning over the spines. Shock rips through you as you see the authors: Dickinson, Austen, Bronte, so many of the historical women you adore. Above that shelf is a collection of more contemporary works: Cline, Hooks, Mock, your eyes just about bug out at seeing the names, breath hitching. Here was a stunning collection of so many of your favorite authors, an entire giant bookcase dedicated to the work of women, and women alone.

"You found my favorite shelf, I see." His voice is low and buttery and doesn't shock you, only makes you feel like melting into the floor. But you can't help turning suddenly and clinging to yourself, the room still feeling chilly. "You aren't in trouble, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Why did you bring me here?" you shoot back, taking in a quick breath.

"Why did you come when I told you not to?" he replies, walking close and handing you a cup of steaming tea, the notes of lavender and honey hitting your nose.

"You- you obviously wanted me to come, you told me exactly where to get off-"

You cut yourself off at the sight of him smirking again, and shake your head, the shock of the situation finally hitting you.

"I shouldn't be here, should I?" you suddenly panic, shoving the tea back in his direction, making for your bag on the floor. But as you crouch and grab it your hands feel like stone, not willing to move an inch. You don't want to leave, not at all, as much as some part of you is telling you to stop this and head back to campus, now. You stand back up quickly, feeling awkward as you smooth down the bottom of your oversized sweater, turning to him again.

"Is this wrong?" he asks, gesturing between you with the mug of tea.

"I- I don't know," you sigh.

"I made you tea because you looked cold, are you sure you don't want it?"

You stare longingly at it, his hand easily wrapping around the entire thing. With a hard swallow you push yourself to take a step, grabbing the tea from him and finally taking a sip, your chest instantly feeling warmer.

"Why did you let me follow you?" you ask, turning around and sitting yourself on the smooth top of his desk , crossing your legs. His legs cross too as he leans back against the shelf behind him, a longer piece of his black hair falling in front of his eyes.

"I've been hoping to get a chance to chat with you, ever since I read your first paper."

"So even though you could tell I hated your readings, even though I'm that type of student you seem to have such great distaste for, you still wanted to talk with me?" you ask.

"I kept hoping you'd come to office hours, but you never did," he sighs. "You might hate my class, but you're obviously passionate about literature. You'd be surprised how rare that is, amongst all my English students."

"You've only had a few like me, then?" you ask.

"I've never had any student like you."

Silence hangs in the air, and you sip at your tea to fill it, savoring the way your body is relaxing. You stare at him, trying to read it all. Why the hell would he say something like that to you? Alone in his house, no indication of another soul residing here, you feel oddly comfortable. It had never crossed your mind that you could possibly end up in a situation like this.

"You're determined to get at least a C, aren't you?" he asks.

"I have to," you reply. "I can't- I just have to."

"For your scholarship?"

"No- well, sort of, in a way," you sigh, thinking of your Dad. "It's a long story, but I have to."

"Let me give you some advice then. Just because you don't much care for an assignment, don't throw in the towel and do the bare minimum. Your other work is too good, it makes it obvious when you've barely spent any time on something."

You stop short, tea clasped tightly in your hands, your eyes wide.

"Do you write, any fiction or poetry?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Good, you have an immense talent for writing, you must nurture it."

It was the last thing you were expecting, and the words send shivers of warmth through your limbs, your mouth hanging slightly agape.

"God, do you have any idea how remarkable you are?" he asks, his head suddenly shaking, his arms crossing.

"What do you mean?" You try to keep your composure, but his last words feel like a metaphorical breaking of a boundary, and suddenly your cunt aches and your feet feel tingly. Were you really that easy to break? Liking praise this much was something you'd always felt shame about; your cheeks redden as your heart rate slowly picks up, and you are sure your flush is obvious, even in the faintly pink light of the room.

"You're just- you're remarkable, there's no other way to put it. Like I said, I've never had a student like you," he says.

"Then why torture me with such a bad grade?" you ask, taking another sip.

"I'm not torturing you, it was deserved," he replies. "You wrote that whole paper the night before it was due, didn't you?"

You turn your eyes away in lieu of responding, not wanting to admit that he was absolutely right.

"I know everyone says I'm a harsh grader, but what about next year? You'll have two semesters with either Haas or Park, and both of them are stricter than I am, both expect near perfection. I'm preparing you as best as I can for next year, so your whole degree doesn't blow up in your face at the final hurdle."

"You really care that much?" you fake pout, chuckling a bit and biting your lip.

"Yes, yes I do. You're too smart to not make it out of that University with a degree." His voice is genuine, not an ounce of sarcasm present. Something about how sure and even it is adds to the heat in your low guts, and you squirm slightly, trying to relieve the pressure building between your legs.

"Come here," you say, setting down your mug and holding out your hands in front of you.

"What?" he asks as he pushes off the bookshelf, uncrossing his arms as he starts walking. In only three steps he's just inches away, towering over you as you spread your legs slightly. You're hit with his smell, something musky and rich that you can't name, and all it does is add to the heat inside you, sweat beginning to form underneath your sweater.

"Will you read my stories and poems, if I show them to you?" you ask, tugging on the lapels of his suit jacket, your eyes locked together.

"I won't hold back in my reactions," he says, sighing deeply to try and keep the growing firmness in his pants at bay. Being this close to you was not something he'd planned for, and his head spins as your soft eyes look up so longingly, his own guts doing somersaults at the precious sight.

"I wouldn't want you to," you say, smiling, unbuttoning his jacket and exposing his white button down, making work of the buttons there too, from top to bottom.

"Hey, hey, wait a minute," he chides from above, but he doesn't move an inch, doesn't do a thing to prevent your movements. You notice quickly he isn't wearing an under shirt, met with the creaminess of his skin as you expose his chest, working slowly down to the lowest buttons. You pull his shirt free from where it was tucked in his pants, loosening his belt to help you, before pulling the sides of the shirt wide and finally revealing his naked torso.

Now you understood. He was a nightmare, but in all the ways you least expected. He was better than your dreams, hotter than you could imagine; the flat plane of his chest was broad, and his tummy was the perfect mixture of muscle and softness, a small dark line of hair snaking down from his belly button and into his pants. And his pants, when you finally look down, you see it; his bulge is straining against the fabric, long and hard and thick, and immediately you start salivating, running your tongue along your bottom lip to collect yourself.

"Good god," he groans from above, his pupils blown, losing the fight to not be affected by you. Your small, soft hands running over his torso feel heaven-sent, and in seconds he's rock hard, shamelessly staring down the low cut of your sweater, letting himself look at you the way he's been wanting to for months.

"This- this is what you want?" he asks, breathless, running a thumb down the side of your cheek, turning your head up further to meet his gaze head-on.

"You- you just kept saying such nice things, and it made me feel all weird right here." You grab his hand and pull it towards your crotch, the warmth and wetness immediately evident even with your tights in the way.

"Fuck," he groans, tipping his head back and sighing. Though he knew it was already risky bringing you here, lines were now being crossed that were objectively wrong. He tries to pull his hand away from your core, but he can't, and when he looks down at you again, your eyes are wide with want and need, conflict screws all of his thoughts into a tight knot.

But before he can stop himself, his open lips meet yours. The kiss is immediately deep, all the tension and heat you'd just created washing through you both. He starts applying some pressure with his hand, rubbing his fingers up and down against the warmth of your cunt, and you moan into his mouth, suddenly breaking the kiss when he hits your sensitive spot, your mouth falling open. With no support behind you, you grab onto his arms, pulling him closer as you move to kiss him again, his right hand wrapping around your back to hold you up.

His lips are soft and sweet in yours, and you can't help biting at the plumpness of his lower lip, making a quick breath escape his mouth before he dives in harder, the hand on your back moving up to your nape as he pulls your face impossibly closer. You reach your hands out to feel over the bareness of his torso again; his skin feels hot and smooth, his abdominal muscles clenching as he leans into you more and takes all the effort of steadying you both. Balanced on the edge of his desk you feel shaky, so you reach around his hips and pull them closer, forcing him to remove his hand as your cores meet in sudden ecstasy, the hardness of him feeling all too delicious against your soaked cunt.

Immediately you're grinding against him, savoring every bit of pleasure you can get, while his wide torso cages you in and his soft lips move to your cheek, then your neck, trailing down until he's biting at the soft skin above your collar bone. The choked moan that leaves you sounds almost like a cry of pain, but it was really just the shock, the unexpected pleasure you were getting from every little movement of his.

He pulls his mouth away, suddenly nervous he's taken a wrong step, gone too far. His hair falls in his face as he watches you shamelessly grind against him, your eyes still screwed shut in ecstasy, stopping at nothing to get all of the pleasure you can from it. It takes you a few moments to register the absence of his lips, and when you do you look up at him through hooded eyes, wondering why he pulled back.

"What do you want?" he asks, working hard to rip his eyes away from the sight of you grinding on him.

"Just wanna be good for you," you say breathlessly, swallowing a moan. "Wanna- wanna make you feel good."

"You are making me feel good, angel, I'm so fucking hard," he sighs, looking down again and starting to rock his hips slightly, in time with yours. The added pressure and friction send jolts of pleasure through you, and suddenly your head feels a bit fuzzy, your hands and feet tingling with delight. "You gotta tell me to stop, I can't- this, fuck, we shouldn't be..."

"Please don't stop," you cry, holding onto him for dear life, focused entirely on the feeling of him against you, his strong arms in your hands, his hot breath on your face, his hardness giving you more pleasure than you could ever dream of. "I'll rewrite my entire paper, I'll do anything, just please, don't stop."

"You don't have to promise me that right now," he says, holding you tight against him. "You're too good, let yourself have this."

With his permission, you let go completely, all thoughts leaving you as the pleasure becomes overwhelming, your spasming cunt sending shockwaves of pleasure up through your entire core. His lips are on yours again, and he kisses you deeply, savoring every taste he can find, all but devouring you as he keeps up with your pace, rocking his straining cock against you just how you need it. You feel fully enveloped by him, by his smell and his words, by the feelings of complete safety and desire that he's lighted within you. You never expected this conversation with him to go so well, to head in this direction. For the first time in your life a teacher saw what you hoped they would in your writing, and his admission of his admiration for you left you wanting every bit of praise and pleasure he could give.

Finally, you feel it building deep, a volcano about to explode, your core tightening and threatening to snap. The feeling is searingly hot and delicious, your legs starting to shake, his hands moving to hold onto your thighs as you desperately shake and hump against him, chasing your orgasm to completion. You rip your mouth from his to scream, all the glee and nerves of your evening coming to a head, your body going rigid as it rips through you, your climax so intense and long lasting that you can't quite believe it's real.

"Good girl, let yourself cum," he whispers in your ear, helping you through it. His cock is achingly hard in his pants, but the feeling of you coming in his arms takes all his attention, the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. It's hard to tell when it ends, your legs still so shaky, but eventually your rubbing ceases, and he stops his thrusting too, just holding you in place as you pant and center yourself, adrenaline and happiness coursing through you.

"You okay?" he asks.

"More than okay," you sigh, slumping into him, making you both laugh. It's light, airy, the sound an absolute joy to your ears. You look up, face flushed and cheeks high in a smile, and he leans down to kiss you, a soft and patient kiss that makes butterflies dance in your stomach.

"I didn't mean for that to escalate like that," he says, sighing.

"I did," you say, and it makes him laugh harder, his high cheeks and beautiful smile greeting you. You've never seen him look so sweet, so happy; your stomach suddenly clenches with a feeling of utter admiration, and it's so deep that tears spring in the corners of your eyes. You blink them away, not wanting to cry in front of him, but you can't help the look on your face. His smile is gorgeous, and internally you're melting at just how perfect he is.

You stay locked together for a long time, the minutes passing by as you both breath deeply, more kisses planted on your forehead and cheeks that make you giggle and squirm. Eventually you come down, your legs finally not shaking, your body coming back to the temperature of the room. The cool air is making you sleepy, and you yawn as you pull away from him, gently moving him back so you can stand and stretch your legs, gathering yourself.

It's silent, slightly awkward, but nothing in you feels scared. Though your legs are back to freezing, you feel a warmth in your chest and stomach that won't leave, and when you look up to him, his face is soft and still and utterly lovely.

"I really didn't mean for that to happen," he says, clearing his throat and finally breaking the silence.

"It's okay, seriously, I- I wanted it to," you sigh, holding his gaze.

"I really think you're amazing, it's not just that you're beautiful, I- I want you to go places, I want all of your dreams to come true. With writing, and everything else too," he says, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," you respond, nodding and smiling. "I know."

It's all you can think to say, when so much is running through your head. Now that your heart rate is more normal you can actually think straight, and though you don't feel scared, there is some level of uncertainty dancing in the back of your mind. Where would this lead? And what could possibly come of it? Your own hormones and emotions had led the way earlier, and now you weren't so sure it had been the best choice. But you also couldn't fault yourself for doing it, because you knew that if given the chance, you'd absolutely do it again, as many times as he'd be willing to. Class now might be a nightmare, your active imagination supported by this memory. But that didn't sound all bad, either, frankly. It might be fun to make eyes at him and watch him stutter, to see just how much you could affect him in front of all your peers.

"Are you wanting to head home now?" he asked.

"I probably should, I have a lot of homework to do. And I need to get some dinner."

Twenty minutes later, the delivery arrives, and you sit in his living room sipping at your favorite soup, a casual conversation about your other classes filling the air. It had always bugged you when people asked about school, but for some reason with him, you felt giddy to brag, excited to share every grade and project you could. You felt seen, felt actually supported. It struck you over and over how strange it was to be feeling this way with him, of all people.

"Rewrite that paper, you have a week," he says as you stand in his open door, the streets and lawn drenched from the rain, but the sky now clear.

"Rewrite the whole thing?"

"I expect it to be up to the standard of your other two papers."

With all of the other work you had, it should have been frustratingly hard to finish it. But there was something about thinking of his face as you worked, of his hands, of his chest and his abs and his cock....

You finished the paper in record time, turning it in only four days later. And the next day in class it was lying on your desk when you entered, bright red marks along the front again.

91%.

You looked up at him, and though it was subtle, there was no question there was a glint in his eye as he winked.

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bearxgyeomie · 5 days ago

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bearxgyeomie · 6 days ago

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Just Another Night, Until You | Choi San

❤️‍🔥 Summary: Hectic nights at work is nothing out of the ordinary for you, but when a man is wheeled into the Intensive Care Unit with second degree burns all over his body and in the need of immediate medical attention, your life takes a turn as his body heals on his own by the mere presence of you. Shocked by the discovery, you stay by his side as he recovers and together you come to terms with your unexpected connection.

❤️‍🔥 Pairing(s): Firefighter!San x Emergency physician!Reader

❤️‍🔥 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, best friend's brother, oldest daughter and youngest son, slice of life, fluff

❤️‍🔥 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), brief description of burn injuries, medical setting, san is living up to his romance-cat title, pet names (darling, my love, love, honey), MC is a Jeong, a lot of physical intimacy, kisses gallore, san is down bad for the MC, brief description of motorcycle accident and fractured bones (not explicit), the fear of losing loved ones, emotional exhaustion, a few swear words, not beta read!

❤️‍🔥 Wordcount: 7.5K

❤️‍🔥 Author's Note: Click the image for a better resolution (Tumblr I hate you). Wihooo! And there goes the second to last instalment of the March Event ;-; im lowkey sad it's ending soon although it gives me more time to work on other stuff!! anyhow, this one was really fun to write and I hope you'll enjoy it, be prepared for a lot of love sick sannie 🥹 Btw I'm not a nurse/doctor or have any "proper" knowledge regarding how things go down in the E.R or hospital for that matter either, so this is all based on excessive research. Thank you for your understanding!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is rated SFW, however it contains mature scenes such as descriptions of serious injuries, medical procedures as well as adult language. Minors, please, read at your own risk and refrain from interacting or following my blog!

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It was an exceptionally calm hour in Seoul National University Hospital. Most nights were bustling with life, whether it’d be residential patients abusing the call button, relatives refusing to leave after visiting hours were over or an incoming emergency putting the whole hospital in a fit. But not tonight. The clock hanging on the wall opposite of the nurse’s station in the emergency department recently struck midnight. You slumped down by your desk as Haneul, your roommate, best friend and fellow colleague, dragged her legs behind her and nearly toppled over her seat. You finished off the last rounds of checking in on the inpatients on your floor, yet your social batteries were already drained and the nightshift had just started.

Haneul blew a raspberry before her head dropped onto the desk with a soft thud. She groaned and threw herself back on the chair, her arms extended and legs elevated. Her slip-on shoes barely hung onto her feet and she wasn’t faring any better.

“I’m so tired,” she complained and went limp in her seat. “I can’t wait to clock out and return to my boyfriend.”

You let out an amused huff, the pencil twirling in your fingers coming to a stop as you caught it mid air. “You mean your bed?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Ha-ha, really funny Haneul.”

“It’s a bit funny, admit it!”

You rolled your eyes at her, but couldn’t fight off the smile that spread across your face. It was never a dull moment when in Haneul’s company. You were certain that even if death were around the corner, she’d still find a way to make the situation feel light. That was probably why you two had hit it off at university. She was mostly, if not always, in a cheerful mood, while you walked around with a dark cloud over your head. Had it not been for Haneul approaching you solely because your shirt was similar to one of her favorite character’s outfits in a drama, you probably would never have become friends. A decade later and you were tighter than two peas in a pod, and even decided — after your first semester — to move into a flat together which was still your current home.

“Whatever… I can’t complain as it’s at least a quiet night.”

The unspoken rule of never mentioning the obvious flashed before your eyes and you cowered from the blazing look Haneul shot your way. The air was caught in your throats and neither dared to move an inch from your places. You slowly turned your head sideways, waiting for a patient to peek their head out or scream that their pillow needed puffing up. As the empty hallway continued staying silent and the motion sensor lights didn’t turn on, you exhaled in relief.

“You got lucky there,” she said and logged into her computer.

As you parted your mouth to answer, a voice broke through from the radio placed on the wall-mounted brackets. A report concerning a handful of people who were hurt in a fire set loose in an apartment came through and everyone ditched their tasks to get ready for the newcomers. You and Haneul, along with other nurses, ran to the trauma bay and occupied a room each where you, hopefully not, would get a patient each. The sound of multiple sirens grew louder the faster the ambulances sped toward the hospital and didn’t stop until the flashes of red and blue colored the building. Despite being employed for two years and counting, you never got accustomed to the ear piercing noise or blinding lights.

“Nurse Kim, could you prepare the wound care kit? Nurse Hwang, bring the respiratory support system. We don’t know what we’re dealing with so we need to expect the worst!”

The commotion from the triage area reached your room as the patients were being rolled into the hospital and underwent the initial assessment of their conditions. The code red patients would fall into your hands and you, together with your team, would do your utmost to lessen their injuries. You put the other glove on and waited by the door of your room. The sight before you was jarring to say the least. The victims of the fire were all in different conditions. Some crying and wincing from the burnmarks while others lay completely still as if the burned skin wasn’t a painful inconvenience. The wonders of falling unconscious. An elderly nurse with a couple of years beneath her belt pushed a stretcher toward you and you hastily moved out of the way.

Nurse Yeon quickly spewed the little information she knew of the unconscious patient, but you couldn’t focus on her words. Your entire attention was given to the man before you. He looked peaceful despite the soot smudged across his face and several burn marks littering the majority of his body. He was also handsome — very handsome. That, you couldn’t deny. His black strands fell over his closed eyes and brows. Most of his features were sharp and defined, red heart-shaped lips in a slight pout, a long nose with a prominent bridge, high cheekbones and a few beauty marks peeking out from beneath the smeared ash. But you knew that, out of everything, his most alluring feature was his eyes — even when closed. You could see the feline-like shape that reminded you of a panther in the wild and you found yourself wondering what color they were. A tingle erupted along the pads of your fingers, almost begging you to move his hair out of the way.

“...He was found unconscious in the building after being caught in the fire. Red category. He has second-degree burns on twenty percent of his body, severe smoke inhalation and is currently in respiratory distress. We’ve initiated oxygen therapy. BP is low and bolus fluids were administered to stabilize circulation. He is unresponsive, likely due to hypoxia.”

Nurse Yeon brought you back to the present and you ignored the highly unprofessional thought. With the help of Nurse Kim, you connected him to a monitoring machine and proceeded with the remaining steps of the protocol drilled into your spine. You administered high-flow oxygen via a non-rebreather mask to address the smoke inhalation and to prevent breathing issues later on.

Facing away from the patient to grab a scalpel in order to cut his already torn shirt, you just about turned your head and called out, “Nurse Kim, give him an IV fluid with saline to prevent shock and maintain blood pressure as well as a light dose of morphine to relieve him of pain. Nurse Hwang, hand me the scalpel, please.”

The nurses wasted no time following your orders. While Nurse Kim stabilized the patient’s blood pressure, you drove the sharp end of the scalpel through the center of his shirt to expose the injured area and assess what else you had to work with. As expected, there were blotches of irritated, red skin all over his upper body. It didn’t look too bad but would scar if left untreated. Your main concern was the smoke inhalation, but the high-flow oxygen proved effective, as the pulse oximeter showed that the oxygen saturation in his blood was slowly improving and you could swiftly move on to treat his wounds.

“Nurse Hwang, hand me the antiseptic soluti–”

A horrified gasp cut you off mid sentence and your head flung to the doorway where a nurse — a trainee at that — stood with her wide eyes and mouth hanging open behind her health mask. The interruption crawled beneath your skin like electricity. You glanced down at her nametag.

“Trainee Park?”

The student didn’t budge nor make a noise of acknowledgement and you had half a mind to terminate the established contract between the hospital and nursing school. You understood the weight of students gaining hands-on experience in a hospital setting, but it was beyond the agreement for a student to interrupt a life alternating moment for the patient.

“Trainee Park I won’t ask you a second time, what is it?!”

Antiseptic solution in hand, you faced the student again, though her focus wasn’t on you but on something behind you. A line formed between your brows as you followed her gaze, leading to what she was staring at. Your patient still lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling in rhythmic motion, but you weren’t caught off guard by his regulated breathing. The patches of glaring red skin that previously looked painful to the eye were replaced with a lighter hue as if his body was recovering on its own. It was inhumane and in all your years as both a student and a licensed doctor, you had never seen anything like it. However, everyone in the room knew exactly what it meant.

“Fuck…”

One of the male nurses found the patient’s ID-card in the cardholder neatly tucked in the pocket of his pants while changing him into a hospital gown, but it was the teary look on Haneul after seeing the man’s face that everything clicked in place. Choi San, the little brother of your best friend, was your soulmate.

The realization didn’t hit you while standing in the center of the trauma room or when his injuries healed more quickly beneath the touch of your finger. The fact that you had found your soulmate dawned on you early one morning, as you were making rounds between the remaining victims of the apartment fire and came across his room — the last patient to be checked on. The thought of finding your soulmate hadn’t crossed your mind in years. It was locked away in your old high school classroom, along with your youth, when you used to fret over who your soulmate might be. Would they be a foreigner? A celebrity? A boy or a girl? Rich, kind, or rude? The possibilities seemed endless, and you often spent more time daydreaming about the different outcomes than focusing on your studies. It was a miracle you didn’t fail most of your classes.

It was only when you set a goal that you lost interest in who your soulmate was and dedicated more of your time to studying. Little by little, as assignments piled up, you pushed the thought of your other half to the back of your mind and forgot about it. Of course, there were instances when the topic would come up every now and then — meeting distant relatives for the first time in forever and having them ask about your partner, or going out to dinner with Haneul and watching her get so drunk she forgets her own name, but still manages to make bets. Looks like you’d be treating her to that BBQ after all.

You entered the room and stopped at the end of the patient bed staring at San’s sleeping form. The harmless jealousy seeped into your bones as he lay there oblivious to the turmoil wrecking havoc inside of you and you wondered if, despite his unconscious state, he could feel even a glimpse of your emotions. Because you could feel him throughout your entire shift. The change in breathing, eyes fluttering, the subtle rise and fall of his chest as if he was right there with you.

The joke you once cracked to Haneul when you first started working there, something along the lines of finding your soulmate while tending to their wounds, wasn’t funny anymore and left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. You sighed and glanced down at the patient chart hanging off the bedside. His vitals were good. More than good considering he was being driven straight from a burning building. Doctor Jung ran some tests on him during the night and they confirmed that San suffered greatly until he arrived at the hospital, until he reached you.

The doors of the room were violently pushed open and the eldest Choi entered as if her brother wasn’t lying there unconscious. Her unexpected arrival stopped your thoughts from spiraling further and your heart from racing into palpitations. It was weird to see her lips pressed into a thin line and eyes void of light, replacing her usual dimpled smile that would brighten your day.

“How is he?” She eventually asked and buried her hands in the pockets of her white coat.

You cleared your throat and mimicked her stance, both of you focused on the resting man. “He’s healthier than a newborn baby.”

Five hours of constantly being on your feet, moving around and not having the chance to take a five minute toilet break put you in a hazy mist. It wasn’t until now that you felt the weight of the situation sink in. Who would’ve thought your best friend’s brother was your soulmate?

“You know,” Haneul started and broke you out of your thoughts. “I’m happy it’s you. Someone I know and trust as much as I trust myself.”

The words were oddly warm and spread a branch of hope through you. While you were too caught up with your work and then your own feelings, you didn’t stop to think what Haneul thought of everything. Her two worlds were colliding and it could either be good or bad.

“Is it weird?”

“Not at all… It’s the best thing I could ask for. That my best friend and brother get along… Just…” Haneul gnawed on the side of her bottom lip and turned to you, “Just don’t hurt him, Jeong. San is a tough cookie, but he has a fragile heart and I really don’t want to ever choose between you. You are both very dear to me.”

“You won’t have to. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hurt him even if I tried.”

Haneul chuckled despite the tears making their escape down her cheeks. “Is it really like how they say? Are you already… affected by him?”

You breathed out a laugh at that. The countless nights spent talking and making fun of other couples who had already found their happily ever after were sure biting you in the ass, because it was, in fact, exactly how they said it would be. The unexplainable pull drawing you toward him, the yearning to be by his side and feeling him everywhere. Every skip of his heart, harsh intake of air and twitch of his fingers were all transferred to you

“Yeah, it’s exactly how they say it is.”

Haneul eventually left to do her last rounds and finish writing reports until the sun peeked over the horizon, signaling the end of your second night shift that week. San didn’t wake up until a few hours later and despite being hooked to a monitor regulating his state and showing nothing out of the ordinary, you didn’t leave his side for even a second. The dread of another emergency report coming through squeezed your abdomen until you were on the verge of puking. Just the thought of parting from him almost sent you hurling your insides in the guest bathroom. You were lucky to have wonderful colleagues who understood the circumstances and reassured you multiple times not to worry about finishing your reports or doing rounds. Nurse Hwang and Kim even passed by with snacks and water before returning to work.

The clock struck early morning when your chin slid off your knuckles and you were unpleasantly awoken from your slumber. The fear of falling to your death had you jumping out of your seat and taking in your surroundings. The sun gently shone through the windows occupying the entire left side of the room and filled the space with auburn streaks kissing your face. The warm rays seeped through the cherry blossom trees planted along the outskirts of the hospital. You found the view to be exceptionally beautiful during the early mornings when the pink petals detached from the branches, swirling in the air like snowflakes and covering the boring cement pavement..

A laser like heat bored into the side of your head and you scanned the room to find the source, only to get lost in the eyes of your soulmate. A wide smile stretched across his face and you realized the dimple gene ran deep in the Choi family as an identical pair to Haneul’s popped on San’s cheeks. You couldn’t shake away the image of a content and well fed cat at the sight of him.

San immediately shifted the blanket to the side and had one bare foot planted on the floor, ready to leap out of bed and wrap you in his arms. The man just about managed to stand on both legs when you rushed from your seat and gently pushed him back down.

“No, no, please, sit!”

San fell back on the mattress without much of a fight. The moment your hand made contact with his shoulder, an explosion of tingles erupted along your palm, spreading like wildfire through your arm and out to the rest of your limbs, reaching the tips of your toes and fingers. The air caught in your throat and, like magnets forced together, your eyes found his again. Neither of you had to vocalize the question balancing on the tip of your tongues, asking if the other felt that crackling fire. San sensed the twinge of worry squeezing at your heart and hummed in content, he reached out and grabbed one of your hands in his to ease the burden atop your shoulders. He smiled so hard his eyes turned into crescent moons and hadn’t you known better, you’d think he’d start purring like a cat receiving ear scratches.

“I’m fine. I don’t need rest because you are here.”

You ignored the heat pooling beneath your cheeks at his rather flamboyant response and steered the conversation elsewhere. “What were you thinking running into a burning building?”

The words came out effortlessly, as if you had known him since your youth.

“I didn’t do it on purpose…” He began and jutted out his bottom lip. “My feet just moved on their own, call it an instinct. Besides, I couldn’t just leave everyone inside. I’d put shame on the entire fire department!”

“Curse you for being reckless and kind hearted, San.”

“Yet thanks to my recklessness, I landed in the hospital and found you.”

The cheeky reply nearly made you pop a blood vessel. You didn’t understand how he could be so calm after facing death less than eight hours ago. The monitor attached to him shouldn’t have been stable. Based on your past experience with burn victims, San should’ve been startled and shaken up, and in some uncomfortable pain. Instead, he remained unnervingly composed, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you question your own knowledge. His calmness felt unnatural, given the circumstances. The heart rate monitor, which should’ve shown elevated readings due to stress, stayed oddly steady and only spiked up when you spoke, moved or looked at him for too long.

“San… we are soulmates. We would’ve met eventually,” you hissed, trying to mask the look of realization on your face. The soulmate bond explained his calm demeanor. As he said, he was fine now that you were there, while you just wanted to cover him in bubble wrap and not let him out of your sight.

“Yes, but not soon enough.”

You abandoned the conversation for now as it wouldn’t lead anywhere. San was deadset on his decision being correct even though it was a foolish one and you still had a job to do. Ignoring the way he followed your every movement, a polite smile and creased eyes never leaving your form, you adjusted his pillows and checked the IV attached to his forearm.

“Do you need anything else?”

“Hmmm, just you.”

Had you met under different circumstances, perhaps in a grocery store where you'd bump carts together or on a packed bus where he’d give up his seat for you and stand by your side to shield you from the other commuters, his charms would’ve worked. But you didn’t. Instead San decided to search the burning building for others with no gear, just his strong will and hope clinging onto his back, and all his attempts at flirting were futile as you couldn’t get the image of his unconscious body out of your head.

“Too bad,” you settle on saying. “You can’t have me before twelve PM.”

The pout intensified and he even crossed his arms in retaliation. Seeing a man in his late twenties throw a silent tantrum wasn’t something you thought you’d ever find endearing, but there you were, suppressing a laugh and yearning to smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead.

“Do you have to go?” He whispered and looked up at you through his lashes.

“Yes, unless you want me to be fired?”

“Fine! But the second that clock hits twelve, you and I are both getting out of here.”

“You can’t just leave, San, they have to run tests and–”

“I’ve never felt better and I think every doctor in the building can agree with me. What I will be if I don’t get to spend time with you is sick, and sad, and heartbroken and–”

“I get it, I get it!”

San lived up to his promise of spending time with you. In fact, he wasted no time running down the hallway the moment the minute hand switched to twelve, asking everyone dressed in white cloaks where Doctor Jeong was. The question left his mouth for the tenth time that minute just as you rounded the corner, ready to check out. San gave you all of three seconds to bid your colleagues goodbye before whisking you away. His plan of getting to know you consisted of lying tangled up on his sofa with a meaningless movie playing in the background, while his fingers caressed your back and his eyes shifted back to you every other second, as if he couldn’t believe you were real.

You weren’t faring any better. Your head was neatly tucked beneath his chin, and your hand was splayed over his right pectoral, the tips of your fingers gently rubbing soothing motions beneath the curve of his collarbone. Had you known your soulmate would be a kitten with separation anxiety, you’d have stalled on meeting him for a little while longer. Although, deep down, you knew that was a lie. San was everything you needed him to be and more: attentive, gentle, sweet, kind, caring — the list was truly endless.

The days spent cocooned together — San on sick leave to recover from the accident and you having the next two days off from work — made up for the thirty-something years you hadn’t been in each other’s lives. In just forty-eight hours, you created a bond that most lifelong best friends would envy. He shared embarrassing stories from his and Haneul’s childhood days — sweet memories of how his mother dressed him in Haneul’s hand-me-downs, despite her closet mainly consisting of flower dresses and cute skirts. In return, you told him about that one time you accidentally locked your parents out on the balcony and then hurled your breakfast back out from the anxiety and fear of never seeing them again. If only little you could have understood the wonders of spare keys and that your grandmother was already on her way to solve the issue.

The first night was spent staying up late, talking about heartfelt stories and niche interests to the point where you both passed out and didn’t wake up until late afternoon the next day. Who knew your hunk of a fireman liked collecting sweet plushies and was adamant on learning how to crochet?

That wasn’t everything though. A week into your freshly established relationship and San hadn’t missed to stop by your workplace once to give you lunch, coffee, midnight snacks or a quick peck on the cheek. It was easy in the beginning when San didn’t return to work for an entire week. The soulmate bond proved that he wasn’t in need of resting as much as his company thought and he eventually had to return earlier than expected. It was weird to be glued to each other for hours on end to then not be able to see each other because of your hectic schedules that never seemed to align. When you’d return home from a long night shift, he was dressed and ready to leave.

You voiced your worries to Haneul during a lunch break, saying how you were afraid of moving too fast, but now that you barely got to spend time together, it felt like you were moving at a snail’s pace. She mildly reassured you that it craved more than some social distance for your soulmate bond to break and that it would take some time for you to find your footing in the relationship.

However, working multiple shifts a week while running on little to no sleep left you too exhausted to plan an outing whenever an opportunity for the two of you to spend time together appeared. Date-night looked different in the Choi-and-Jeong books. Instead of glamming up and booking a reservation at a fancy restaurant, you decided to stay in and watch a movie that would sooner or later be forgotten as you’d be too enamoured with each other. Haneul walked in on one too many make-out sessions, and thus, you came to the decision to host movie nights strictly at San’s apartment.

Like many times before, you lay atop San, his legs parted, giving you the option to cage his left one between yours. One of his arms was bent and propped behind his head to act as a cushion, while the other was curled around you, his hand pressing against the small of your back in a comforting embrace. Your cheek was mushed against his chest and your hand limply rested on his bicep. A movie played on the big screen and a plethora of snacks were strewn out on the coffee table but left untouched. You joked about how, ever since San entered your life, your sugar cravings had dramatically decreased because he was bringing too much sweetness into it.

“Honey?” San broke the comfortable silence and spoke over the characters on the TV. You hummed in reply and he continued. “I want to ask you something.”

As you shifted to get a better look at him, he pulled you in a tight embrace and you immediately stopped moving. “Don't look at me, just… listen? Please?”

“Okay, Sannie, what is it?”

“How do you feel about… moving in… with me? Or me with you!” You could hear the blush attacking his cheeks and embarrassment clinging onto his voice as it grew higher in the end and the words came out in a rush.

Joy tugged at your lips and you couldn’t stop the light hearted chuckle from slipping out in the room. You broke out of his gentle hold and grabbed his hand in yours, and planted a chaste kiss on it.

“I think I’d love that.”

Without warning, he squeezed your cheeks between his palms and captured your lips in a tender kiss, leaving your insides warm and mushy. Despite having muscles the size of a watermelon and broad shoulders that could carry the entirety of Noah’s ark, San was a real softie. He had the habit of holding you as if you were the most valuable possession on the earth, a feather which could crumble at contact or a cube of sugar that would melt beneath the rain. The shared kisses were brief but left a tingle on your lips that you couldn't get enough of and nearly whined in retaliation as San withdrew to catch his breath.

“I adore you, like really, really much,” he confessed and kissed you again, and again, and again. The peppered kisses were planted all over your face — nose, cheeks, mouth, chin, eyes, forehead. The endearing act of love pulled a string of giggles straight out of your tummy, cursing you with an ache that your grandmother would call remedy for the soul.

One moment he was on you and the next, he turned you over to lay against the couch while he scrambled to his bedroom on the other side of the apartment. You pushed yourself up on your forearms with only your upper body lifted as you curiously watched San runoff as if his rear caught on fire.

“Sannie?”

“Just a second, honey!”

Rough shuffling reached the living room, but it was the loud crash of objects clattering on the ground that you almost headed to see the commotion yourself. San’s reassuring voice telling you everything was okay didn’t help you relax, but you trusted his judgement and remained seated. The eager wait was short lived as San returned with something tightly clutched in his right hand and stopped by the end of the couch, back uncomfortably straight and face pinched into a serious expression. Hadn’t you known him for a little shorter than a month, you’d assume he was about to get down on one knee and ask you to live the rest of your life by his side.

San cleared his throat and extended his arm low enough for you to see his well manicured fingernails. You shuffled over closer to the end of the sofa and sat up on your knees. His fingers unfolded and exposed the trinket laying in the center of his palm. An apartment key. The spare key to his apartment to be precise.

“I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but I’ve never been sure of anything more than this and I really want to take this next step with you.”

“Are you asking me to marry you or move in with you?”

Red dusted his cheeks and he had to look away. Your own lips curved up as his eyes creased into crescent moons, a telltale of his dimpled smile making an appearance. San covered his mouth as if it would make his smile disappear. Testing the waters, he asked, “Would you say yes?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out.”

San was sure he could pass out right then and there. His cheeks hurt from smiling too much, but it was the only pain he would ever welcome with open arms. You climbed onto the couch and jumped into San's arms and he effortlessly caught you, his hands finding their designated place on your hips and thighs while your arms slid around his neck like a koala. Your fronts were pressed against each other, but you continued pulling him toward you, as if the chance of becoming one entity was higher than inventing flying cars. San dipped you down princess-style and stole a long kiss, one that you were more than eager to reciprocate. Your fingers tangled in his black hair, nails soothingly scratching his scalp, and your heart swelled with so much love and happiness it felt like it could explode and fill the living room with colorful confetti.

It was a shame the human needed air every few minutes because all you wanted to do in that moment was feel him everywhere. Breaking apart, you rested your forehead against his, hot breaths fanning across each other’s lower faces, chests rising with fervor as your bodies desperately tried to reclaim the lost oxygen."

“I’d say yes a hundred times over,” you breathed out, “but let’s save that for after we meet the in-laws.”

“My parents have already scheduled a day for when we can go to Namhae,” he eagerly replied to which you hastily leaned back, nearly sending you both tumbling over.

“San! I swear you’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably in love with you.”

Lips swollen, eyes welling with joy and hearts beating erratically, the world paused as you looked at each other. The diploma neatly placed on your desk and the knowledge you had collected over the years seemed insignificant when the love you harbored for San could regrow burned forests, mend broken bridges and heal even the most shattered of hearts.

Living with San was nothing out of the ordinary, except that you saw each other more now that you lived under the same roof. Considering your shared apartment with Haneul was bigger than San’s, it only made sense for the Choi siblings to switch places. That way you kept your room and San took Haneul’s. You quickly realized you could’ve just moved into San’s apartment instead as neither ever went to sleep alone. More often than not, San would crawl into your bed, claiming it was cozier than his, but you knew even the ground would be a great sleeping place as long as you were in his arms. That was precisely what you wanted — to be in San’s arms. Instead you were working another night shift, the most hectic one since the fire incident a couple of weeks ago.

A young man, no older than twenty, had been in a motorcycle crash, leaving him with severe pain and swelling in his right leg, which was pushed into an unnatural position. The skin was entirely torn off, exposing blood and muscle tissue. You had a suspicion about how severe the situation was, but it still called for an X-ray examination. As expected, the results confirmed multiple fractures of the femur and tibia, requiring surgery the next day at the latest. Changmin, as his driver’s license indicated, was in immense pain and even struggled with breathing difficulties into the night. This left you and your co-workers with no choice but to monitor him closely throughout the remainder of your shift. To say it was tiring would be an understatement. Your feet were so sore it felt like walking on a rug of medical needles and your back ached, begging you to lie in bed and not get up until the birds returned from Southeast Asia.

The only thing pushing you through the long day was the fact that you knew San was waiting on you at home. It didn’t matter if he was awake or not. Your tense muscles relaxed by the thought of burying your face in his chest and forget the world until your batteries were restored again. It became a routine for the both of you. When one had a more physically draining day at work, the other was ready to pamper them and make them feel completely taken care of.

After a few failed attempts to insert the key into the door, you finally managed to unlock it. A stream of blue light illuminated the otherwise dark apartment and was accompanied by muffled voices coming from the living room. You haphazardly threw your shoes off, not bothering to neatly place them next to one of San’s hundred pairs of sneakers, and instinctively followed the animated sounds that belonged in a cartoon.

The scene you were met with nearly brought you to tears. San was seated in the middle of the sofa, a fuzzy blanket thrown over his head and shoulders, with two mugs of hot cocoa steaming on the table in front of him. The bag slung over your shoulder slipped off and fell to the floor with a gentle thud. Your jacket — a gift from San’s closet — was at least two sizes too big, making you look like a bear ready to hibernate. The colorful scarf you had been wearing since your teenage years reached up to your nose. San whipped his head in your direction and his stoic expression softened into one of understanding at the sight of fresh tears coating your waterline. His lips curled into a small, reassuring smile that spoke more of compassion than words ever could.

He quickly lifted one side of the blanket and beckoned you over with a gentle command. “C’mere honey.”

That was the last straw for your tears to start rolling. You wasted no time shedding your outer layers of clothing and curling into San’s side. A sob that you had been holding in throughout the entire car ride home vibrated against his chest. San ran his hand up and down your back while whispered praises tickled your ear. He planted a kiss on your crown and pulled you over him as he fell back against the couch. You adjusted yourself more comfortably, both legs falling on either side of his hips so as not to fall, and he swiftly maneuvered the blanket to shield you from the chilly atmosphere. The minutes ticked by and you had no perception of how long you stayed in that position, but your sobs eventually subdued to soft sniffling.

“How did you know?” You whispered, a tremble hanging onto your vocal chords, and sat up.

San’s hands travelled to rest on your waist, thumbs rubbing circular motions into your flesh. “I just… felt you.”

“Felt me?”

He hummed, “I still do. Happiness, sadness, fear, anger — everything, right here.” His hand hovered over your heart and you understood. You really did.

There was no scientific explanation for the emotional connection that kept you in tune with each other’s feelings. The unexpected pressure weighing down on your lungs at even the slightest discomfort or worry he experienced, like when he stumbled upon a video of a duckling being separated from its mother. It was uncanny how your heart soared hours before he came home with good news about a promotion, or the unexplainable sense of pride you had been carrying all day — only to discover it was coming from San, who had helped a kitten down from a tree. You’d never forget the day the bitter taste of dandelion greens spread across your tongue, only to find San lying in bed, caving under the weight of his blue emotions. The best part of the connection, though, would be the buckets of love pouring into your bucket as he hugged, kissed and worshipped you. However, there was one emotion you hadn’t received any signs of.

Your fingers found purchase on the hem of his shirt that rode up his stomach and revealed a sliver of the toned skin beneath. “I don’t feel… your anger.”

San flashed you a blinding smile and spurts of daffodils curved around your heart. “That’s because nothing makes me angry, love.”

“Really? Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

A beat passed and you sighed, “I’m always angry.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re angry, just… frustrated.”

“It’s practically the same thing,” you argued and continued fiddling with his shirt. He captured your hands in his and halted your anxious picking.

“It isn’t, not by definition. We feel frustrated when we are unable to progress, while anger is the response to something we perceive as wrong or harmful… You’re not angry, my love, you’re frustrated and probably overworked too.”

Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you mulled over his words. It made sense, and you didn’t need to voice the comfort it brought you; he felt it. The unruly waves quieted to a steady push-and-pull, letting you breathe as the knot of emotions slowly untangled to nothing.

“You know, I’m supposed to be the older one out of the two of us.”

A hearty laugh filled the previously gloomy room, immediately illuminating the four cold walls, and San caught your waist again as he shifted, the echoes of his laughter filling the space.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. It'd be my honor to make you feel like a teenage girl again.”

That he did. It was almost embarrassing how his sweet gestures had you leaping face first into your pillows and rapidly firing your feet against the comforter. One would believe you were closer to being fifteen than thirty, and while you had a mild crisis, you were still grateful San brought that youthfulness out of you again.

“Was it a rough day?”

The sentimental moment burst like a fragile soap bubble at the slightest of touches. You took a breath of air and San slid his hand further up your wrists, placing his thumbs in the center of your palms while the remainder of his fingers wrapped around the back of your hand. It was grounding and kept you from re-visiting the gut wrenching thoughts that plagued your mind while tending to the young patient.

“A young guy was rushed to the ER… He got into a motorcycle accident and flew maybe a good ten meters from the crash place, and totally fucked up his leg. It was by sheer luck he didn’t suffer head injuries, let alone injuries to the rest of his body.”

You still saw the image of his bloodied body and torn clothes, a sight that would leave you with nightmares for days.

“He was in really critical condition, San. We couldn’t leave him alone for even one second. I’m talking about twenty four-hour care… He’s going into surgery tomorrow. He’ll survive, but it’s just... He reminded me of you. How you’re literally in danger every time you go to work and– and how easily I could lose– lose– lose–”

The words caught in your throat as your voice grew higher in pitch. San gave your hands another squeeze and pulled you back down onto him. You wasted no time burying your face in his neck and his arms automatically wrapped around you — one finding purchase at the back of your head while the other securely encircled your back.

“I don’t want to lose you, San.”

“You won’t lose me, love.”

“You don’t know that!”

“What I know is that I always do my best to come back to you in one piece. To my home, no?” The hand that had been placed against your head wrapped around the back of your neck and gently massaged it.

Like a flower opening up to catch the first few sun rays of the day, you put your heart out and allowed San a glimpse of what was inside.

“It just scared me,” you said between shuddering breaths. “Anything could happen, San, and I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you–”

“Honey.” His voice wasn’t stern, but it held a certain finality to it. As gentle as a newborn kitten, he carefully eased you back, pulling you away from where your face had been pressed against his neck. With a soft motion, he tilted your head slightly, getting a better look at your face.“Thinking of the what ifs isn’t good for anyone.”

You wanted to reply with an ‘I know’, but you knew better than to lie to him.

He wiped a stray tear off your cheek and you nuzzled against his palm. “Look, I love that you think you need me, but it’s not true. We managed more than fine on our own and just because we’ve found each other doesn’t mean we can’t function alone anymore… I love that you feel comfortable enough to lean on me, darling, but at the end of the day, you’re strong because of who you are and not because I’m here.

“And if, but just if, anything were to happen to me, I need you to know that you aren’t alone. You’d still have Haneul there. My parents. Your parents. Nurse Kim and Nurse Hwang too. That’s eight more people than me.”

Your hand enveloped his cradling your cheek. “I don’t want to think of a life without you in it.”

“Good because you’re stuck with me forever and ever and ever and ever!”

A wet giggle sounded through the living room and San’s rough chuckle blended perfectly with your sweet hiccups. Overwhelmed by the affection filling your humble abode, successfully warming every corner of the apartment, you intertwined your fingers behind San’s neck and determinedly pulled him into a heart-searing kiss. Your mouths molded together in a perfect fit, much like the famous art piece by Auguste Rodin. The sculpture representing a pair of lovers destined to remain together forever, until parted by death.

San breathed life into you with simple gestures that could restore chivalry. His eyes finding yours in a crowded room, silently checking up on you as you were both tugged in opposite directions by your mutual friends. Walking the empty streets after a successful date night, the gentle brush of his fingers skimming over yours before slipping between the gaps and pulling your hand into the pocket of his coat with the excuse of keeping you warm. Slothing his front to your back in the solitude of your home as you’d be too busy for a long cuddle session on the couch. Not to mention the kisses spread throughout the day—morning, noon, and night. He’d see you off with a peck and welcome you with the same sentiment, wishing you a good night or day before taking off.

The memories you collected during your still-new relationship pushed you forward, giving you hope and belief that you were going to get through this. San’s promise of never leaving — intentionally or unintentionally — comforted you and the dreadful thoughts hadn't returned, and hopefully, they wouldn’t ever. But if they ever did reoccur, you knew San would be there to chase them away.

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bearxgyeomie · 6 days ago

Text

Sparks and Bruises | Song Mingi

🥊 Summary: In a world where everyone at the age of eighteen gets a metal meter implanted on their wrist that shows the amount of danger your soulmate is in. You and Mingi have known each other since high school, but went through a nasty fallout after his love for boxing turned into a dangerous gamble with his life as the price. Years later, you stumble over his injured form on the doorstep of your apartment building. Not having the heart to turn him away like all those years ago, you invite him inside with the intention to clean his wounds, but get a lot more than you bargained for.

🥊 Pairing(s): Underground boxer!Mingi x Real estate agent!Reader, brief Hongjoong x Seonghwa

🥊 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, second chance AU, fluff, exes to friends to lovers, angst (more than what I planned on)

🥊 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), reader is allergic to peanuts so go with it for the plot, brief description of bruises and cuts, explicit language, crying, kissing, car accident, pet names (love, sugar, sweets), mentioned hospital, flashbacks, not beta read

🥊 Wordcount: 12.5K

🥊 Author's Note: Click the image for a better resolution (Tumblr I hate you). I just got off work (it's like 10 pm here), so I'm super tired and can barely keep my eyes open. Anyway, this is the last instalment of the Cherry Blossom March Event and while I'm sad it's over, I'm also happy because now I can focus on finishing my other stories!! A big thank you to everyone who took the time out of their day to read, leave notes and comments on my works <3 Btw I am no real estate agent and everything you read in this fic is based on excessive research (which could very well be wrong).

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is rated SFW, however it contains explicit scenes, not sexual content but descriptions of minor injuries as well as matures themes. Minors, please, read at your own risk and refrain from interacting or following my blog!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard

The arrow inside the plate on your wrist, no bigger than a lighter, irregularly traveled back and forth, going from one end of the meter to the other. For some, it would be worrisome and concerning, but for you, it was the opposite. You had yet to meet your soulmate. The person responsible for the occasional spike in your soulometer — the metal chip showing how much danger your soulmate was in. A mandatory procedure ordered by the government a couple of decades ago, probably one of the dumbest things the rulers of the world ever implemented into society.

“We have thought it over and… We’ll sign the contract!”

You were startled as the couple attending your showing returned from their not-so-private discussion on the other side of the kitchen. The faceless person you were supposedly destined to be with — as much as a machine could decide your destiny — occupied your thoughts more often than not, even while at work.

You put on your million-dollar smile and clasped your hands together. “Perfect. Shall we set a date for you to sign the papers then?”

The couple was expecting and in need of a bigger place than their flat, which could barely fit the two of them. After many buts and ifs, the newly wed pair eagerly agreed and a date was set. You didn’t usually have showings late into the night, but considering the husband worked early mornings until late evenings, and the wife wanted him to be present, you made an exception. Money was money, after all, and you were always in need of it.

Declining their offer to drive you home, you bid the happy couple goodbye and locked up after yourself. The apartment wasn’t too far from your place and you didn't think it would be necessary to order a cab for a ten minute walk despite it being quite late. The stiletto heels you decided to wear that morning made it feel like thirty instead and you quickly regretted being a cheapskate. Why did you have to make your life more insufferable than it already was? You only needed the sky to open up and let a waterfall of rain seep down on Seoul. At least you were smart enough to wear pants and a turtleneck instead of a dress or skirt. Despite it being late March where flowers decorated the bland parks and the trees grew out their long-awaited hair again, it felt like the start of winter.

“This is what you get for listening to Iggy Azalea,” you hissed to yourself as a familiar burn spread through your pinky toes and the back of your feet.

A crazed laughter cut through the chilly air and you automatically reached for the phone in your purse. Setting the ringtone as your best friend’s giggle was a good idea when you were still in high school and just recently turned eighteen. It wasn’t as fun when you were a woman of twenty-something-something years old with an image to uphold and your face plastered on a few boards all through town with your phone number scribbled beneath in big, bold font followed by a text literally begging people to reach out. You swore to change it every time someone called, but the thought always got lost in the shuffle of your other hundred tasks waiting to be done.

You braced yourself for it to be another client calling in the dead of night, but it turned out to be one of your saved contacts. Swiping right and putting the phone up to your ear, you answered with a tired, “Hello.”

“Finally! She answers!”

“Some of us still have work, Hongjoong. Do you know how many times I had to apologize for my ringtone?”

The identical maniac laugh recorded into your phone years ago, erupted from the device and you rolled your eyes.

“And yet you never change it. After all these years, you still have my voice as your ringtone… That’s quite romantic.”

“Watch it or I’ll have a wild Park come for my head.”

“Seonghwa would never do that.” You let the line fall silent and Hongjoong could hear your pointed look on the other side. “Okay, he probably would. Where are you anyways?! I can hear cars in the background.”

So the bass boosted headphones hadn’t ruined his hearing yet. All those times he ignored you were on purpose then. Good to know.

“I’m on my way home from work. Had a showing a few minutes ago and it went well actually.”

Another voice accompanied Hongjoong on the other line, but you couldn’t quite make out the words.

“Seonghwa is scolding you for not calling one of us to drive you home and I have to agree with him, sprout. It’s not safe to be out this late.”

The nickname sent you down memory lane dating all the way back to middle school, when you and Hongjoong were the shortest kids in class but didn’t let that hinder you from showing off your talents and wits. Hongjoong a smart kid who excelled in everything from math to musical history while you burned everyone in debates, presentations, speeches, basically anything relate to public speaking. Hence your choice of profession.

“I know, but it really slipped my mind and it’s not even that far from my flat, I promise. Like I’m almost there, just a few more minutes. I can practically see the building lights from here.”

“Good. Stay with me on the call until you enter though. Now, let me tell you about this guy who tried to steal my laptop…”

If he could, Hongjoong would have talked for hours which was quite rare. The man was usually drained from being cooped up in his studio all day, running on zero sleep and five iced coffees. It was in fact how you became friends.

The kid with round chipmunk cheeks and a menacing smile approached the girl sitting in the back of the class, not making a peep. Hongjoong kicked up a conversation by complimenting the pink bows in your hair — a little detail none of your other classmates had noticed, let alone found them pretty — and offering you a peanut butter cookie that you sadly had to decline because of your allergies. Instead of ending the interaction at your meek thank you, Hongjoong took it as an official proposition of becoming friends. Seven year old Hongjong refused to go back to his seat and even nearly threw a tantrum in class, leaving the homeroom teacher with no other choice than to make you seatmates.

You and Hongjoong quickly became a duo. Wherever you went, he followed. It marked the start of a long lasting friendship you wouldn’t trade for the world.

“...Can you imagine that?! He grabbed my stuff and proceeded to lie straight to my face!”

You hummed into the phone at his rambling. A smile graced your face as you neared your apartment building, but disappeared quickly. Hongjoong’s voice became background noise as you slowed down. A figure dressed in all black and a hood thrown over their head sat at the doorsteps. Both arms planted on their knees and head shoved into the palms of their hands. The person was on the taller side and looked quite buff beneath the baggy clothes. You didn’t recognize them as one of your neighbours, but the swooping feeling in your stomach hinted on something else.

Not heeding Hongjoong’s previous warning of being cautious, you decided to approach the stranger. The clicking of your heels interrupted the peaceful silence of the night and the person immediately looked in your direction. Sharp and angry eyes met yours, and the furious spark swirling in them morphed into surprise. Your heart jumped in your throat as you recognized the person. Of all the people in the world, you certainly didn’t expect to find him at your doorstep.

“Hongjoong? I’ll have to call you back.”

“What? Why? What happened?”

“Nothing– Or well, something, but nothing dangerous– I’ll just call you back okay?”

“...You sure?”

“Yes, one hundred percent.”

“Okay. Talk to you later then.”

You quickly pressed the red button and lowered your phone. The man was still staring at you, the fear that his imagination was playing a trick on him lingering. That if he looked away, you’d disappear from his line of sight.

Sweat spread along your palms and your pulse was loud in your ears as you walked up to the man.

“Mingi?”

He scrambled up to his feet and took hold of the railing with one hand while the other pressed against his left rib and a surprised wince slipped through his lips.

“Long time no see, huh?”

Your eyes darted all over him. Red and blue blemishes covered almost the entire surface of his face and trickles of sweat ran down the side of his face. You didn’t want to think what hid beneath his clothes.

The last time you saw him was all the way back in high school. A scrawny boy with legs for days, but the coordination of a newborn foal and a smile that lit up your world. The man before you grew into his big features and lost the youthful look. The pointy nose and plump lips were still there, but accompanied by prominent cheekbones, a sharp jaw, a piercing gaze and a chiseled face that wasn’t the shape of a triangle. His hair, once black and short, was now a dark shade of brown and longer than ever, reaching below his nape and bangs falling over his brows. A lot in his appearance changed, but the cuts and bruises remained, pouring acid on your tongue.

Ignoring the bitterness pooling in your stomach, you decided to keep the conversation civil. A stark contrast to how your last encounter went.

”Are you… alright?”

“Yeah, no, I was on my way home, but just needed to sit down…”

You weren’t going to pry despite clearly seeing he was anything but alright. If he didn’t want to tell you, who were you to force him?

Offering him a light smile, you tried keeping the tone light. “What are the odds of you sitting on my doorstep, huh?”

“Yeah… How long has it been since…”

“Four? Five? Five years.”

Mingi whistled lowly and a silence occupied the street. Everyone decided to stay in as no cars or other people lingered around. You wouldn’t say it was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t pleasant either and you didn’t know what to do. Leaving him out in the cold wasn’t an option, but inviting him didn’t sound right either. After a long fight between your brain and heart, you decided to listen to the beating organ in your chest.

“Wanna… come up? To my apartment.”

Mingi looked up at you through his fringe and the soft roundness to his eyes teleported you back to high school. Keeping your composure, you hastily added on to the sentence.

“T-To, to clean up and maybe have something to eat?”

Had someone asked you five years ago what you’d say to Mingi if the opportunity presented itself, you surely wouldn’t have invited him to your home or offered him a free meal. The most he’d get out of you would be a one-finger salute. Fast forward one thousand eight hundred and twenty five days and Mingi was lent a helping hand instead. It was enough time for you to mature into a more rational woman who could, for better or for worse, put her feelings aside and think with her brain.

Mirrors surrounded the entire inside of the elevator, even on the doors, and you held back from laughing at the reflection. There couldn’t have been an odder pair than you two. Mingi, dressed in all black with colorful blotches decorating his intimidating face, and you, wearing designer from head to toe. Even your bags were opposites — his a dingy gym bag that was a thread away from falling apart and yours from the recent Louis Vuitton collection. It was quite a funny look, but not a bone in your body vibrated with glee.

As the elevator doors closed and the mechanism carried you up the many flights of stairs, the reality dawned upon you. A multitude of questions you hadn’t thought of before inviting Mingi inside popped up like mosquitoes during summer nights — annoying, but unavoidable. The poor attempt of convincing yourself it was just a kind gesture, a friend helping a friend, you couldn’t shoo away the nagging fact that nothing of your and Mingi’s past was platonic. Shame and guilt curled in the pit of your stomach. Knowing your soulmate was out there somewhere, probably waiting for you, while you were cozying up to a man who wasn’t meant to be yours in the first place was sickening.

The ding of your arrival sounded through the speakers and you quickly went first with Mingi hot on your heels. Unlocking your front door, you threw the keys in a bowl the shape of a fish — a housewarming gift from Hongjoong — and stripped your outerwear. It was first when you put your stuff aside that you realized Mingi was still standing by the door and hadn’t moved since crossing the threshold. The man was shamelessly taking in his surroundings and you wondered what he thought of your apartment. Was it to his liking? Did it suit you? Did he like it? Why did you care?

“Uhm, you can just hang your stuff here,” you gestured to the coat rack mounted to the wall, “while I get dinner ready.”

You didn’t wait around to see him subtly nod, instead you made an escape to the safety of your kitchen. It was weird having Mingi over. It was weird being civil to one another. The tension was still there since your last encounter, like static in the air that wouldn’t really go away. The soft pad of feet grew louder and you threw a look over your shoulder to see Mingi in the doorway, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyes darting all over the place. Aside from his appearance, it seemed that his habits hadn’t changed — good as bad — but it wasn’t your place to pry. Not anymore.

“Is it alright if I… wash up now?”

A heat crawled up your neck and attacked your cheeks. “Y–Yeah, of course!” You cleared your throat and continued, “The bathroom is on the left of the hallway and there are towels in the cupboard above the washing machine.”

Mingi nodded, but didn’t budge from his spot. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and leaned against the doorframe to take on a relaxed posture, yet he looked anything but relaxed.

“I… I– Uhm, don’t… I kinda don’t have a spare set of clothes to change into…”

“Oh… Oh!”

“Yeah,” he inhaled sharply through his teeth, a low hiss escaping as he tried to ignore the stiff atmosphere.

“That’s alright! I think I have something you can use. Uhm, you can start washing up while I see what I can do.”

Rummaging through your closet for your brother’s clothes to lend Mingi wasn’t something you ever imagined doing in all your years of living, but here you were. Hunched over, searching like a madwoman for an extra hoodie and some basketball shorts or a pair of sweatpants that wouldn’t be too small on the giant currently occupying your bathroom. Your brother had been in your apartment a grand total of three times and by some stroke of luck, he’d left behind clothes he thought might come in handy for his next visit. Who knew they’d be useful for more than just that?

You didn’t find a hoodie, but you did spot a black compression shirt and a pair of matching sweatpants that would have to do. You just hoped they wouldn’t be too tight. To be on the safe side, you even snagged one of your brother’s boxers. It was one thing to share clothes and another thing to share underwear, but if you got to choose, you’d happily accept the fresh pair instead of reusing your sweaty undies. The choice was up to Mingi in the end. With the clothes neatly folded in your hands, you marched toward the bathroom and triple knocked on the door.

“Uh, I found some clothes you can use!”

The harsh drops of the shower abruptly stopped and you patiently waited for a response, but nothing came. You raised your hand, fingers balled into a fist, and as you swung it forward to knock again, the door suddenly opened. A cloud of steam escaped from the hot bathroom and Mingi’s very naked body appeared in the slight opening. His stomach was a perfect display of muscle, each of the six abs sculpted like marble. You would’ve ogled longer hadn’t the raspberry and plum colored blemishes covered a huge part of his toned skin. His hair dripped on the tiled floor and a white towel hung dangerously low on his hips. The warmth tickling your whole body evaporated into a numbing cold at the bruises. Swallowing nervously, you forced your eyes back up.

Mingi flicked his head sideways to move the wet strands from his face and his tongue darted out to lap at his dry lips, a motion you followed attentively. The raise of his brow, a silent question urging you to speak up, had you stumbling over your words.

“S–So, I... I, uh, found something you can… change into!”

The clothes were thrust harshly into his bare chest, and Mingi nearly dropped the towel in order to catch them. Before he could utter so much as a "thanks," you bolted back to the kitchen and whipped out leftovers from last night. Anything to keep you busy and distracted from the jaw-dropping image that refused to leave you alone. Mingi eventually joined you in the kitchen. He leaned against the counter beside the stove, where you guarded the kimchi stew from overheating, and crossed his arms over his chest. The already prominent muscles grew more defined beneath the tight fabric. It was difficult to ignore his gaze peering down at you, and you couldn’t decide if your cheeks flared from a natural bodily reaction or from the heat of the stove.

The circular table behind you was already set, with a pair of utensils and plates aligned opposite each other. You removed the pot and placed it in the center of the table, silently beckoning Mingi to take a seat. His hair was still wet, but not dripping and despite wearing clothes, you couldn’t muster up the courage to look him in the eyes. The late dinner was done in a deafening silence interrupted by the clink of utensils and lip smacking. Not able to bear the thickness in the air, you cleared your throat and asked the first thing to pop up in your mind.

“Um… do you... want me to treat your bruises?”

The confidence you spent years mastering and using in your daily life deflated like a dramatic balloon flying around the room until it fell limply on the floor. Mingi was mid shoving food into his mouth and froze as soon as the words reached his ears. His lips were parted enough for you to catch a glimpse of his slightly crooked front tooth and a wave of nostalgia hit you square in the nose. The man before you had changed so much, yet not at all.

Mingi took a bite of the kimchi and rice to buy himself time to think your proposal over. It wasn’t a bad shout as you did have experience treating his wounds considering you were the one tending to him back in high school. He slowly chewed and swallowed, and you were starting to regret ever opening your mouth.

“Sure,” he answered while giving his full attention to the bowl of stew before him and you couldn’t have been more relieved. He didn’t have to see the way you bit the inside of your cheek, tightly gripped your spoon or raised your brows to your hairline.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence and for once, you didn’t care if it wrapped around your throat and suppressed the air from entering your lungs. This was all so surreal. There wasn’t a day where you thought you’d be eating left-over kimchi stew with your ex-boyfriend and then agree to treat his wounds — the thing that drove you apart all those years ago. The universe worked in a funny way. Instead of bringing you closer to your soulmate, it led you straight to the past.

Putting the bowls in the sink, you gestured for Mingi to return to the bathroom while you put away the dishes. It hadn’t dawned on you that by helping Mingi treat his wounds, you’d have to merge your personal bubbles into one and actually touch him, even if it was as much as a graze of your fingertips along his skin.

Rounding the corner of the hallway and stopping before the entrance to the bathroom with a medkit in your hands, you were caught off guard by the image before you. Mingi was seated on the toilet lid, hunched over with his forearms resting on his thighs. You could see the top of his head — something you rarely did back in high school — as he faced the tiled floor. A swoop in your stomach urged you to run your fingers through his strands, but the impulse was quickly shut down. You stepped into the bathroom with feigned confidence. Mingi looked up as your sock-clad feet came into view, your big toes wiggling nervously. You placed the kit on the sink and grabbed the things you needed, starting with alcohol wipes. There wasn’t much you could do about the colored bruises already turning an ugly shade of yellow and purple, but the few cuts — like the one on his bottom lip and around his eyebrows — were easier to treat.

“This may sting,” you whispered, shuffling closer to him.

Mingi parted his legs to give you better access to his face. You put a finger beneath his chin and tilted it upward before gently dabbing the wipe against his brow ridge. A hiss filled the bathroom, but you didn’t stop cleaning the wound. Despite not being in this situation since high school, when Mingi would get his ass beat in the boxing ring and show up at your door with new cuts adorning his face every other weekend, you still remembered all the steps of the treatment. They were etched into your spine and controlled your limbs without a strain.

Your lips were pressed into a thin line, your brows almost touching from how deeply furrowed they were and Mingi wanted to smooth out the skin between them, but did no such thing. Instead, he diverted his attention elsewhere and focused on your lips, which he’d argue was the worse choice of the two. Scooping a generous amount of ointment on a Q-tip, you dabbed it on the cut and finished it off with a small band-aid that smoothly blended in with his hue. You tried to put off treating his lips, but apparently even Mingi had a limit to how many punches to the face he could take, and you eventually had to bite the sour apple and just get it over with.

It had been silent since you warned him about the sting from the alcohol wipes, broken only by a few of his grunts and hisses. Yet, the silence never felt as loud as it did in that moment when you cupped his chin in your left hand and stared intently at his plump lips. A determined heat swirled in your eyes and Mingi couldn’t look away. It took everything in him not to instinctively bite down on his bottom lip or run his tongue over it.

“Relax your lips,” you said, brushing your thumb along the bottom row.

You didn’t realize what you had done until a second later and Mingi couldn’t chuckle at your appalled expression, as he was equally frozen in place. Both of you were left wide-eyed, mouths hanging open and brains going haywire. A pleading sparkle glimmered in his dark eyes, but you refused to give in, keeping your focus on his lips — lips that were so kissable. Warmth washed over you and there was nothing you wanted more than for the ground to swallow you whole. The weight of his burning eyes was too heavy for you to bear, so you tried to redirect the attention by doing the one thing you did best — talking.

“Are you still fighting?”

It seemed to do the trick as Mingi broke out of the captivating spell. In an exhausted tone, the one you’d hear between a couple constantly bickering and reaching their end, he breathed out your name.

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

You hastily applied the ointment and retracted your hand, but Mingi was faster. He grabbed your wrist, his thumb landing on the soulometer in the quick act and an electric crackle burst where your skin connected. A beat or two passed before he decided to speak up.

“I am fighting, just not as much… I kinda feel bad for my soulmate.” The corner of his mouth pulled up in a faint smirk and a chuckle followed at his poor attempt of easing the awkward air.

Your heart dropped into your stomach and you didn’t think it was possible for it to go any further from there, but hearing the rest of his sentence proved you wrong. Before the hollow feeling could reflect on your face, you forced the corners of your lips up in a fabricated smile. An identical smile to the one caught in a multiple of billboards all over Seoul.

“I wish mine would do the same. They always seem to find themselves in some trouble.”

A thick gulp ventured down his throat and the shaking panic in his eyes morphed into a forced calm. “I’m sure if they knew you were this worried, they’d stop running headfirst into danger.”

Five years had passed since the soulometer was injected into your wrist, enough time for your soulmate to change their ways, to stop giving their other half constant fear every night. Yet, it wasn’t the distance or the lack of knowledge about each other’s lives that weighed on your heart. The true reason lay deeper — your soulmate simply didn’t care enough to stop or perhaps they lacked the means to break free from the dangerous path they’d chosen. It was never about being physically apart, but about the emotional distance — the helplessness of knowing that, despite everything, they continued to surround themselves with danger. You didn’t have the heart to confide in Mingi about it, to express the quiet ache you carried, because saying it aloud would mean admitting that the person you loved was still caught in a cycle they couldn’t escape, or didn’t want to.

Truthfully, Mingi was also the last person you wanted to confide in about the matter.

“I guess so.”

The brief and accidental encounter with Mingi was supposed to stay a long lost media in your brain, cluttered together with other minor memories. That was what you told yourself as Mingi left your apartment, sweaty clothes in a trash bag and belly full of warm leftovers. The version of him you remembered from all those years ago still lived on in your imagination, the bitter note of how everything ended, a constant reminder as to why the encounter should just be that — short, consistent and insignificant. As the morning sun peeked from between the high buildings and the dark sky bleed out to a baby blue hue, you’d return to your everyday life of selling apartments while the dishwasher rinsed the memory of what occurred in the space of your four walls.

The open PDF on the computer screen illuminated your face and the bazillion numbers would’ve been overwhelming if your mind wasn’t occupied by the thoughts of a certain man with feline-shaped eyes and annoyingly juicy lips. Whatever you did — drown yourself in work, spend time with Hongjoong and Seonghwa, try out the new restaurant in town — nothing was good enough to forget Song Mingi and that night. The situation just felt so right. A domestic reality you yearned for since you graduated high school and moved into your own flat. The wish to have someone by your side, to stuff your face in greasy food, stay up late at night and watch a plethora of rom-coms while cuddled up to them, and sleep until the sun was high in the sky. Mingi re-awakened those feelings you locked away in a chamber behind your heart.

A stack of papers fell on your desk with a thud and pulled you out of your wishful thinking. Jongho, your freakishly strong colleague, plopped down on a vacant plush sofa that was mainly there for clients to use while discussing potential deals.

“You excited to get drinks after work?” He asked, tugging on his perfectly made necktie.

You massaged your forehead, completely having forgotten about the collective outing you and your co-workers had every month. “Is that today?”

“Whoa, don’t tell me you, the most unforgettable person I know, forgot about our end-of-the-month-party!? Woo is gonna have a blast when I tell him!”

Jongho didn’t question your sudden loss of memory at first. The younger agent found the situation perfect for a round of teasing or perhaps even as future blackmail material. Concern flashed in his eyes when you made no attempt to defend your honor and instead buried the rest of your face in the palms of your hands.

“Hey… is everything… alright?”

“Yeah… No? I don’t know.”

Something was really wrong because you were never tired. In fact, Jongho had never seen you without a smile or a spring in your step. You were always collected, whether it was your clothes, hair or mood. Fire alarms went off in his head and plans be damned if he didn’t at least try to figure out what was going on. It was easier said than done, though, because he didn’t know how to approach the topic and ended up sitting there with his mouth parted like a fish out of water. The overthinking was starting to trigger a headache, so he settled on the simplest, but hopefully, most effective question he could think of.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Your reply was instantaneous. “I need to not think about it.”

A mischievous gummy smile spread across his face. “You just signed yourself up for regret, my dear friend.”

As you were about to ask to elaborate, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out for the biggest menace in the company.

“Wooyoung-ya!”

Albeit curious, the pair didn’t try to fish out context clues or the story behind your emotional state. Wooyoung lived up to Jongho’s promise of making you regret joining them for drinks and it didn't stop there. They both continuously visited your office throughout the rest of the shift. Wooyoung would nonchalantly enter the room as if he didn’t have anything up his sleeve, step up to the window and inspect the wilted plant burning up from being in the sunlight for too long, when he was actually throwing you curious glances from the corner of his eye. Then, before quickly taking his leave, he’d subtly slide you a packet of gummies and run as if his life depended on it. One would believe you were engaging in some shady transaction that would definitely make you both lose your real estate license.

Jongho was a different story. The youngest of the trio wasn’t good with his words, but the affection could be read through his actions. Although they were questionable. He, too, invaded your room in subtle fashion and touched everything that didn’t require human contact — your Sanrio figurines, picture frames, ornaments still up from Christmas. While it was annoying in the moment, their antics kept you from circling back to the one person who had made his grand return after five years of radio silence. Good thing you hadn’t planned on rekindling that flame ever again. But what was written in your calendar didn’t align with the universe.

The happy hour had ended a while ago, and while Jongho and Wooyoung made sure to get you home first, your stomach rumbled the second you stepped foot into the apartment. What better meal to have in a tipsy state than some ramen?

The trip to the corner shop was supposed to be quick and relaxing — a weak attempt to distract yourself from the headache blooming at the back of your head. Perhaps that was why you weren’t fully aware of your surroundings, stumbling into racks displaying different flavors of chips and accidentally knocking things out of place. You purposefully ignored the scorching gaze of the cashier and hastily moved to hide between the aisles. But what you didn’t expect was for another figure to round the opposite corner, causing you to bump headfirst into them. The ramen cups and energy drinks piled up in their basket tumbled to the floor, and you quickly crouched down to gather as many things as your arms would allow.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

The person didn’t say anything and you expected them to be very annoyed, but that wasn’t the case. The familiar face looking down at you with a tight-lipped smile caused you to freeze on the spot.

“Hey.” Mingi flared his fingers in what was supposed to resemble a wave, but it came off more awkward than intended.

A painful cramp fluttered at the back of your neck as the position wasn’t the most comfortable, your head craned uncomfortably as you looked up at him, the strain making it feel like it might snap at any moment. Yeah, the university wasn’t on your side.

“Here.”

He knelt down to be at your level, though it would never really match, and urged you to place the belongings in the basket. It was impossible to tear your eyes from him, but Mingi didn’t notice your stare as he gathered the unscattered snacks and drinks in the carrier. Once was a coincidence, twice is a pattern, you thought and swallowed thickly.

“Alright, let’s stand up.”

He rested his arm on his propped-up knee, while the other hand was held out for you to take. On a count of three, you both stood up simultaneously and your hand immediately returned to your side.

“What are you doing here?”

The question came off more like an interrogation than a casual inquiry and you winced at your loose tongue. Mingi didn’t seem to care though.

“Nothing much, just wanted a late night snack.” As if you didn’t understand, he grabbed one of the ten ramen cups in his basket and gently shook it. The contents rattling together and overpowering the whirring sound of the freezers. “What about you?”

“Ah, same here…”

Mingi glanced down at your empty hands and smacked his lips together, “Cool.”

“Yeah…”

The young cashier who couldn’t be older than a high school graduate nearly suffocated from the sudden thickness in the convenience store.

“Uhm, you gonna get anything?”

“What? Oh! Right! Let me just…” You trailed off and darted over to the refrigerators, grabbing the first thing that came into view.

You snagged a bag of shrimp chips on your way back too. Banana milk and shrimp chips, what a combination! The reasons for your late-night adventure had started with the craving for ramen, but somewhere between the aisle mishap and the distraction of other snacks, the noodles had been completely forgotten. In the meantime, Mingi moved over to the cashier register and patiently waited for the kid to scan his items.

You shuffled behind him and Mingi turned sideways, one of his brows cocked up. “Here, give me that.”

Before you could protest or dodge his advances, the items in your hands were stolen from beneath your nose and placed on the counter.

“Hey, no, I can pay for that.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Mingi–”

“I said don’t worry about it.” There was a certain finality to his tone that told you there was no point in further arguing. Mingi swiped his card as the cashier packed your things in two separate plastic bags.

Standing outside the Seven-Eleven, you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your coat, the handles of the bag clinging to your wrist. “You didn’t have to do that. I can pay for myself.”

Mingi’s breath escaped in a cloud of vapor, lingering in the cold air before it dissolved into the sky. The corner of his mouth lifted into a one-sided grin.

“I know.”

Never letting you pay for anything was just another addition to the long list of habits he still clung to since high school. Mingi really hadn’t changed, and you couldn’t deny the disappointment that settled in as you witnessed it.

“Good. Then I’m leaving now. Good night.” You turned on your heel and began walking in the direction of your home.

“W–Wait! Let me walk you home.”

You didn’t spare him a glance. “No need for that. This is one of the safest neighborhoods in Seoul, actually.”

Another ‘I know’ died on his lips. If anyone on this earth knew how out of danger you were, it would be Mingi.

“T–That’s good, but... it would help me sleep at night if I knew you got home safely.”

After all this time, you still had a hard time telling him no. Sighing, you shrugged your shoulders in defeat, your resistance crumbling despite yourself. “Fine, you can walk me home.”

The walk was short, but lasted longer than ever and you were regretting your choices of not standing your ground against him. You would never admit it out loud, but his dimpled smile and two moles were your greatest weakness and there was no way you’d ever win against them.

Mingi cleared his throat. “What have you been up to? You know, since high school.”

“Have you thought about what college to apply for?” Mingi asked and intertwined his fingers across his abdomen.

“I don’t know,” you told him truthfully.

You lay on the grass, staring up at the night sky. The black canvas was dotted with a million, billion stars, leaving no space untouched. It had been Mingi’s idea to go stargazing, but considering neither of you had a driver’s license or the energy to trek up a mountain in the middle of the night, you figured the view wouldn’t be any different from your backyard.

He turned to you and followed the outline of your profile. God, you were beautiful. “Really? How come?”

“I don’t know. I feel like there are so many options, like how will I know what’s good for me.”

“Whatever you choose, sugar, you’ll figure it out. You always do.” Now it was your turn to face him and he flashed you a reassuring smile.“Sometimes, the best choice is the one that feels right in the moment.”

“...Being with you feels right.”

Nothing could compare to back then. Sure, you experienced fleeting moments of happiness, but they didn’t last longer than the life of a snowflake. Did Mingi ask that to see if you were still stuck in the past? If your time together was the peak of your happiness? He didn’t get to do that. To slither his way into your heart and admire everything you had been through without him by your side.

“Nothing special. I’m a real estate agent, so I’ve been busy selling houses and apartments.”

“Nothing special my ass. That’s amazing. But what is expected of the smartest girl in our high school, huh? I always knew you’d achieve great things.”

Blood pooled beneath your cheeks, burning hotter than a fever of thirty-nine degrees, and you hated how, despite everything, he still turned you into a giddy high school girl who made eye contact with her crush. To be fair, it wasn’t too far from the truth and that was a scary realization on its own. All it took was a measly compliment and you turned to mush.

“What about you? What are you doing these days?”

A silence stretched between you far heavier than anything you had ever felt before. It was as if the question had torn through some fragile barrier, leaving him exposed. His eyes, once sharp and filled with glee, now seemed distant, as though searching for something lost. You could feel the weight of the pause, like a storm brewing in the space between you. What was he really doing these days? More importantly, what had he been doing all this time out of your reach?

“A little bit of everything. Anything I can get my hands on, really.”

“You didn’t study after high school?”

“You know school wasn’t my strongest suit. Stuffy classrooms and obnoxious teachers talking my ear off never got me anywhere, I mean, I barely passed high school. I was more comfortable with my hands in motion and figuring things out as I went. School was ever it for me. It always felt like I was waiting for something that never came.”

Mingi wasn’t wrong. Although he was a smart kid, staying awake studying until the dead of night and then working an underpaid nine-to-five job wasn’t for him. But you couldn’t shake away the bitterness of how he threw away the opportunity of a normal life with you for a bloody ring and a life of unpredictability. The punches he took in that world weren’t just physical — they hit somewhere deeper, somewhere you couldn’t reach. You had always wanted something more stable, something real to hold on to, but Mingi had chosen the chaos, the fight, over everything else. Perhaps that was why the universe decided not to tie your red string to his pinky, knowing it would hurt you more than his decision.

Coming to a stop outside your apartment, the memory of your first encounter after a few years still fresh in your mind.

“Like boxing?”

Mingi’s eyes softened, but he didn’t speak, his mouth pressing into a thin line. The silence between you both was heavy, filled with things unsaid. It was the kind of silence that made your heart ache, knowing that there was so much left unresolved between you, yet you couldn’t find the words to fix it.

“Good night, Mingi,” you finally said, taking a shaky breath as you turned back to your door again.

The finality in your tone hung in the air like a weight neither of you could lift. You didn’t look back as you reached for the door handle, but you knew Mingi was still there, standing in the same place, holding onto the same regrets.

Reaching your apartment, you flicked on the lights and quickly discarded your outerwear. You turned on the switches in every room and placed the bag of goods on the kitchen table.

Disappointment fueled every movement. Grabbing a pot from the lower cupboard, you filled it with water, not caring as it splashed everywhere. When you set it down on the stove, you didn’t bother being careful, letting it thud onto the surface. You waited — oh-so-patiently — for the water to reach its boiling point and shoved a hand into the plastic bag. The expected rustling of plastic and cold drinks didn’t come. Instead, you felt the hard, smooth texture of something else. Knitting your brows together, you took hold of the square object, no bigger than a container of pudding.

In your palm was a plastic box of peeled and cut oranges.

Your head rested on your folded arms, eyes cast on the baby-blue sky taunting you from behind the windows. It was a beautiful day. What a shame you were stuck in a room with thirty other kids and no air conditioning. Your homeroom teacher was late — an uncanny occurrence, considering she always emphasized the importance of being on time and never failed to follow through. Until today.

The door to the classroom slid open with a thud, but the class had yet to quiet down, and by that single reaction, you knew it wasn’t Ms. Choi who had entered. The previously loud chatter of your friend group turned into hushed whispers and skittish snickers that reached your ears, but you didn’t bother to see what had gotten them so giggly. It was probably Jihoon, the new boy in class, who effortlessly managed to twirl every girl around his finger with just a look. He wasn’t your type — you preferred them tall, lanky, and clumsy. Jihoon was on the shorter side and had muscles that seemed unnatural for a sixteen-year-old. Plus, you weren’t into soccer boys. No, your style was more martial arts.

A hand, twice the size of yours, appeared out of nowhere and placed a clementine — your favorite fruit — on your desk, just inches from your face. Your eyes widened, staring at the bright fruit in disbelief. Groggily, you pushed away from the comfortable spot against the desk, only to quickly notice the figure looming over you.

Song Mingi.

“You skipped lunch,” he stated nonchalantly, offering an explanation for the sudden appearance of the fruit.

The muffled squeals of your friends, combined with Mingi’s unexpected act of chivalry, sent heat rushing to your cheeks, leaving you flustered and unsure of how to react. Gift-giving and small acts of service weren’t foreign between you and Mingi. He always seemed to know your cravings, bringing you peeled fruit and sugary snacks without you ever having to ask. In return, you tended to his cuts, massaged the tension from his neck and shoulders after heavy training, and always seemed to find ways to care for him without words. But that was done in private, never in public. Especially not in front of your friends who were having a field day with his new revelation.

“Ah,” Mingi breathed out, picking up the orange once more.

Silently, he peeled off the thin skin, revealing the vibrant fruit hidden beneath. But he wasn’t done yet. With a casual movement, he stuffed the citrus-scented rind into the pocket of his school uniform before carefully removing the white pith wedged between the clementine’s segments. You didn’t like the white parts. His towering form caught the attention of the rest of the class and by now everyone intently watched the exchange.

The clementine looked bare now. He held out the fruit again, waiting for you to extend your hand, careful not to let it touch the surface of your desk. A yellowish stain colored his nails, a discoloration that wouldn't fade with just one wash, and the acidic smell lingered, even stronger now. It was the main reason you didn’t like peeling them in the first place.

Mingi, having heard your confession a few weeks ago, made it his mission to always give you peeled oranges. It warmed your chest to know he was keeping that promise.

Apparently, the universe wasn’t satisfied with your first and second encounters because the third one happened just a little less than a week later. You were meeting up with Hongjoong and Seonghwa at a nearby cafe to catch up on the hecticness of your lives — also known as gossip about your workplaces and bonding over the latest episode of When Life Gives You Tangerines. The name of the drama threw you down a steep hill of memories, but you stood up, dusted off your knees and trekked back up. You didn’t want to associate him with the family of fruit anymore.

The clock had just passed five-thirty AM and you were supposed to be there ten minutes ago. It didn’t help that you hit every red light possible. At least the weather was nice. Not a single cloud occupied the baby-blue sky and the spring breeze scattered butterfly kisses along your body. It could’ve been worse. You thought of gloomy clouds and cold rain, and immediately shuddered. Yeah, it definitely could’ve been worse.

The breath caught in your throat as a bus sped by, just a little over the limit. You exhaled in relief as it passed, but that relief was short-lived when you locked eyes with none other than Mingi on the other end of the sidewalk. It felt as if the universe were laughing in your face, throwing everything you didn’t want right at you. You’d take gloomy clouds and rainy weather over seeing Mingi again. The worst part was that it was a lie because even in the stormiest times, he managed to light up your surroundings, and the erratically beating heart in your chest served as your witness.

A black hoodie swallowed his towering frame and a pair of chunky headphones covered his head. You couldn’t see him that well, but you assumed the shining reflection around his collar was from his stacked necklaces. The cuts along his face had healed nicely — in fact, they were completely gone — and you wondered if your last encounter had anything to do with it or if he had just gotten better at dodging flying fists.

You always seemed to end things on a bitter note, yet you ignored the sourness on your taste buds and raised your hand in a small wave. He returned it with a tight-lipped smile and a subtle tug of his headphones, letting them rest around his neck instead. Mingi bit down on his bottom lip, seemingly contemplating something. Coming to terms with his thoughts, he raised a finger, wordlessly telling you to wait and threw a quick glance at the red light as if it would hurry up from a single look. Although you had every right to ignore him, you just couldn’t. You had always been weak when it came to him, never really able to tell him no and it appeared some things just never changed.

Mingi’s face lit up as the light turned to green. The man was so eager to cross the street — to get to you — that he didn’t bother checking both sides before walking out. Unlike the others, he missed the speeding vehicle zooming through multiple red lights and showing no signs of stopping. You felt it before you saw it. The spike in your left wrist, the rush of the arrow sky rocketing from zero to a hundred. Your legs moved on their own before you could form the first letter of his name. One moment you were rooted to the ground, eyes wide and mouth parted, and in the next you harshly collided with Mingi, hoping your spurt of strength was enough to knock him off balance and away from the dangerous metal chunk on wheels.

The world didn’t stop spinning, but time slowed down as Mingi fell backward. His hand came up to cradle your head, while the other slithered around your waist. Your own arms were pressed against his chest from the push you gave him. The landing was harsh, but Mingi took most of it as his back slammed against the pavement and your face became buried in the crook of his neck and shoulder. The passersby approached you with questions of worry and concern, their faces etched with confusion and anxiety at the entire situation. Everyone was a bit shaken up at the tragedy that could’ve been. Your body refused to cooperate and the only thing you could do was tangle your fingers into the material of his hoodie, clinging to it for dear life, trying to distinguish reality from imagination. How cruel — he had just returned to your life, only to almost be taken out of it again, permanently.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his fingers massaging your scalp as the other hand scrunched up the back of your shirt.

A stutter of words slipped out, none of which Mingi could make sense of. He sat up, trying to get a better look at you, but you refused to part from the comfort of his chest. You didn’t need to see it to know your soulometer had calmed down — you felt it in every fiber of your being. Your soulmate was safe, and you were too, now that you were in the arms of a living, breathing Mingi.

“Please, sweets, I need to know if you’re alright.”

Desperation dripped from his voice like sticky honey falling from a dipper and it struck sharply in your core, bringing you back to the present.

“Okay,” you mumbled against his clothes, just loud enough for it to reach his ears and Mingi exhaled in relief. He pressed a kiss on your hairline and your heart fluttered at the domestic gesture.

A couple of strangers offered to call an ambulance, but Mingi waved them off, saying it wasn’t necessary and that no one was harmed — just a bit shaken up. He thanked them nonetheless and it did the trick as the crowd dissolved, the people returning to their everyday life, but with a story to slap down on the dinner table.

Mingi placed a palm beneath your left thigh as the other went around your waist to keep you sturdy as he got up from the pavement. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

It didn’t matter how much you wanted to tell him to let you down, that you could walk on your own and didn’t need a chaperone — the words wouldn’t roll off your paralyzed tongue. Feeling the stares of strangers burn into you, you hid your face in the crook of his neck and didn’t pull away until you were safely in your apartment. The entire journey home, you tried to wrap your head around the event: the near-death experience, your body taking over while your mind went slack, the sudden spike in your soulometer. You didn’t dare think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t reached Mingi in time — if you were just a second too late, if you hadn’t noticed the car. A shiver ran down your spine, and you pressed your lips together to distract yourself from the tears threatening to soak Mingi’s hoodie.

You needed a distraction from the what-ifs, and you needed one pronto. Trying to focus on something other than Mingi being flattened by that stupid car, you racked your brain for something, anything else, when it suddenly hit you. In all the seven years you had your soulometer, it had never even grazed, let alone pushed hard against the other end of the scale.

Back inside your apartment, you plopped down on the sofa and dropped your head into your hands. A throbbing ache pulsed through every part of your head, and the constant buzzing of your phone wasn’t helping. You had an inkling of who it could’ve been, and as you fished it out of your bag, the hundreds of messages and missed calls from both Seonghwa and Hongjoong confirmed your suspicion. You sent them a reassuring text, apologizing for bailing on them and blaming it on your headache. Mingi was leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest, and his feet crossed at the ankles. His eyes never left your hunched form. He was waiting — for a call, a sign, something that would tell him when to reach your side and offer his help.

In another life, you’d be flustered — happy, ecstatic that he was there, worried for your well-being, wanting to make you feel better. But the nagging thought of the situation — too perfect to be a coincidence — wouldn’t let you go. What were the odds of your soulmate and Mingi both being exposed to danger at the same time? How was it that Mingi’s body was void of bruises just as your soulometer stopped acting up?

Licking your lips, you inhaled shakily and found Mingi’s gaze. The pull to be wrapped in his arms was strong, almost unbearable and you wondered if he felt it too. The need to run your fingers through his hair, to rest your forehead at the junction of his neck and shoulder while he soothingly rubbed circles in your back. The feelings were more intense than back in high school, now full of want and need that you couldn’t satisfy by being in his mere presence. However, you were willing to put it aside in exchange for your question marks to disappear and there was only one person who could give it to you.

Your voice was raspy and weak, breaking mid-sentence as the words struggled to escape. With every ounce of vulnerability, you asked him, “Are we soulmates?”

Mingi didn’t move for a moment. He looked to the side, his jaw clenching as he uncrossed his arms and gripped the edge of the counter. It was inevitable, really. The question was bound to come up sooner or later, and he wasn’t a fool. Mingi didn’t live in a bubble separate from his worries. They were woven into his everyday life, especially since you’d crossed paths again after all these years, with you at the center of them. The anxiety hovered around you like planets orbiting the sun — always there, needing you to survive, but never able to get too close. Mingi never stopped thinking about you. Since your high school graduation, he’d found himself more often than not lying awake in the dead of night, thoughts circling back to you — wondering how you were, what you were doing, if you were happy. You had to be. Mingi only ever brought you pain and hurt, something he loathed himself for. The lies and secrets were the main reason behind it all, but the icing on the cake was his devotion to boxing, which had long surpassed his love for you. At least, in your eyes, because that was what he had allowed you to see — what he wanted you to think. It would make the end of your relationship easier, giving him a lie to hold onto instead of the truth.

But Mingi was tired of lying. He didn’t plan to re-enter your life to keep the same pattern in motion. He wanted to start a-new and whether he deserved it or not was up for debate, but he was going to try. For you. For himself. For your relationship.

“Yes.”

Then it all just stopped. The beat of your heart filled the silence of the world. The flicker of emotions was instant and irregular — shifting from relief and happiness to disbelief and anger. You couldn’t form a single thought, much less say anything. What could one say in such a moment? Realising your first and only love was more than that and had slipped away. The never ending fear and regret of losing the sole good thing in your life washing out to nothing, leaving you empty. It was good and bad. A war broke out in your head, scrambling to come to an understanding, but the tear between the two sides was so grave it was starting to hurt. The relief of finding your soulmate clashed with the idea that he was right beneath your nose this entire time, purposefully avoiding you for who knows how long.

A sting burned behind your eyes followed by a heavy pressure. Your throat closed up and yet you managed to get your question out.

“How… How long have you known?”

Mingi heaved in a breath. The weight of the situation pressed harshly against his chest as he realized the bear trap he set up years ago was beneath his foot.

“A little after the start of our third year in high school… When you were rushed to the hospital.”

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Someone thought it would be a funny prank to leave an opened peanut-chocolate bar in your locker, completely disregarding the gravity of the situation. That was almost a month after his eighteenth birthday — the day his soulometer was permanently injected into his body. Out of those three years, you dated for one and a half, and the last stretch of your relationship was apparently built on secrets and lies because he knew.

He knew and didn’t tell you.

You rose from your seat, your expression shifting from disbelief to frustration. Your brows furrowed, and your lips were pressed tightly together in fury. Mingi had never seen you so angry — not even when some older kids were making fun of Hongjoong for his height or liking boys.

“Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me about it? Mingi, we broke up and you didn’t think to tell me we were, are soulmates?!”

Your voice jumped from a whisper to full-out yelling, loud enough for your neighbors above and below to indulge in the dramatics, and Mingi flinched at the sudden rise in volume. A fire spread from his core to the rest of his body, growing hotter and more intense with each passing second. Despite how familiar the sensation was, it wasn’t his. You were angry beyond salvaging and no amount of water could douse the flames.

Mingi’s chest tightened as the answer to your long-awaited question tumbled out of him. “Because you deserved a better soulmate!”

Like that, a weight lifted off his shoulders. There was a very long pause where you just stared at each other, both waiting for the other to speak.

“Excuse me?” It was meek, barely above a whisper as you spoke and a sharp, breaking sound echoed in Mingi’s heart, like porcelain shattering. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Mingi hesitated, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words. You seized the opportunity to step in front of him. Unshed tears lined your waterline, one blink away from spilling over and kissing your burning cheeks. Mingi wasn’t any better. His eyes were glossed over and throat was dry. His fingers turned an alarming shade of white from gripping the counter, the veins in his hands more defined than ever.

“Why?”

“You weren’t happy with me…” Mingi’s voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes as he struggled to continue. “W–with me boxing… and I… I wasn’t ready to give up on that. I thought you d–deserved some happiness before you realized you were stuck with me f–forever.” His words came out choked, his chest heaving as the tears finally spilled over.

The salty tears extinguished the fire that had been brewing in you. What had felt like flames of hell now shrunk to nothing more than a spark, ready to fade. You reached out, your hands trembling slightly as you cupped his face, gently wiping away the tears that had fallen.

“You thought I wouldn’t choose you? Mingi, I was never asking you to give up on what you love. I just couldn’t stand seeing you put yourself in danger, not knowing if you’d come back to me… alive.” Your heart ached as the soulometer inside you throbbed painfully, a constant reminder of how deeply connected you two were.

Mingi had grown up in a boxing family. His father was a boxer, and his grandfathers on both sides were boxers too. It was only natural for the only child of the Song family to step into his relatives’ shoes and fall in love with the gruesome sport. However, it wasn’t the officiated matches or light sparring during training that had you worrying for Mingi. A little after Mingi turned eighteen, he realized that his talent could not only bring him medals, but money. A great sum of money, actually.

As the fortune started to come his way, you began to notice the change in him. He wasn’t just fighting for the thrill or the legacy anymore — it had become a business. The sport he had once loved, the sport that had connected him to his family, was now something more — something dangerous, something that had started to consume him. You watched as he took on bigger opponents, harsher training regimens and increasingly dangerous matches, all in pursuit of a prize that was slowly tearing away at the person you once knew.

You didn’t mean to put him in a tight spot, to choose between his first serious girlfriend and the illegal business that kept him independent. You also didn’t expect him to choose the latter. The decision stung more than you anticipated, the weight of it sinking in as you realized what it said about his priorities.

You were both young and foolish back then, believing the world was beneath your feet and that one wrong decision could crumble it all. Had you known you were bonded, tied together for all eternity, you would’ve approached him differently and you certainly never would’ve let him go.

“I didn’t know about the soulmate bond. I didn’t know you knew... and you still let me walk away. You were willing to let me go without telling me the truth? How could you think I’d leave you forever, knowing we were meant to be?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I–I swear, I wanted to tell you. So many times. Every time I’d walk past your posters or hear about you from our mutual friends, I’d be one click away from calling you, but…”

The apology hung in the air like a weight, thick with guilt and regret. His voice trembled, each word choked back by the raw emotion clawing at him. The tears streamed down his face, unchecked. He turned his face slightly, the side of his cheek brushing against your palm, as if trying to hide from the pain, but your touch remained steady. You held him there, gently, as his sorrow poured out.

“Don’t hold back, Mingi. I’m not going anywhere, not now, not tomorrow, not ever… So please, talk to me.”

His chest hitched as he struggled to breathe, the weight of the words, the silence and the years of unsaid things crashing over him. Mingi knew he owed you this. An explanation, a reason for his sudden pull back all those years ago. He heaved in a breath and allowed the truth to spill.

“I just… I couldn’t,” he whispered. “Every time, I’d think about it and then–then I’d back out. I thought it was better this way. I thought maybe you’d be better off without knowing… that I wasn’t good enough, that I’d only mess things up. Jongho said you were ha–happy and I didn’t want to ruh–ruin that. ”

“You could never–”

“But I would!” He didn’t mean to shout, but the frustration and sadness, locked up for so long, didn’t hesitate to seize the first opening it saw. “I was still fighting… I never stopped. It only got worse after… after we broke up. The money was good, but the loneliness,” his voice wavered, “the loneliness was unbearable. The only time I ever felt anything was when I saw your face... or when I got beaten to hell.”

Your eyes darted around his face. Jumping from his eyes and lips to his nose and cheeks as if seeking a pressure point that would make all of his suffering evaporate into thin air. Mingi avoided your gaze and you massaged the apple of his cheek to catch his attention again. You never intended for the downfall of your relationship to put its claws in his back and leave a wound so grave it couldn’t heal on its own. In fact, you were so caught up in your own emotions that you didn’t think to take a moment and wonder how it would affect him. The guilt festered in your bones like a leech refusing to let go.

“I never realized how much you were carrying… I thought I was the one who was struggling, but maybe we both were. I’m sorry, Mings.”

“No.”

He shook his head in disagreement and your hand fell from his face. The loss of warmth was close to painful and Mingi, not wanting to be apart from you any more than necessary, grabbed your hand and guided it down to his chest, placing your palm above his beating heart — the organ that pulsed in rhythm to your own. Your fingers twitch to grab his shirt, to claw out his heart and keep it in the safety of your hands. To shield it from hurt and pain and agony. You never wanted him to feel such anguish again and you certainly didn’t want to be the reason behind it either. It tore you from within and the emotion wasn’t even yours to begin with.

“It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.”

“Mingi–”

“Stop it. You know if I’d just listened to you, if I’d stopped getting involved in stupid shit, none of this would’ve happened. There’s no one to blame but me.”

Tears still rolled down his cheeks and clung onto his lashes, though his eyes were sharp and firm as if daring you to challenge his words. If there was one thing you’d learned during the few years you dated Mingi, it was that once his mind was made up, nothing could change it.

“We are both at fault, love.”

The pinched expression on his face crumbled at the familiar call of endearment. His mouth parted slightly, and a constellation twinkled in his eyes — a sight you had missed incredibly. A twinge of hope flickered to life — hope that you could once be again, despite his careless acts of selflessness. His focus shifted between your eyes and with shaking hands he gently cradled your face, his touch not lighter than a ticklish flutter of a butterfly’s wings. Your own hands found purchase on his waist, fingers looping through the pouch of his hoodie as you instinctively leaned into the gentle pressure of his caress.

Mingi wetted his lips and brows scrunched together in a pleading demeanor. Something was plaguing his mind again and you could feel the train of thought reach out and graze your own, as if wanting you to get a glimpse. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t pleasant either. It felt full, crowded.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Mings?”

“…You.” He took another breath, steadying himself, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I… May I… I want to kiss you.”

Perhaps you should’ve said no. Perhaps you should’ve ignored him sitting on the steps of your apartment. Perhaps you shouldn’t have let him back into your life at all. But the thought of telling him no — robbing yourself of the feel of Mingi’s lips against yours — burned like hot acid in your stomach. So you did the one thing you were best at when it came to him, you gave in to your heart's desire.

“Then kiss me.”

Mingi didn’t need to hear you say it twice before he pulled your face up to his, lips smashing together as a flood of emotions erupted with the kiss — the kind of feeling only a romantic gesture like this could bring. You rose onto your toes, your hands gripping his wrists as if to anchor yourself in the moment. A low rumble vibrated from the back of his throat and you pushed harder against him. The kiss was intoxicating, yet liberating at the same time. You swiped your tongue along his bottom lip and he wasted no time parting them for you. The heat between you both deepened and each moment felt like it stretched on forever, the world around you fading into the background. His fingers grazing the side of your face, pulled you impossibly closer, as if there was no space left for anything but this shared intimacy.

The pounding of your heart filled your ears, a frantic rhythm that matched the urgency of his touch. You were caught in the gravity of the moment, caught between the need for air and the undeniable pull to stay, to keep kissing him like nothing else mattered and nothing mattered. Just you and him.

You felt one of his hands slither down your spine, a trail of firecrackers following the wake of his fingertips and sending shivers down your body. You couldn’t pull away — not yet. Not when everything inside you was screaming for more. Mingi pushed you closer to him, chests touching and hips meeting in a delicious press, that radiated between you both, causing every nerve in your body to hum with anticipation.

It was the need for oxygen that eventually broke you apart before the heated situation could be taken to the bedroom, with you pushed against the soft sheets and your legs tangling together. Your chests rose and fell in synchrony, trying to steady the breath that had been stolen in the heat of the moment. A crackle of electricity snapped around the room, the atmosphere still charged with the energy of your kiss, but both of you knew you couldn’t rush past this — there was so much more to say, the fact that you were soulmates, for one.

Mingi rested his forehead against yours, his breath was warm against your skin, quick and shallow, mirroring your own racing pulse. His eyes searched yours with a mix of intensity and vulnerability. He whispered your name, as if unsure how to bridge the distance between the desire in his chest and the emotions that were beginning to surface.

“We are soulmates,” you whispered before he could say anything else. It was more of a statement, a wake-up call for you than a fact. Your gaze dropped to the strings of his hoodie, the intensity of his stare made your knees feel weak.

Mingi didn’t reply. He rubbed gentle circles over your blouse on your lower back, a relaxing motion. You didn’t need to hear him say the two worded apology, you felt it in his soft touches.

“It was you… every time my meter went up… it was you fighting.”

He nodded, a solemn smile gracing his swollen lips. “Yes.”

“...But it hasn’t… gone up since–”

“Since you found me outside your apartment,” he finished for you. “I stopped shortly after that. I– uh, I realized that I wanted you. Or, well, I always knew, but that… that confirmed it. Mmm, I knew, though, that if I wanted us to be together, I’d have to change– stop! I’d have to stop doing the thing that made me lose you in the first place.”

“So… what does that mean for us?”

“It means… that if you want me to, I’ll peel your oranges for the rest of our lives.”

You wiped a stray tear from his cheek. “Even the white bits?”

The corner of his lips curled up in a grin, giving a glimpse of his crooked front teeth, and his eyes lit up like the night sky in the countryside.

“Especially the white bits.”

348 notes · View notes

bearxgyeomie · 6 days ago

Note

hiii i have a cnc/dubcon request for san ^^

imagine hard dom!san is about to enlist and his s/o knows how much she'll miss him so she gives him 24 hrs free use. the moment he hears this he can't fall asleep, waits til the clock strikes 12 and starts fucking her in her sleep until she wakes up. throughout the day he doesn't let her rest, making her cockwarm if he's too tired. when the 24hrs is almost up, san doesn't care but she notices, tries to reach for her phone to check the time but he just pins her arm down and fucks her even harder for another few hours

(maybe some cum play would be the cherry on top, san scooping it out to make room for more, then trying to push it back in with his fingers but it keeps gushing out so he fucks it back in, or maybe even making comments about how she'll still be dripping by the time he's discharged)

Admittedly, this was not the easiest thing to procure as this lies beyond my accustomed sphere - out my comfort zone, per se. Not the CNC part, but the free use. But alas, yours truly will always rise to the challenge. I'm hoping this was worth the wait.

Unaware and Unawake

genre/au: nonchalant!Sannie, borderline emotionally constipated but he does genuinely love you, established relationship, military au, not my usual thing tbh because this is a lot of filth rating/warning: PG-18+ so MDNI!!! CNC and dubcon (all completely and explicitly consensual) free use, somnophilia, multiple creampie, multiple orgasm, cockwarming (both pussy and mouth), dacryphilia, cum play, dom!San, creampie, no protection (do NOT do this!) word count: 9.7K words (got carried away with the plot)

He tried his very hardest to control the smallest tick on his facial muscles as he stared at your big, pretty doe eyes looking up at him with such uncertainty.

There was also deep sadness laced underneath all the storm that was brewing in them. San wanted nothing but to reassure you that the both of you were going to be okay, but that wasn’t within his rights because for obvious reasons, he can’t control the way you felt.

“Are you sure about this, San? Tell me,” you frowned deeper, processing the information that he just told you over what you thought would be an uneventful dinner one night.

San had just told you the biggest and most unexpected news he could possibly drop on you - that he was enlisting in the military this upcoming Monday. That was in three days.

“I mean, I’m not trying to change your mind, not at all,” you murmured. “I’m just curious about your thought process, that’s all.”

You watch him sigh ever so slightly, looking back down on his dinner plate, slicing away at the wonderful steak dinner you had prepared for him tonight.

“Are you?” San asked, continuing his slicing with a slow, deliberate motion. He didn’t look at you, didn’t shift and didn’t fidget. It was as if he just told you the current weather situation.

You didn’t take offense at his indifference - not at all. Choi San was just naturally calm, impassive, and stoic. Sometimes, it was mistaken by other people as standoffish and arrogant, but that’s just how your boyfriend was. He was a man of very few words.

Maybe there was something wrong with you. You found this attitude on him insatiably hot, especially the rare times he’d show his softer side to you and you only. He wasn’t particularly outright with his affection, but he would reach out to you every moment he could.

“I suppose,” you shrugged. “I just want to make sure you’ve thought about this well. It just seemed logical to ask, that's all.”

San put the steak in his mouth, meeting your gaze once more. His expression was unreadable - calm, detached, the way he always was. He chewed exaggeratedly, trying to hide the smirk threatening to break his stoicism.

Logical. It was how you were, it was how he was. It was what this relationship was solely built upon. It was like picking a gum flavour in a randomest, dinkiest petrol station situated in the corner of nowhere and not something that would take him away from you, from this - from everything.

But there was fondness in San’s eyes as he stared at you through his lashes. He never tells you enough how much he appreciates you.

You’ve never questioned the way his mind functioned, never second-guessed on supporting him through his decisions no matter how illogical they may sound. You were just there, and he knew that you’d still be there by his side through thick and thin.

Still, it didn’t mean it didn’t pain him to tell you that he was deciding to leave you for the time being and get his military enlistment out of the way. It wasn’t a one and done decision; it was something he’d stewed in and stressed about for weeks.

“I did,” he answered. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you and I could build our life together. I just want to get it over with.”

He casts a discreet gaze on the small drawer he’d put a gift he bought earlier in the day that reminded him of you. San was aware of how nonchalant he comes off, and he was trying his very best to show you that he loved you to the moon and back even though he doesn’t say it often.

He quickly averts his eyes before you notice. You were nothing but keen and observant, after all. Instead, he grabs the small folder that’s been set to his left. He slides it towards you casually like it was a takeout menu.

“Sign it,” he whispered, handing you a pen, purposefully not saying anything about the confused frown on your face.

You stared at San’s impassive face for a couple of seconds before tentatively opening the folder. Your brows automatically raise up to your hairline.

Legal paperwork. Temporary transfer of ownership of San’s business that he built from scratch before he even met you. Your lips quivered as the pen on your hand shook from the nerves, trying hard to concentrate on what the contract in front of you entailed. It was the least you could do.

San found success in starting his own property management company. It was his pride and joy. Every surface of the business he perfected over years, every drop of his blood, sweat and tears combined with all his burned out youth - it was all in there, wrapped up in black ink and legal terms.

And he was asking you to sign your name on it like he was asking to see what your handwriting looked like. Your fingers traced the edge of the paper.

“You trust me that much? San, this is big,” you bit your bottom lip, trying to mask how touched you were by the gesture.

He didn’t answer right away. San crossed his arms, watching your face get more and more emotional by the minute like he hadn’t just handed you the only thing he ever truly loved, besides yourself, of course.

He raised a playful brow, tilting his head - another rare show of how much he let himself loose in your presence. Truly, you had no idea how amazing you were to San. If only he knew how to express himself better.

“It’s either you, or I close the business for two years until I come back,” he finally said, voice low and sincere. “I know I don’t say it much, and I’m truly sorry, my love, but it never meant that I don’t mean it.”

You immediately shook your head at him, wagging the pen in front of his face for effect, too. San’s lips quirked up in the corners, barely anything to be considered a smile, making you giggle out loud. Music to his ears.

“I don’t need you to tell me,” you smiled sweetly at him. “I can feel it, San. I know you love me.”

The decision wasn’t lost on you. The pen dragged smoothly onto the paper, imprinting the utmost trust that San had placed on you. It was far better than love, if someone asked you. Trust was difficult to come by.

But then, you saw it. When San thought you weren’t paying enough attention to him, a real smile passed through his lips. He probably didn’t even notice it, himself. It was the type that brought out his gorgeous dimples that you loved poking to annoy him.

It made your heart skip a beat. Suddenly, a thought crosses your head. Instead of sliding the folder across the coffee table like a transaction, you stood up.

San looked confused, but you walked over to him, slow and steady, and placed it gently back in his hands, a small smirk painting your face. His eyes shifted to you, calm but alert. And just like that, the air between you two changed.

He took the folder, but didn’t move away. “You always were bossy,” he murmured, almost like it was an afterthought.

“Please. You love it.”

His brow twitched, maybe the hint of amusement, maybe something else. He hadn’t stepped back, and neither had you. Something in that expression brought something out of you, and you wanted to make the most out of it.

You placed your leg in between his, dangerously close to that area that ruled San’s head sometimes. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, desire clear in his haze.

It was a defense mechanism on your end. You didn’t want to think about how much you were going to miss San when he was gone, you had plenty of time for that when you’re alone, but the very thought of it was already getting to you. You wanted to be strong for the both of you. The last thing you wanted was for San to worry about you as well when he was away.

You didn’t want his body to be there, but his heart at home with you. He wasn’t going to change his mind. He had probably decided this weeks ago, long before he thought to mention it.

You curled your fingers on his shirt collar, dragging him towards you. The gesture darkened his eyes significantly. You bit your lip to stop your smile, and instead leaned down further, close enough that your breath ghosted warm against his skin, just below his ear.

“You’ve got twenty-four hours,” you whispered, voice low and velvet-smooth. “Free use. No questions asked. You can do whatever you want with me,” you bit his earlobe softly. San groaned, shivering. “And I mean, anything.”

You knew he was going to miss you, too. Maybe even more than you’ll miss him.

San’s jaw clenched so tight, you were slightly afraid that he was going to break in his teeth, his fingers tightened ever so slightly around the folder, the corners crinkled badly. You reckoned you needed to re-print the whole thing now.

You grinned widely, this rush of power suddenly surging through you making you giddy. He turned his head just enough that your lips nearly brushed.

“Dangerous thing to offer,” San said, voice a shade rougher now. His eyes met yours in a heated stare, the intensity of it almost making you falter. Almost.

You subconsciously clenched down there, scoffing at him. “I’m not scared of you.”

His eyes flicked over your face, pausing at your mouth. That almost-smile from earlier threatened to return, but didn’t. The tension was killing you, but you weren’t going to back down. You wanted to see how far San would take your offer, how far you could push him before he broke.

“Not yet, no,” he said, prying your fingers from his collar and pushing you gently away from him so he could stand up and tower over you and smirk cockily at you. Oh, that definitely made you clench harder. “But you should be.”

But that night as San lay on his back, arms folded under his head, staring at the ceiling like it might have the answers, he couldn’t sleep. Turns out, he was the one scared.

He’d tried to brush it off, told himself you were just teasing him and just trying to get a reaction, but your voice echoed in his head like you had whispered it into his bones.

You’ve got twenty-four hours.

And he did tell you that it was a very, very dangerous thing to offer. The possibilities were endless, but that wasn’t what he was worried about.

San meant it when he said that it was literally dangerous. He will break you, and the worst part was that he will have the time of his life seeing your eyes roll behind your head as he made you come over and over again, and even then, he wouldn’t stop.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to see your sleeping form beside him. Your back, the curve of your shoulders rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm as you snoozed away, unaware of the nastiest, most sadistic thoughts slowly forming in San’s head.

Those thoughts sent blood rushing down south. With a deep breath, he carefully lowered his boxers, just enough for his aching, leaking cock to spring free from its confines. He hissed when cold air hit his skin, but it wasn’t enough to deter how hard and erect he was just by looking at your bare shoulders and neck.

Oh, how he’d love to mark your skin akin to a world map, only purplish in bruises instead of the multiple countries he’d take you after he was discharged.

Fine, he thought. He would use you like the whore you were. His right hand would be his only companion for months after he enlists, pretending it was your pussy instead.

San glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, groaning and gritting his teeth in annoyance when the clock showed 11:45 P.M. You didn’t explicitly say when to start, but San knew better than to jump you immediately.

He smirked cruelly, you thought you were so slick, always thinking that you had him figured out, but he knew you like the back of his hand. You were definitely expecting him to immediately take your offer, but no, he was going to milk his time.

San grasped his cock, sighing in a quiet but sharp breath, biting his lips to keep his pleasured groans to himself so as not to wake you up. He was harder than he has ever been in his life, and ironically, he wasn’t even doing anything with you. His eyes raked at your sleeping figure, squeezing his weeping cock tighter in his hand.

He knew he wasn’t going to last long unless he paced himself, but he couldn’t help tugging his cock a bit back and forth, up and down, the sound of his fists slapping against his shaft turning him on more than ever.

He couldn’t believe it - he was literally jerking off next to you as he slept. He felt dirty, but the thought of it could almost make him bust. He used his palm to rub some of his precum as lube, but when that wasn’t enough, he positioned his hand in front of his mouth to spit on it.

But, he stopped at the last minute. He looked at the clock once again, rolling his eyes when he realized that three minutes had only passed.

He waited a bit to see if you were going to move, but no, you hadn’t. You were still sleeping, still peaceful. Carefully, he scooted beside you, his face hovering over you slightly until his fingers found your lips, delicately parting them so he could coat them with your saliva.

When that was said and done, he laid back down comfortably and closed his eyes, stroking his cock with your saliva as his lube. The filthiness of it made his cock twitch in his hand.

He was extremely turned on and he was so excited that he almost finished right there and then, but he didn’t waver as he continued to stoke away as he stared at your beautiful face. But he’d waited, kept himself patient and let the tension grow as he held breath.

The minutes couldn’t have rolled slower, but the moment the clock said 12:00 A.M., he didn’t hesitate.

He shifted forward, arm sliding around your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. You stirred with a soft inhale, and for a second, he froze. He thought you were waking up, maybe he was a little too excited, but you weren’t.

A short, sarcastic laughter of disbelief escapes him. San couldn’t believe it, but more so, towards himself. He realized he didn’t want you awake. You waking up would mean that the excitement would be gone.

You were still asleep, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen to you.

The thought of it actually put a slight damper on his erection. An evil smirk decorates his face as he resisted the urge to wrap his hand on your pretty neck. Despite that thought, he wouldn’t mind you waking up in the process of him defiling your body. It got him harder than he thought he already was.

It aroused him greatly. The thought of how forbidden this all was. However, he had explicit permission from you. Still, he wouldn’t want to hurt you.

San carefully pushed up the oversized shirt you liked wearing to sleep and admired your exposed body. He caught sight of your perky tits, they were just the right size for him and his hands. He didn’t hesitate further and caught your nipples between his fingers.

When all you did was let out a small, pitiful whimper in your sleep, it was when it fully hit him. You were really at his mercy. It intoxicated him, all this power.

He stroked his cock as he played with your nipples, pinching them a little harder than usual just to see if you were going to stir. This time he couldn’t help but furrow his brows, he didn’t realize you slept this heavily.

As he continued to knead the soft flesh of your breasts, his eyes suddenly went down on your parting lips, your light snores filling in his ears. The idea of his cock in your mouth as you snored started to arouse him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered, hovering over you, careful not to crush you beneath him as he started to line up his cock onto your plush, inviting lips.

A surge of pleasure shoots up his spine at the sight. A desire for excitement at the thought of him doing something technically morally wrong gave him a sort of kick he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

He leaned down, giving your forehead a gentle, chaste kiss before he filthily inserted two of his fingers inside your mouth, exploring the wet cavern roughly, not even caring if you woke up at this point.

“Fuck,” San hissed as he slid his cock into your mouth. He withdrew, not wanting to choke you in your sleep, but he couldn’t help but chase that euphoric sensation and thrust back in ever so slightly so you wouldn’t be startled awake and, well, actually choke.

He worked his way down your body, his right hand mindlessly alternating between kneading and squeezing your tits while his left played with your dripping cunt, rubbing at your clit slowly and rhythmically.

Just when he thought that this couldn’t get any better, you started to make weak, suckling motions on his cock as if in sleep, you knew that you had to please San. You twitched a little when he jerked a bit and pressed on your clit a little too hard in surprise, but that didn’t rouse you or stop your sucking.

It was the most peaceful San had ever seen you, if it wasn’t for your mouth stuffed full of his cock. He barely had time to pull out and come on your chin and neck, his warmth spurting out in bursts of endless streams.

Sweat pooled on his temples. He smirked, what a sight you were - covered in his cum without even knowing. If his painting skills weren’t garbage, he would immortalize this on a canvas.

Unfortunately, he had to wipe all of it away before he covered you again with the blankets. He was spent for the night, so he went to the bathroom to douse himself in cold water before he went back and tried to sleep beside you.

But he couldn’t sleep, for the life of him. He cursed under his breath so hard that he wouldn’t be surprised if God suddenly struck him with lightning. He pictured your face streaked with his cum once more, and it was enough for him to get aroused again.

He could feel his cock twitching and pulsing in his boxers again. He wondered how in the world he could feel so aroused when he had just orgasmed.

He tossed and turned, tried to erase the erotic image of you away from his head. San even started to picture dead animals and some random images of naked grannies in his head to will his erection to, hopefully, go away, but to no avail. He wanted you, and he wanted you so, so bad.

It was well into the wee hours of the morning when he decided that he was going to have you, consequences be damned. This time, he was going to have you in the way that you deserved. He was going to put you in your place.

It was almost four in the morning when he parted your legs open. Usually, he took his time to finger you and get you nice and prepped for him, but he could barely wait to be inside your warm heat this time. San hugged you from behind, spooning you while he nudged the tip of his cock at your entrance, groaning when he slipped easily inside.

He went slow at first, still not wanting to hurt you, but gradually, he shifted and decided to fuck you while he was on top. He couldn’t take it anymore, he fully jammed himself deeper in you and fucked you fast and hard, his balls slapping lewdly against your ass.

You stirred under him, startled awake. At first, you were confused at the tingly, delicious feeling penetrating you, until you locked eyes with San who was just going at it on top of you. He smirked at you as he claimed your pussy, and the moan that you let out was loud enough to wake up every single person in the neighbourhood.

“Sannie, mmm, s-shit,” you stuttered, still stumbling over your words as you were still half-asleep,

San wrapped an arm around your lower back, effectively burying himself completely deeper, hitting that spot inside you that had you squealing in delight. “Don’t fight it, let me have you,” he kissed your jaw, his silent growls hitting your ears as he continued with his onslaught.

It was when you realized how sticky your mouth kind of felt. After a moment, arousal spread through you when you realized that you were tasting warm cum on your tongue. Had San already had his fill with you before you even woke up?

The thought had you wrapping your arms around San’s broad shoulders, scratching at his back in retaliation, though it didn’t diminish how much it turned you on that he took you without you knowing.

“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” San growled as he thrust in your cunt roughly without any mercy. He wouldn’t stop now that he could do whatever the hell he wanted with you.

You fluttered, squeezed, around him. “Damn, that feels good,” he grunted. He didn’t need to stay quiet any longer, he could curse and groan as loudly as he damn well pleased now that you were fully awake.

“Oh God, p-please,” you lifted your hips up the bed, placing your hands on San’s plump behind to get him deeper inside you.

San grinned, his growls sound more primal through his teeth. He had known you were perfect, so perfect for him, but this just completely solidified it. You were so responsive to him, gasping as your pussy took him.

It didn’t take long for him to burst, his hips drilling into you hardly one last time before his seed painted your tight hole white. He felt your nails scrape across his back, and through the haze of his orgasm, he could feel your orgasm peek through, albeit less strong than the usual ones he’d give you.

“Had fun?” You asked with a small giggle as San panted on top of you.

“No,” he smirked cockily, rolling his hips when you pouted. He groaned, his soft cock sliding out from the mess of cum he’d dumped into you. One of many today. “Not yet.”

You were starting to regret your decision. Well, not entirely, anyway. You should’ve known how shrewd and cunning San was, but you had severely underestimated him.

When you woke up a few hours later, San wasn’t on the bed with you anymore. That was fine because you knew he was most likely doing his daily morning jogs. If he had time, he’d usually get you coffee and croissants along the way, too.

Definitely a man of few words, but an absolutely consistent man of actions. But just in case he didn’t have time, you decided to make breakfast.

You were standing at the stove, in the process of oiling it and putting the heat on, when you heard the front door open, San’s familiar footsteps filling in the silence of the kitchen.

“Hey, love,” you murmured when you felt him behind you.

He hummed, not bothering to say a word, as he circled his hand up to your waist and pulled your face to his for a quick peck on the lips. You bit back a smile when he set down your coffee and croissants to the side.

You were expecting him to sit on the table to wait for you to finish, but he repositioned himself behind you, his warm breath hitting the back of your neck. You shivered at the contact, and it definitely wasn’t because of the morning breeze.

At first, he was tender. San nosed your jaw, his teeth light grazing the sensitive parts of your neck. You let out a breathy moan when he reached up and palmed your breasts through your shirt - well, it was technically his shirt - your nipples hardening against his teasing hands.

You tried to turn and kiss him again, but he held you tight, grinding his hips against your ass with his half-hard cock. It was when you felt him snap.

He grabbed your hips hard - hard enough to leave marks. “S-San,” you whined in pain when he pinched your nipples, squirming against his touch.

“Shut your mouth,” he grumbled, thoroughly turned on at the sight of you wearing his shirt, lifting it enough to grab a handful of your plump ass.

You had expected restraint. Maybe something slow, almost sweet. But no, that wasn't how he worked, not when the clock struck and the rules were finally gone by your own accord.

He wasn’t just taking what you offered it - he was owning it. You felt it in the way his grip tightened when you gasped and in the way his mouth found your throat like it had been waiting for permission to devour you.

And he was going to swallow you whole like it was the first war he intended to win before he even enlisted.

“San, slow down—oh!”

You choked out audibly when he didn’t hesitate to rip his shirt off of you in pieces. With a harsh tug, he turns you around, dragging you like a ragdoll towards his direction. “No, this twenty-four hours is mine,” he barked. “Come here.”

And he did something you were not expecting, not in a million years. You yelped when his arms swept across the table like a madman, the table and the whole house shaking as all the plates, mugs, and glassware you set on the table all crashed down the floor, the sharp edges of broken pieces scattering like shrapnel.

Your jaw dropped, startled. “San! What the hell—”

He spun you to face him, hands firm, eyes dark with something you hadn’t seen in him before - something that wasn’t just hunger, but need. It was nothing short of raw and wild.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he said, voice low and tight, like it was dragged from somewhere deep.

His mouth was on yours before you could speak. He kissed the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, leaving a trail of heat as he pressed you back against the table, reckless and relentless.

“You broke everything,” you whispered against his lips, half-laughing, half-breathless.

“I’ll buy you the whole damn store when I get back.”

He was lifting you onto the edge of the counter, hands gripping your thighs, the sound of broken ceramic crackle as he moved. But he didn’t flinch, because to him, nothing mattered in that moment except you.

Not the mess. Not the noise. Not the goodbye waiting on the other side of the sunrise.

You didn’t need prepping, San was able to slip inside you once more with ease. He didn’t wait for you to adjust, he immediately started a rough pace that had the table underneath you shaking with the force of his thrust.

“Ah, yes,” he laughed sadistically as he fucked into you roughly. “This is what I want.”

You couldn’t do anything except open your mouth to let out the most wanton of moans and just take the delicious abuse of his cock hitting pleasurably inside of you. You moved your hands to try and grab the edges of the table, but San stopped you.

“No, no, no, my little slut,” he growled, slapping them off, making you whimper, the slight sting of it going straight down your fluttering pussy. “Hands and eyes on me.”

You rolled your eyes at the back of your head, mumbling something out loud that turned out to be gibberish. “What was that?” San snapped.

“H-Harder,” you whimpered, drool pooling at the sides of your mouth and flowing out down the table. San’s cock grew impossibly harder at how cock dumb you looked right now. “Harder, San, harder—”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he ploughed, harder at your command per curse.

He wasn’t going to last long and you knew it. His hands wrap around your neck, using it as momentum to push you deeper and deeper onto his throbbing erection, like his goal was to have your guts rearranged by the time he was done.

He stills, his warmth spilling inside of you once more. A growl resounds from the back of his throat as he slapped his hips two more times before he let go of your neck. “You okay?” San asked, tucking your hair behind your ears, his voice hoarse, cracking in the middle.

You pouted. “I didn’t come.”

He raised a brow, a ghost of a smirk threatening to break from his lips. “I know,” he chuckled darkly. “I’m gonna pull out, yeah? Put your legs up.”

You frowned, but moaned anyway when he pulled out, pushing your legs high up in the air. He leaned down, laughing smugly as he stared lewdly down there. You blushed in embarrassment, but didn’t say anything.

“Holy fucking shit, I came a lot,” he shook his head in amusement. “Shit, that’s a lot of cum.”

You were about to retort something ridiculous when he turned back to look at you, all amusement gone from his eyes. “I’m going to take a nap,” he mumbled with a hint of command in it. “You better not let any drop of this out. Not a single one.”

Your face turns even redder at how filthy his request was - how it turned you on to not be able to say no. “B-but how? I-I don’t know how to,” you sputtered out.

He shrugged. “Not my problem.”

Even after he carried you to the couch so you wouldn’t step on glass, and even after he had cleaned up and vacuumed all the mess, that smug smirk never left his lips.

You resorted to clenching your pussy so his sperm wouldn’t drip out of you. God, you thought. It was so filthy, so dirty, and something you never thought San would ever ask of you. But you loved every bit of it.

You went and did your daily routine, San’s cum still inside of your clenched cunt. It was difficult, sometimes you’d forget and you’d feel the sticky warmth begin to trail down, but before it oozed out, you would clench back again.

You decided to go to the bathroom to check - even the thought of this made you blush as if you and San hadn’t just fucked on the kitchen table - just to see the state of your pussy full of San’s cum when you were suddenly pulled into the bedroom where San was napping.

“S-San?” You yelped when his sharp eyes took in your form, his tongue darting out to lick his lips salaciously.

“Take your clothes off,” was all he said.

It was how you found yourself face down on the bed, your hips up in the air with your legs sprawled open for San to admire your glistening hole. He groaned, seeing all his cum still contained inside your inviting pussy.

“What a good girl,” he chuckled darkly, trying to contain his excitement at the prospect of you literally doing anything he wanted even if it’s just for today. “You deserve a reward.”

He slid a finger into your soaking, wet opening, pushing his trickling seed inside you. It produced an obscene, squelching sound that went straight to his aching cock. Without thinking, he dived in, his tongue automatically latching on your swollen clit as he teased your cunt with little swirls.

“W-What are you doing, San,” you squirmed, slightly alarmed, fisting the bed sheets so tight, your knuckles turned white.

It was completely fueled by passion on his end. He moved his head lower, running his tongue up and down your slit and flicked it back and forth over your clit. Pushing his tongue into you, his mouth was assaulted by the salty, slightly bitter, taste of his own cum. It was certainly a new experience for him, but nonetheless, it served to turn him on even more.

You had begun to relax, pushing your ass subconsciously on San’s face. He was more than happy to oblige, his rough hands gripping on your thighs as he ate you out with more urgency.

He dove two fingers back into you, all the while he alternated between sucking your clit and finger-fucking you. He moved faster, making you moan loudly. You were so loud, it spurred him on even more.

“Oh, G-God, San, San, San,” you screamed when he hit that particular spot deep inside of you with just his fingers.

But it was the vibrations of his laughter that had you exploding on his face. He felt your pussy pulsate on his fingers, and it was when he knew that you had come.

You kept trembling with every touch, and he wanted to gloat, but all that died down when he heard your sniffles. He quickly laid down beside you, your ass still in the air, and shushed you. “Too much?” San frowned.

You shook your head, your tears still falling. “Just overstimulated.”

“Good or bad?”

You laughed wetly. “Are you kidding me? That was amazing.”

You leaned in to kiss him, mewling when his lips felt sticky with his own release from eating you out. Without thinking, you grabbed onto his crotch, pleased to find that he was very much hard underneath your fingers.

It was all he needed to position himself behind you, his cock snug inside your wet heat once more. It was slow and easy this time - he didn’t want to overstimulate you further, but the truth was, the sight of you crying lit up a fire inside him that he didn’t know existed.

He rolled his hips roughly once just to see your reaction. Just as expected, more tears of overstimulation flew from your eyes. He felt his cock twitch, and before he knew it, he was ramming into you like an animal in heat.

“Look at me,” he demanded roughly, slapping your ass once to get your attention.

Your eyes were wet with tears, the mascara you were wearing running down your face. “Oh my fucking God,” San moaned, whined, ravaging you from behind so hard, your head had hit the headboard multiple times from the sheer force of his thrusts.

When he finished, you were expecting him to make you keep his cum inside you again for God-knows-how-long, but what you were not expecting was for him to go back down on you again before hovering over you.

“Open your mouth, love,” he coaxed, tapping your chin to get you to stay awake.

He tilted his head down, his tongue already out before you knew it.Your breath hitched when you saw the obscene trail of semen spill from his tongue before drops of it fell straight into your mouth.

God, it was so sloppy. He smirked, mouth still opened up. Every second stretched out, drawn out like he wanted you to feel everything.

When it was over, you swallowed, throat burning. He pulled back, eyes dark. “You okay?” San asked, voice rough.

You nodded, barely sentient, and his smile told you he knew exactly what he’d done.

You’d like to believe your relationship with San was ordinary. Not in a bad way, you did feel like every couple out there. You loved each other dearly, you fought ferociously, and throughout all of those, you stuck with each other despite your very obvious flaws.

But one thing you never thought you’d have to think about was how truly, utterly insatiable San was today.

“Sannie, ngh,” you whined pathetically, your cunt squeezing his cock weakly.

He groaned, sighing, as he wrapped his arms around you tightly from behind. “Get some rest,” he said tiredly, voice rough with the need to sleep.

After that sloppy session of him eating his cum and making you eat it in return, he fucked you twice some more, an hour apart from each other. They were both slow and lazy, but both mind blowing, nonetheless.

Needless to say, your body felt like it’s been run through with a pick up truck. You were exhausted.

And San was, too, but clearly, that wasn’t enough to deter him. You were lying peacefully on the bed, just browsing through your phone while San showered. When he came out, he laid down next to you, inserting himself back inside you, his cock hard but unmoving.

“B-But how?” You blurted out, wrapping the blanket around your naked body, ignoring how full you currently felt down there.

“By being a good cock sleeve and letting you cockwarm me,” San replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Maybe it was your body giving out on you from the strenuous activity of the continuous sex, or maybe it was how warm and safe you felt being in San’s arms, but by the grace of God, you were able to fall asleep, San’s cock still snug inside you while he, himself, snored away.

Luckily, he left you alone for a couple of hours. You woke up late in the afternoon when the sun was almost down, your entire body sore. You were saddened when you found that San wasn’t lying beside you - though if you were being completely honest, you just wanted to wake up stuffed full of cock.

“Dummy,” you giggled fondly, shaking your head as you read the note that he left on the nightstand, stating that he had ordered some food for you and left it in the kitchen.

You tried not to feel down as you got dressed and went down to eat. San had to leave to settle his company because when he enlists soon, the temporary ownership he was transferring to you was going to be a massive change, after all.

Luckily, you wouldn’t need too much time to adjust. You loved San so much that you took it upon yourself to learn the intricacies of his company, staying up late with him for so many nights to help him out even though you barely knew what you were doing.

He would never say it out loud, but the fondness in his eyes as he looked at you whenever he thought you weren’t looking told you enough. San was always more than happy to answer your every question.

But you knew why he was doing this. He had co-owners, seven of them, to be exact, who were his lifelong best friends. He could have chosen one of them to run the company while he was gone. They were more than competent and would be a more viable option than you’d ever be.

San didn’t give it to you because it made the most sense, he gave it to you because you made sense to him.

You closed your eyes, forgetting the kitchen that surrounded you and just focused on the sensation of San’s hands holding onto you, the ghost of his touch guarding your thoughts.

The thoughts he knew because he knew you like the back of his hands; he knew how your mind functioned and spiralled, especially if left alone for too long.

He hadn’t just trusted you with his empire, he was protecting you.

You could think clearer now that his cock wasn’t plugging your cunt and your mind. He didn’t want you to think too much, to slowly lose your sanity in his absence, to miss him too much while he was in the military, equally missing you. The biggest difference between you and him was that he knew how to set his emotions aside, you were only good at ignoring it.

He always pretended that he didn’t care, but he cared more than anyone you knew. Even when he rammed inside you roughly, you could see the emotions passing through his eyes. Fear. Love. Longing.

He didn’t need to say a lot of things, because you just knew. He thought you didn’t notice when he held onto you a little too tight, not willing to let you, and you understood - he was leaving, but he wasn’t letting go.

San was giving you a piece of himself to hold on to, because it was the only way he knew how to say those things he had a difficult time saying.

Don’t forget me. Stay busy. Stay whole. Be patient. Please wait.

You didn’t notice when the first tear slipped down your cheek, and then, you felt it - a thumb so gentle you barely felt it brush against your wettened cheeks.

San didn’t say anything, just kept wiping away the tears you didn’t know were still falling. His hand lingered at your cheek, his brow furrowed like your sadness physically pained him.

“H-Hey,” you tried to smile, but it ended up looking like a grimace. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just a little in my head. I’m fine.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know you are.”

He held your face a moment longer than necessary. The way his eyes lingered a little too long on your lips and you could physically feel the change in his demeanor.

And then he looked away. Just for a beat. Like he was trying to reel something back in before it slipped. You were still in his shirt. Still sitting there, legs bare, hair tousled, tears drying on your skin.

He was trying - God, he was trying - to hold the line. You reached out, fingers curling lightly around his wrist. “You okay?”

That was the breaking point, because you weren’t supposed to ask him that. Not now. Not when you were the one crying. Not when he was the one leaving.

He exhaled sharply through his nose and looked back at you, and this time the control wasn’t just slipping - it was gone.

“I’m not,” he said hoarsely. “Not when you look at me like that.”

The revelation had you reeling, and your lips parted. It caught his attention, but he didn’t move, and neither did you. Instead, you clutched his shirt tighter.

“You’re crying, you’re vulnerable. I should, fuck, I should walk away right now.” he murmured, almost like he was reminding himself. “But I can’t.”

And then he kissed you. And when he pulled back just enough to speak, he whispered, “I wanted to give you space, but fuck, I want you too much.”

Because you were his. Because he was yours. And because twenty-four hours would never be enough. But he wasn’t going to touch you, not this time. Plus, his dick was spent.

He smiled, pulling you up by the arm. “Come,” he said. “I have work to do in the office, would you like to accompany me?”

Whatever you choose, he’d accept. He could have had you again, could’ve drowned in you to forget both of your worries, but he can’t. He just wants you near, and maybe that meant even more to him.

It was how you found yourself curled against his arms as he typed on his laptop with one hand, his other arm wrapped around you possessively. You watched him for a while, curled under the blanket, the steady rhythm of his typing filling the room.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what almost happened. The way his resolve almost melted like you were the one in control of the situation. But you respected it when he pulled back. It was admirable really, you bet it was difficult.

You tried to focus on something else. Anything else. But the air between you hadn’t cleared - it had just thickened. You bit your lips, a sudden thought passing through your head as you stared at San’s side profile. God, you thought, can this man get any more attractive?

Apparently, San can sense it, too. The growing tension, just laying still in the silence that enveloped the two of you. He couldn’t help but stare at the way the blanket would slide off of your shoulders when you shifted to get comfortable, the way you stretched and it would push your perky tits up on his arm.

He went back to typing, but his posture shifted. Straighter. Stiffer. Like he was holding something back with both hands.

You splayed a hand over San’s belly, skimming your fingers lower to trace random, abstract patterns over his taut skin out of sheer boredom. San bit his lip, resisting the urge to groan under your touch, a static buzz running up the column of his spine.

You were about to lower your fingers to touch the waistband of his boxers when San’s hand stopped yours in a panic. “Don’t,” he manages to let out. “I’m really trying to hold out here, love, don’t fucking tempt me.”

You shrugged, not meaning to actually do what he thought he was doing. You moved your hand away sheepishly, but you did the worst thing you could ever possibly do at this moment - you looked up at him with the biggest doe eyes. Something in him just snapped.

Fuck it, he thought.

“S-San, I’m s-sorry,” you whined when he pulled your hair down with one hand while his other hand already began to work on his pants. You swallowed when he gripped his hard, leaking cock in his hand, stroking it. “Please, I’m so sore and tired—”

“Twenty-four hours, remember? You’ve got six more hours, tough it out,” San raised a brow. You whimpered when he gripped your hair harder. “Don’t worry,” he smirked. “I’m a little spent myself, however…”

Fuck, if his refusal to let you rest didn’t turn you on. You instantly felt your nether regions slick up with his words.

You sputtered when he began to lower your head, slapping the tip of his cock lewdly on your lips. “Open up,” he ordered.

You let the fat tip of his cock rest on the flat of your tongue, feeling your throat automatically open up for the intrusion like it knows that its only job right now was to take San all the way in until your throat couldn’t take him anymore. You couldn’t help but groan softly, the familiar feeling of San’s girth, the musky scent of him, and just about everything made your head spin.

San lets out a husky moan as he squeezes the base of his shaft, fondling his balls a little as you adjust to his length. “Stay right there, love, I like this right now,” he groaned.

You hummed as San went back to typing immediately while your mouth just warmed his cock just right as you laid down on the couch. In a peculiar way, it felt sensual and intimate. You let your eyes flutter, focusing on nothing but the feeling of San’s cock lodged in your throat - the heat and the taste of it, especially.

Cockwarming your boyfriend while he worked was definitely one of the things you never really expected because when San works, he’s pretty much locked into it until he deems it otherwise. But here you were, curled up and feeling very cozy on San’s lap with his balls kissing your chin.

You lost track of time, letting out a muffled groan once in a while when you’d feel San adjust himself and, therefore, humping his cock deeper in your voice box by accident. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d thank your lucky stars that he’d trained your gag reflex a long, long time ago.

San didn’t stop working, and with the warmth of his body, the repeated clacking of the keyboard, and his steady breathing, it wrapped you like a lullaby. Before long, you felt your eyes closing. It reminded you of last night when he woke you up with him fucking you.

What you would give to experience that type of pleasure again. There was something about relinquishing all control to him that turned you on so much.

But you didn’t have to wait long. You groaned, disoriented, limbs heavy, mind still caught in that quiet fog between dreaming and waking. You were about to sit up, but suddenly, you felt a stabbing zing of pleasure down there that sent stars in your vision. “San! Oh—”

San lifts your legs up, leaning close to press your lips together for a sweet, sinful kiss. You swallow a whine when he eases on top of you, burying himself completely up to the hilt.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby, what are you doing to me?” San moans out, his thrusts so agonizingly slow that you feel that familiar heat build up inside your lower belly. He tips his head into your neck. “Y/N,” he moans again, long and low.

“A-Ah, how long w-was I out?” You asked, your sleepy eyes gazing back at his lust-filled ones. “Fuck, that’s it, just like that,” you gasped, holding onto his arm for support. “I love you, San.”

“Love you too, baby,” he says, voice rough, smoothing a hand up and down your spine as he slowly fucks up into you. “Couple of hours. God, I’m gonna come.”

You try to rock back to meet each slow thrust, not wanting San to go faster so much as you want him deeper. “Please,” you whined.

He groans, spilling his seed deep into you for what you assumed was the last time for tonight. He puts all his weight onto you, careful not to crush you, heaving repeated breaths that he tried to catch before he gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

He pulls out, going down on you again, and for a second, you thought he was going to suck his own cum out again and give it to you. The very thought of it had you blushing madly up to your ears.

Imagine your surprise when you felt his fingers dig into you, instead. “W-What are you doing?”

He eyes you once, a small smirk painting his lips, groaning under his breath at the sight of his cum just pouring out of you. “I’m making room for more,” he flatly said, scooping his cum out of you with his fingers.

It had you whining and squeezing against his fingers at how filthy and erotic the act of it was. He clicks his tongue, though, because no matter what he did, your pussy just kept gushing everything out. “Fuck, love, looks like you’ve finally reached your limit,” he laughed.

“Funny,” you deadpanned, trying to pretend that it didn’t turn you on.

It was probably midnight by now, no, you were pretty sure it was past midnight now. You stretched your arm - just now realizing you were in bed - to try and grab your phone from the nightstand to check the time, but you gasped when your arms were grabbed roughly.

“San?” You tilted your head in confusion, but all that did was make him pin your arms down to your sides.

Your heart stilted in your chest. He didn’t say anything, but he had that animalistic look in his eyes. And then, it hits you. “San,” you gulped. “How long have you been fucking me in my sleep?”

He smirked, pinning your wrists with more added weight. “Does it matter?”

Now that you were thinking about it, your cunt felt abnormally sore. Your eyes fluttered shut when San thrusted sharply once into you in one go, fucking his cum back into with his cock.

And just when you thought it was impossible, San fucks you hard - he fucks you the hardest he’s ever fucked you in general. It had your shrill voice bouncing obnoxiously throughout the room along with the loud squelching of his previous cum.

“Take it, you whore, take my fucking cock,” he roared amidst your screams.

He gripped your hair in one hand and buried his face into your shoulder to muffle his noises. The tears and spit dampened his skin as you continued to take what he was giving you. He could feel his balls drawing up tight, all of his muscles coiling in preparation for the orgasm he knew was coming.

Your mind automatically went to your thoughts when you woke up today - the regret. You had definitely underestimated the way San took advantage of this deal you had going on, but that wasn’t what made you regret this.

Because you’d thought you had power when you made the offer. You’d thought it was your way of controlling the goodbye; of saying, fine. Take this. Remember me like this.

But he turned it inside out, and now, you were the one unraveling beneath him.

“God, I fucking love you,” he moaned out, marking your neck up with the abstract patterns of his lips. “You don’t know how much you mean to me.”

And worst of all, he enjoyed it. Not just the act. Not just your body. He enjoyed seeing you like this. Honest. Shaken. Open in a way you never let yourself be.

“I l-love—San, God, p-please,” you stuttered, your tongue lolling out pathetically from your mouth. The low, pleased hum in his throat when you tried to form words and failed spurred you on.

He was always so still, so unreadable until now. Now, he wasn’t stoic - he was focused. Just your body, your breath, and the way you whispered his name like it meant something, it was all he needed right now

And for the first time, he let himself show it - how much he wanted you. How badly he’d miss you. How he’d burn down everything else, piece by piece, just to make these hours count.

“Gonna fuck my cum into you so deep, love,” his breathing was laboured, his hips stuttering into a rhythm without any dynamics in them. “Maybe you’ll still be dripping with my cum by the time I get discharged.”

That imagery was what sent you over the edge. The very thought of it in the back of your head already had you getting hot and bothered for the next time you’d see each other again.

San's eyes rolled back in pleasure and he groaned loudly. He wished this could last forever, but he was genuinely spent now. What he wouldn't give to have you crying on his cock every day, giving you load after load of cum. The very thought made him tremble.

There were no more orgasms that you could give him, being spent from the entire day of just having his cock inside you, but you still fluttered weakly against his cock, squeezing and milking it for all its worth. It still felt so good on your end.

San didn’t move away nor did he let go. He wasn’t ready, and he also knew you weren’t ready either. You didn’t dare breathe or make a sound as you tried to level yourself back to your body. Not yet.

Not when his hands were on you like that. Not when he looked at you like this. Not when he touched you like you were the only thing he wasn’t willing to leave behind.

If tonight was all you had left, then you wanted to remember this.

Against your will, your tears fell. All this was a distraction from the reality that you were going to be without San for two years straight and now that it was over, it was hitting you all at once.

He held you tighter when he felt your body shake and tremble and maybe, that’s what did it for him too.

Then he finally spoke, low and unsteady. “I hate this.”

You lifted your head, just enough to see his face. His eyes were locked somewhere across the room, like he couldn’t bear to look at you while he said it.

“I hate knowing you’re gonna be here and I won’t be,” he continued. “I hate that this is the only option I have because I’d have to go to the military anyway, so I’d rather do it now.”

Your heart was already breaking open again, tears slipping silently down your cheeks as you stared at him. He quickly wipes your tears, alarmed. He gets it, he was never one to let his feelings out.

Something tugged at you from your chest, and you needed to come clean to him. “What if you change your mind?” You asked quietly, your voice smaller than you meant it to be. “What if two years from now, after being away, you realize you never loved me?”

San went deathly still and you almost took the question back, but you had to say it. It was what has been bothering you the entire time. He didn’t answer, he just looked at you, steady and quiet.

“What if you go away, and two years from now, you realize you don’t love me the same way?” The words tumbled out like you’d been holding them in for too long. “That maybe this was just comfort?”

He didn’t flinch, but his heart squeezed tight in his chest, hurt that you would feel that way. It was what made him realize that just because he gave you his business doesn’t equate to security even though he trusted you with everything he had.

He glanced at the drawer again where he stored the gift he had bought for you yesterday, the one that he’d been casting discreet glances at, the one that reminded him of you so, so much. He exhaled slowly, and without a word, he leaned over to open the drawer to finally take it out.

San pulls out a small box and your breath instantly catches. He turns back towards you, not meeting your eyes, and opens it gently with practiced calm, like he didn’t want to die with nervousness as his heart thudded against his ribs.

Your lips parted, but no words came.You stared at him, stunned, a fresh wave of tears welling up, but different. This time, it was with warmth.

The box sat there in his hand but with that quiet steadiness that you loved about him that he always carried with him, even when the world around him trembled.

“You want proof I won’t change my mind?” he said, voice low and steady. “This is it.”

You blinked, the sting of tears returning as your heart pressed harder against your ribs. You looked down at the ring. Then back at him.

He looked up at you, finally meeting your eyes. “I want to come back to you,” he said, the vulnerability in his eyes making your eyes sting with more tears. “I’ve been carrying this around for months. Never knew when was the right time. I guess there’s not really a perfect one.”

“You are my home, Y/N,” he smiled softly. "And I wouldn’t be leaving anything behind if I didn’t already decide that everything I want is right here.”

And suddenly, the fear inside you didn’t feel so loud anymore. You took the ring from his hand, sliding it onto your finger like it had always belonged there. You didn’t say yes - you didn’t have to.

His shoulders dropped the moment it was done. Not dramatically just a quiet, subtle release like he was breathing out for the first time in hours. Then, for once, his voice faltered. “Will you wait for me?” San asked, hesitant.

You leaned forward, touching your forehead to his. “Don’t ask me if I’ll wait for you like I’d ever do anything else.”

“I’ll come back to you,” he said. “No matter what happens. I swear to you, I’ll come back and marry you. I know I don’t say much, but I promise you that.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks, because even though his voice was still calm, and his face didn’t show much, he was holding your hand like a man trying to memorize the feeling of home.

You wiped your face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Well, that was the least romantic proposal I’ve ever seen.”

His brow lifted. “You said yes. I gave you the business and a ring. What more do you want, fireworks?”

You smirked. “Maybe. A little.”

He groaned softly, pulling you into his chest. “I should’ve just eloped in silence.”

You grinned against him. “And miss all this romance?”

“Yes,” he rolled his eyes, not bothering to argue with you because that’s how much he loved you.

You laughed, and even though your chest still ached, even though goodbye was still coming. For now, you had this - San, a ring, and a future to look forward to.

Dividers by : @sweetmelodygraphics Like my work? Click here to view my previous story.

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