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pirateprincessblog · 16 days ago

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doll

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐦 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬. 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥. 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeong yunho x f!reader insert 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: jeong yunho has a secret. it is locked away in his apartment, away from the dorm, away from his close friends, and away from his idol lifestyle. it waits for him every night, and sends him off every morning. and he just can't wait to end his day and get his hands on his pretty little doll.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 17k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: stockholm syndrome, captive!reader, kidnapper!yunho, manipulator!yunho, angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, degradation, manipulation, toxic relationship, touch deprivation, violence, light jumpscare(once), bondage, victim blaming, anger management issues, threats, blackmailing, petting, dry humping, dacryphilia, dumbification, praise, wax play, pet names, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: the reader isn't necessarily small or petite, yunho is simply that big and strong that compared to him she is written the way she is. :) not completely proofread!

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

yunho detests being away for a long time. more than that, he loathes having to keep making up excuses and lying to his close friends just to go to his own apartment. the time digits on his phone screen do not change fast enough, and soon the man finds himself gnawing the inside of his cheek and thinking whether or not to tap on his most used texting app. he sits in his makeup chair, giving the makeup artist a hard time as his fingers itch to type a message to a certain someone.

"yunho, please stay still. i'll be done faster if you let me work." the woman begs. he sighs, and finally puts the phone in his pocket. at least tries to, before a notification stops him.

doll: yunnie doll: i miss you yunnie :( doll: [file attached]

yunho lowers the brightness of his phone screen, then the volume just in case. his fingers then eagerly tap on the file, and his eyes are met with a sight he will never get tired of seeing: a picture of your face, eyes glossy with tears, cheeks flushed, and lips a pretty pink shade, just how he likes it.

doll: be home soon, pretty please?

yunho: what did i say about being needy and impatient? i'll be there when i get there. behave.

doll: i will. i'm sorry.

he knows that he has worsened the situation. that your bottom lip is probably quivering right now, and fresh tears are threatening to spill down your rosy cheeks. and he doesn't hate it. he only hates that he isn't there to see it. satisfied with your lack of replies, he finally sets his phone aside and allows the artist to finish her job.

when yunho arrives at the apartment, he makes sure to turn the key slowly when unlocking the door. he doesn't turn any lights on, simply putting his jacket on the well memorised spot near the entrance and proceeding into the living room. the window is open, but yunho does not worry. you know better than that.

the place is spotless, which means that you really wished to catch him in a good mood today. and he likes when you work hard for him, cleaning his apartment, cooking for him, ironing his clothes. when he is happy, you are happy. and when you are happy, yunho has hit the jackpot.

in the corner of his eye, he notices a sketch pad and a few pencils neatly set on the corner of the window where you loved to sit. the absence of light meant only one thing; you were fast asleep. you probably tired yourself from crying, then tucked yourself in like usual.

the man's polished shoes lightly click against the spotless parquet floor, legs carrying him to the window where he has bought and installed a hanging chair for you. you loved to sink into the fluffy pillows under the blanket, big eyes looking outside where you know you are not allowed to go. but not once did you whine about it, instead thanking him for allowing you to look. he takes the sketch pad, slender fingers tracing the faint pencil lines on the white paper.

it is his face, from today's live they held before their comeback. when you texted him, you really did miss him. so much that you turned on the big tv which you never usually touch without him, turned on the youtube live and made multiple sketches of his face. you had even sneakily put a few hearts around his head, and a small one on his nose. at the bottom of each paper, your pretty handwriting; my yunnie.

he notices that the pencils are getting smaller from being used and sharpened much more lately. he will get you new ones as soon as possible, just so you don't stop and fall in a slump again. he loves when you do things that make you happy.

instead of going to the bedroom next, he proceeds into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of whisky and for you – a glass of peach iced tea with four ice cubes. you love it when he brings it for you. even though he has bought packages and packages of the product, and you can drink it whenever yourself, it always tastes the sweetest when he brings it to you.

and he does, quietly setting it on the nightstand and taking a sip of his alcoholic beverage. he sets the short glass right next to your tall one with cherry blossom prints, before finally sitting on the bed.

your figure is half covered by the fluffy blanket he has brought you as a present from one of his tours. you had used it every day and night since, going as far as being whiny while it washed and dried. yunho didn't understand your love and attachment to an item like that, until you confessed one night, halfway asleep and a blubbering mess.

"you bought it for me. it means that you saw it and thought of me before doing that. you remembered me, yunnie."

and since then, yunho always looked for presents to bring you. but he was always rushed, and ended up buying you a lousy souvenir or a chocolate from the duty free shops. he promised himself to get you something even if it meant being late for his schedule next time.

the moonlight peeks through the blinds, illuminating your still flushed cheeks and smeared mascara. your tied up hands are hidden under the pillow where your head rests. softly, yunho pulls them from under it, fingers carefully undoing the knots he made himself. the knots which he crafted himself are thoughtfully put together and pretty against your skin. he was generous enough to let you pick the colour of the ropes, and your answer was always the same: lavender.

once your hands are free, yunho brings your wrists to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to each one before turning his attention to your resting face. his fingers itch to caress you, to touch you, but he doesn't wish to disturb your peace.

he doesn't have to, because his scent envelops you, and before he can react, your nose moves like a bunny's one and your eyes open. he can't help the smile that spreads on his lips when he sees your excited expression, just before you throw yourself on him and try to wrap your arms around his shoulders and back. but he is big, much bigger than you, so you decide that wrapping them around his neck is good enough.

"you came." you exhale into his ear.

"don't i always?" yunho has to peel you away from him, and you whine as a protest. but the way his lips lose the playful curve and his eyes become serious make you bite your tongue as a punishment. regret washes over your features, and yunho is quick to grab your chin with his hand, pressing his thumb on your bottom lip. "be good." he warns.

"yes, sir."

and it's all it takes for yunho to soften again, taking you in his arms and standing up. "take the juice for me."

with one hand you hold onto his neck, making it easier for him to carry you, and with the other grab the glass of iced tea from the nightstand. as if it's hard for him to carry you; he is so strong you must be light as a feather to him. without questioning him, you relax in his hands, until you feel him sit and set you on his lap. a blanket is placed over your bare legs, enough to keep you warm as you sit in the hanging chair next to the window. the man takes the juice from your hand, setting it on the window next to the sketch pad. he doesn't ask about it yet, not wanting to pry unless you tell him yourself. he is happy you've returned to your little hobby.

"are you cold?" he asks, cupping your cheeks and then hands to check the warmth. when you shake your head, he presses a kiss to your forehead, lips a plush cloud against your skin. "my pretty girl."

you only smile as a response, still recovering from your sleep.

"you've been busy today." he notices the rearranged watch collection on the shelf below the television. the plants are refreshed, the once sagged leaves now proudly sticking up. "tell me about your day, bunny."

it wasn't unusual for yunho to sit you in his lap and ask about your day. in fact, it was your favourite part of the day. the way he listens and looks at you with his pretty eyes, nodding along to your never-ending sentences, and those unfinished ones that get interrupted with a fresh thought that you will forget if you don't say it immediately, scolding you and playfully pinching your thigh when you stop yourself mid talking and apologize for being annoying. yet lately, yunho doesn't come as often. what was once an every day routine was now a once a week occurrence. even then, he'd come and check on you, laid with you until you fell asleep, then sneaked off and disappeared into the night.

you hated it. you felt stupid, and lied to. he'd convince you that he left just before you woke up, that he stayed the whole night. but he didn't know that you felt his absence the moment he stood up from the bed. there wasn't much you could do anyway. as if he would listen. yunho is as stubborn as he is handsome. insanely.

"i vacuumed, mopped, cleaned out the fridge and threw out the expired products, put on fresh bedsheets, swept the balcony, watered the plants, rearranged your watch and game collection." you listed, head resting in the crook of his neck and eyes fixed on the ceiling. then, you stopped. and so did yunho's soothing circles on your thigh as he held your body close to his. you swallow, thinking of ways to continue before he can sense the shift in your behaviour. "i turned the tv on, watched you. you were very handsome today, yunho."

yunho hums, and for a moment, you relax and almost sigh with relief. the hand that doesn't hold you cups your cheek, pulling your head away from the crook of his neck and resting it on his shoulder so he can look at you. "who was at the door?"

your blood runs cold in your veins. yunho knows you like the back of his hand, and the flaw is in you for not knowing it well by now. you swallow slowly, eyes still locked with his dark ones, not daring to look away. "a man." you know better than to lie.

"what did he look like?" he presses, tone still calm. and it sends shivers down your spine. it is like the calm before the storm.

"i didn't see. i promised i'd never look."

"then how do you know it was a man?" the dark haired man tilts his head, raising his eyebrow.

before answering, your remind yourself that you are telling the truth, and that you should be calm. "he yelled your name."

"and what did my little doll do?" his hand drops from your cheek to your neck, slender fingers lightly grazing the skin just under your jaw before they completely wrap around the neck. the touch is gentle and soothing.

"i ran to the bedroom and hid under the covers. i was quiet, i promise." you are quick to offer him your pinky as a proof. but he simply shakes his head, then presses his lips to your temple.

"good girl."

the grip on your neck goes from light and loose to tight, growing stronger with yunho pressing the sides of it and making you look at him with confusion. "what-?"

your eyes widen as his grip intensifies, ridding you of oxygen slowly and already making you gasp for air. "if..." he starts, face close to yours. so close that his warm breath washes over your paling face, and lips barely brush against yours. "...you ever open the door, or even look through the window while somebody is there... you hear me?" his voice is a mere whisper against your mouth. you nod frantically, hoping that he releases you if you showed obedience. "yeah? i'll kill you."

"ye-es..." you choke out, tears spilling down your cheeks. small hands wrapping around his big one in hopes of stopping him, but to no avail.

"i didn't catch that." he presses further. "do you understand? if you ever think of getting out of here, or even manage to escape somehow, i will hunt you down and kill you."

you stop fighting back, instead opting for nods and silent tears. "i understand."

"if i can't have you..." he takes a look at your squirming and crying state one more time, then finally releases you. "...no one can."

a sob leaves your lips, and your hands are quick to reach your mouth, hoping that he didn't hear or at least sees your remorse.

but yunho doesn't say anything. instead, he pulls you close to him, his clothed body warming up your half naked one. "it's okay." he coos. "it's over."

"was i good?" you dare ask. you need to know that you didn't ruin what you built with him. that he didn't lose his trust in you. that he won't leave you alone for a month again in this place.

"you were perfect."

and that's all you need to hear to be calm. the peach juice waters down on the window as yunho lightly swings the hanging chair, lulling you to sleep with his voice and kisses to your cheeks and forehead.

the next time you open your eyes, you are angry and throw a tantrum. the sheets are on the floor, as well as pillows, and if yunho found you acting this way, he wouldn't be very pleased. but you are getting tired of him putting you to sleep and sneaking off. the mornings where you woke up next to him are long gone. your heart aches for those days.

there is only so much mess you can make with your wrists tied, so you give up on letting your frustration out on the faultless objects. with the fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you make your way to the living room and slump against the cushions on the couch. only after sitting up straight do you notice a small paper bag and a fresh glass of peach iced tea. the pink cursive writing on the bag makes your eyes almost sparkle from joy. it's been a while since yunho has brought you something from the bakery you absolutely adored.

you don't bother with keeping the bag, instead ripping it in half and using it as a plate for the sweet treat. two eclairs: a pink one and a green one. raspberry and pistachio, just how you used to eat in the mornings with him. he'd get the pistachio for himself, and raspberry for you. and you always wanted a bite of his, and then regretted your raspberry one because his tasted better. and he was always happy to exchange it with you.

not once did he complain about you always ordering the same and regretting it. not once did he refuse to let you have a bite. not once did he say no when you wanted to switch with him. not once did he bring two pistachio eclairs. and you might've become spoiled because of things like that, and even though both of you knew it, none of you said anything about it, because you were both equally guilty. you for pushing him, and him for indulging.

but it worked. it always did. that's why you aren't sure why yunho has suddenly distanced yourself from him. you're trying to be good for him, take care of yourself for him, even go as far as leaving windows open as a sign that you could run away if you wanted to, but you won't. at least that's what you liked to think. deep down you knew that yunho would find you even if you dug yourself a grave and hid under a fake tombstone. he'd find you, and then... you don't want to think about it.

but you have no reason to run. he takes care of you. you are his little doll, and your only task is to be pretty and obedient. but lately, you only have to do that two or three times a month. the rest of the days you die of boredom, cleaning the place, rearranging the fridge, turning the furniture around so that the place looks different and fresh. you are running out of ideas.

now, as you flip through the channels on the television, you are working up the courage to tell him how bored you are. maybe ask for netflix or disney. you are tired of watching the same youtube content over and over again. you can feel your brain rotting as you try to keep up with the recent famous youtubers. a movie would've been more educational at least.

as you eat the pink eclair, you scroll on the phone yunho has gifted you recently, with a promise of you not texting or calling anyone else but him. he can track your activity, and has limited your access to certain sites and apps, which leaves you with a few games that don't require network and a music app. it helped with your boredom, but nothing will ever be as interesting as having him around.

your fingers work faster than your brain, and you end up entering the one and only conversation on the screen.

doll: you left :(

it was always schrödinger's cat with him. he will either get mad at you - like yesterday - or indulge in your whiny and pouty behaviour as he secretly enjoys it. the one way to find out is by opening the box - text him.

yunho: my schedule is packed, sweetheart. you know that.

doll: when will i be a part of your schedule?

yunho: don't push it

doll: but i miss you so much

doll: can i please please please call you? pretty please? just for a minute?

on the other side of the screen, at the other end of the city, yunho sighs. it seems you've become more impatient and needy lately, and he knows he is at fault. you wait for him all dolled up, only to fall asleep because he always arrives so late. then, you talk for a while, and he lulls you to sleep before he has to run back to his dorm.

he taps on the phone icon in the corner of the screen after checking whether anyone is paying attention to him in the dressing room. he is the last in line to get dressed, which gives him more than a minute that you asked for so nicely. he can't say no to you. not when he misses you too. but he'd never say it to you out loud.

you pick up after the first ring, and yunho can almost hear the wide smile as you greet him. "yunnie!"

"hi, sweetheart." his heart swells at your still raspy voice. you must've just woken up. "did you have breakfast yet?"

"i only ate the raspberry one."

"oh you naughty little-" yunho purses his lips. "so the pistachio is only good if it's taken away from me, huh?"

"maybe. i took a bite. it's really not as sweet as when i steal it from you." you playfully reply. "but, yunnie..."

"hmm?"

"i actually wanted to ask you something."

"ask away doll. what can i do for you?"

"next time you come over..." you hesitate before continuing. "would you bring me a book or something? pretty please? i get bored when you're not around."

"oh." yunho says, surprised at the odd request. he didn't know what he was expecting. perhaps that you'd ask him if he'd untie you. or something that he surely wouldn't allow. but he forgot how perfect and loyal you are to him, and how much he has lowered your standards. "of course. anything specific?"

"not really. you pick!" you are so happy that you'll get a book that you don't even care which one it is. "no scary ones, please."

the dark haired man chuckles into the phone. in the corner of his eye, he notices the group leader eyeing him as he gets dressed. yunho's smile drops, and he is forced to end the conversation. "i'll see you soon. don't go late to bed tonight. you need your beauty sleep."

"oh. leaving already?" he hears you pout. he'd give anything to playfully tug your bottom lip right now. "alrighty then. i'll go back to missing you until you come again. which is, what, in a week?"

"be good for me." he orders sternly. "no sassing me. and no tantrums."

"no tantrums."

"and no sassing."

"and no sassing, blah blah."

"dollie. i'm serious." he turns around so that his back faces hongjoong. the older man has taken a great interest in yunho's conversation. "be a good bunny for me."

"yes, yunho."

"good."

just before he lowers his phone to hang up, he hears your faint voice. a mere whisper, which he wasn't supposed to hear. but he did. "i love you, yunnie."

and it fucking shatters him and ruins him inside out.

"dumb little doll." he sighs, looking at the wallpaper of the chat of you dressed in his favourite outfit with two pretty ribbons attached to your hair.

jeong yunho didn't expect his schedule to end so early. tomorrow is monday - his day off. technically, his time off starts now, as he steps into the library at the great city mall. and he makes the most of it. a basket securely hangs from his hand, already halfway filled with books with eye-catching covers and interesting plot summaries on the back. you'll love these, no doubt. and even if you don't, yunho won't hesitate to come back and buy more.

he forgot how dull it is for you to stay in that apartment all day and all night. the least he can do is help you find another hobby while he is not there with you. though, he is working on being less absent. but no matter how much he tries, his work schedule seems to track his brain, because they love swamping him with new interviews and variety shows every time he even thinks of having time off. this time he will be careful not to complain much around the staff about his free time.

at the same time as him, someone reaches for the last book he had his eyes on. it was this month's bestseller, all over tiktok, and he needed to buy it. but so did the person next to him, because they held onto it and weren't planning on letting go any time soon. yunho sighs. he truly isn't in the mood for this right now.

just as he gets ready to scold the person, he notices that it is a woman. a young one. a pretty one. so instead of angry words he was ready to spew, yunho simply smiles. "hi."

"hello," she greets back. "my, you've got good taste."

both of them glance at the basket in his hand. the basket that is meant for you. yunho's smile quickly fades, replaced by a serious face and confusing the woman in the process. "it's for my girlfriend."

"oh." disappointment is evident in her voice. she lets go of the book, then opts to look at the shelves instead of the man so she can hide her frown. "well, she'll be very happy with that book."

"she will." yunho smiles to himself, imagining your excited face as you go through the books.

"you must love her very much. that is a lot of money in that basket-"

"that is none of your concern." his brows are furrowed when he looks at the blonde woman. what is it with love talk today?

"oh. you don't love your girlfriend?" she is confused once again.

her confusion is then replaced by fear, caused by yunho who grabs her by the neck and slams her against the shelves. "take your little book and mind your own fucking business. got it?"

he shoves the book into her hands. the woman nods frantically, eyes glossy with tears and hands shaking as they hold the book. finally, yunho lets go of her. the book is dropped on the ground, and she bolts for the door. only then does yunho realize what he has done. but there is nothing he can do about it. thankfully, he wears his mask. he gets to keep his job another day.

yunho spends more time at the mall than he intended. three hours later, he is finally putting the key in the lock and entering his apartment. you jump at the familiar sound, and he hears your footsteps all the way from the bedroom. he sets the bags on the floor just in time to catch you into a hug.

"hi, doll." he coos. you only hum in response, burying your head into the crook of his neck and inhaling the faint traces of his perfume. he smells of vanilla and musk, with a hint of sweat. and you love every bit of it. nuzzling your nose against the sensitive area on the neck right under his ear, you can't help but sigh with content. yunho chuckles, before lightly squeezing your sides as a sign to let go of him.

you do so, without whines or tantrums this time. he wasn't supposed to come for another week, and he has graced you with the sudden visit. and you will make sure he doesn't regret it.

"i want you to go to the bathroom and freshen up while i prepare something." he orders with a kiss to your forehead.

"yes, yunnie." you obey, already on your way to the bathroom.

it doesn't take you more than ten minutes to take a quick body shower, put on a new comfy sleep dress, and put your hair in a hair clip how he likes it. you almost skip through the hallway, the cold autumn air chasing your bare legs until you reach the bedroom where yunho hides. but when you open the door, he isn't there. only a few paper bags on the bed, and a box with a bow on top and small holes poked on the sides.

not sure if you can touch without him, you opt for sitting on the bed and waiting patiently for him. while he is gone, you glance at your chipped nail polish. you should've asked him for polish remover instead. you accidentally spilled it when you foolishly tried to multitask by watching television and painting your nails. does yunho notice things like that? will he say anything about it? what if you just paint over it? will it look bad?

your thinking is interrupted by the tall man entering the bedroom, with two glasses in his hands. one with whisky, and one in similar colour to it. you know it's your iced tea; its sweet scent envelops the room as soon as he sets it on the nightstand.

"my patient doll." he praises with a kiss to your head. his fingers find their spot under your chin, raising your head so that you look up at him. his other hand reaches for your hair that you have neatly pulled back into the hair clip. with a single motion, his finger hooks into a few strands of it, setting them free from the clip and letting them frame your face. "so pretty."

if you could physically melt on the bed right there and then, you would. the way yunho looks at you makes your brain mushy, and your legs weak. after all this time, he still has that effect on you.

"i got you something." he motions for you to stand up, then sits down and pulls you into his lap. your back rests against his chest as his does against the bed frame. you sit cross-legged, making space for the bags so you can reach them easier. he takes the box first, pulling it between his legs that hold you securely and in front of you. "go on, open it."

all the hesitation is gone as soon as he gives the green light. the bow is shoved aside, and so is the lid. a gasp leaves your mouth at the sight.

two light brown ears perk up at the newfound light, and soon enough, a snout peeks out of the box. it sniffs, and sniffs, until it gets the courage to climb out of the box and flips it over, trapping itself under it. yunho removes the box and throws it on the floor, causing both the animal and you to jolt lightly. then, he takes the almost hand sized rabbit in his hand, holding it for you to take.

"it's a rabbit."

"yes, love. it's a rabbit." he confirms.

"it's so cute."

"i know." he kisses your cheek. "a bunny for a bunny. now you'll have a little companion when i'm away."

you carefully take it in your hands, testing the waters. it is pure fluff in your hands, as soft as yunho's hair after a shower. a little ball of fur with two big eyes and big floppy ears. and it is all yours.

"what will you name her?"

"dawn." you have your answer ready.

yunho laughs fondly. "dawn?"

"it's my favourite part of the day." yunho then remembers you telling him how much you prefer sunrises over sunsets. sunsets make you sad. they mark the end of the day. and you hate when things end. dawn brings a fresh day, and the sun is as pretty when it rises as it is when it sets. "thank you, yunho. i love it."

"don't thank me, love. you deserve more than that for being so obedient for me. now go through the rest of the presents. i'll keep your bunny safe while you do it."

"uh..." you look at your tied wrists.

he manages to untie the knot with a single hand, keeping the rope in it and playing with it while you start digging through the bags. with each book you pull out you let out a squeal of excitement. if it weren't for yunho, you would've stayed up all night reading.

but he had other plans once you finished exploring, taking your hand in his and pulling you back into his lap. the bunny is fast asleep on the pillow next to him, making you his main point of attention. the last book is still in your hands, fingers flipping through illustrated pages of the limited edition and eyes gawking at it. the smell of whisky fills your nostrils, and you look up and find him taking a sip.

"what does it taste like?" you wonder.

yunho doesn't answer. instead, he brings the glass to your mouth, pressing the edge against your lips. "small sip. a tiny one."

you listen, keeping your lips closed so that only a small amount of liquid can pass through. something about this is so intimate: him holding you in his lap as you wear your sleep dress, a book in your hands, making you drink from his glass, not breaking eye contact as you do so.

and yunho's view is to die for. you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours, completely under his control and trusting him. your lips finally touch the whisky, and tongue barely peeks to taste it. you pull away, shutting your eyes and pursing your lips in disgust. "eugh."

yunho laughs, then downs the glass before putting it on the nightstand. "let's stick to your peach iced tea, hm?"

you nod in response. then, yunho finds the second light switch above the bed frame, turning it off. the moon is almost full, resting its silver rays on the bed and lighting up yunho's face. you'll never get over how insanely handsome he is. he is almost unreal. sometimes you even ask yourself whether he is a fruit of your imagination from staying alone for so long. no man you've met was this majestic: with hair as black as a raven, eyes dark and shiny as a starry night, porcelain skin, pretty nose with a little bridge where he rests his glasses, and oh, the prettiest pink lips. many times you've found yourself gazing upon his lips as he spoke or ate. and many times you wanted to close the distance as he held you on his lap while he read something or simply scrolled on his phone.

but you can't. yunho doesn't like being touched. at least that's what you gathered from the way he jumps when you try to remove a fallen eyelash from his cheek or straighten a sticking strand of hair. yunho gets very jumpy if you even hug him without warning. and you like to think that he is like that with everyone. that you aren't the issue.

but no matter how he behaves towards you, whether he is distant or can't keep his hands off you, he is still royally beautiful.

"thank you, love. you're not bad yourself."

blush creeps up your cheeks. you didn't mean to say it out loud. but yunho doesn't mind, and instead pulls a cover over both of you and sets the book aside. your legs are cold against his warm ones, still clothed. "won't you change?"

"i'm too lazy." he admits.

"can i change you?" you offer, sitting up and leaning on your elbows.

yunho smiles, eyes still closed. "i'd like to see you try."

in no time, you find his dark blue silk pajamas. that's the easy part. the hard part is yet to come. yunho is strong, and heavy. and big. blush warms up your cheeks once again as your hands find the hem of his turtleneck. he looks dashing in the tight turtlenecks and slacks. but right now, you'd rather see him comfortable. he deserves it after all the hard work.

he only helps you by raising his hands and head in the air just enough for you to pull the top off. you drink in the sight of his muscles, while his torso is covered by an undershirt. you pull the pajama top over his head, then his arms, and finally fix the collar. your eyes then fall on his belt. swallowing thickly, your fingers unbuckle it, and it causes yunho to grab your hands and stop you.

"i'll do it."

"what? why?" you're disappointed.

"i'll do it faster. i'm getting pretty sleepy, we should go to bed."

no amount of pouting convinces him to let you continue. he is out of his slacks and into the pajama bottoms in no time, giving you no time to sulk on the bed. he scoops you in his arms, throwing the fuzzy blanket over both of you.

"good night, bunny."

"whatever." you mumble into his chest.

the hand that rests on your lower back sinks to your bottom, pinching it lightly. you squeal, jolting away from his hand and further into his body. "behave."

"sorry." your voice is a mumble again. "yunnie?"

"go to sleep."

"but yunho." you whine, fingers playing with the buttons of his top.

he sighs. "yes?"

"what am i to you?"

that yunho cannot answer. simply because he has worked so hard on the relationship you two have. if he tells you, he might ruin the illusion. and you might remember. you might remember that it is not normal to be tied up and locked in a stranger's apartment. after all, you don't know the true him. that makes him a stranger to you. he has ridden you of any desire you had to escape, and instead made you depended on him. he has destroyed you, scared you so bad to the point that you started seeing a friend in him. he doesn't know whether you woke up one day and accepted your fate and decided to play along with his sick and twisted games of emotions and obsession, or simply had a switch in your brain click and made you the way you are right now. a loyal and obedient little pet for him to gawk at, dress up however he wishes, and keep locked away where nobody can find it.

he knows it's not normal. he knows his sins. and he knows that behind the loving eyes you give him that there is hate pushed down so deep, scared to make an appearance. he has pushed it there with his own actions. he also knows that just because he recognizes his flaws doesn't make him less guilty. moreover, it makes him even more evil. he knows, yet he doesn't stop.

he wishes he can, really. he wishes he can untie you, let you go, live a normal life, find a girlfriend, stop sneaking out of his dorm at late hours and return at early ones. hell, he could've asked you out on a date instead of putting his hand over your pretty mouth behind the concert stadium and drag you into his car. but then everybody would see you. somebody might even want to take you away from him. and yunho can't allow that. you are his to see, his to touch and his to keep.

you belong to him, heart and soul.

"does it matter?" his voice comes out as annoyed, but it doesn't affect you.

"a little." you admit. "you don't kiss me, but you give me affection other ways. what does that make us?"

it makes you my prisoner, and me your captor. you just don't know it yet. or maybe you've grown blind to it. maybe i've broken your perception of how things actually are. maybe i've convinced you that this all is normal.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have asked." you notice how tense he is under your touch. "good night."

but yunho doesn't want to leave you without an answer. he kisses your temple, then your cheek, and finally, your ear. his lips stay there, brushing against the sensitive ear shell as his warm breath tickles you. "you're mine. that's all that matters."

"are you mine?" you ask.

yunho sighs, pulling you closer to him and completely wrapping his arms around your shivering body. "good night, doll."

you wake up in a cold and empty bed again. excluding the curled up rabbit next to you.

and you are furious.

blinded by rage, you reach for your phone, not even noticing that your hands are still untied. usually he'd tie them up while you are halfway asleep or completely asleep as to not disturb you. before you can press the call button next to his name, the bathroom door opens, revealing the man you were about to scold. he has discarded his sleep top, leaving him only in bottoms and a sleeveless undershirt.

"thought i heard you wake up." he smiles. "come, let's get you ready for the day. i let you sleep in enough."

the phone is forgotten in the blanket, and your legs carry you into the bathroom. he has a toothbrush in his mouth, and his hair is a fluffy mess. you love when he looks this soft. he is less intimidating. not that you are scared of your yunho. he wouldn't hurt you. only if you give him a reason to.

noticing your bare feet on the cold tiles, the man picks you up and places you on the counter near the sink. he hands you your own toothbrush after he squirts the paste on it. comfortable silence swallows the small bathroom, the only sounds being the teeth brushing and yunho's light humming to a song as he stands between your legs that hang from the counter, swinging along with yunho's song. his hand rests comfortably on your thigh, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the exposed skin below the dress.

you've noticed he loves your thighs. to touch them, to pinch them and caress them. and you don't mind. in fact, you love that he can't get his hands off you. it makes you feel attractive. you hope you are attractive to him. sometimes it doesn't feel like that. you look at him with loving eyes, and he... he looks at you like you're his most prized possession. you're just an eye candy. a doll he comes to play with and dress her up just to feast his eyes. perhaps the fault is in you. you don't attract him enough. it could be your appearance. you should switch from the comfy silk sleepwear he has gifted you in every colour so you can be comfortable around the house into something more appropriate and mature. or maybe it was your behaviour. you are so depended on him that you often end up feeling extremely childish.

yet he insists that he loves doing everything for you. he loves to see you in the pastels. he loves when you ask him for help. and he loves making you ask for help by closing the jars too tight, or putting the glasses on the top shelves where you can't reach even if you climb on a chair.

"hey." his finger playfully taps your nose, noticing you have stopped brushing. "where did you go?"

you shake your head, ridding your brain of the thoughts for a while. "sorry. were you saying something?"

"i said," he takes the toothbrush from your hand and continues brushing your teeth for you, holding your jaw in his palm and head in place, then continues talking, "we have a busy day ahead of us."

"sho... you're shtaying all day?" you mumble with foam in your mouth.

"i'm all yours today." he finishes brushing, then motions for you to spit in the sink. you do so, earning yourself a playful pat on the head. "good girl."

"you have a little stubble." you notice, fingers reaching to touch the short hairs on his face. it is not often that yunho lets you touch him like that, so when your hand cups his cheek, you are surprised when he simply looks at himself in the mirror with furrowed eyebrows. he doesn't remove your hand, and you savour every second of it.

"suppose i do. i should shave it off." the man runs both toothbrushes under the warm water, then sets them in the cup next to each other. his dark blue one with black bristles is a funny contrast to your lavender one with white bristles. it's like they resemble the two of you. maybe that's why he bought them. "want to help me?"

"help you?" you raise your eyebrow. he doesn't answer. instead, he hands you his razor, showing you how to properly hold it. while he smears the shaving foam on his face, you can't help but take secret glances at his exposed arms. he notices, then looks down at his undershirt.

"right, i should probably take this off." with one single motion, the fabric lands on the floor and he steps on it. you are left gawking at his bare torso. he doesn't usually undress in front of you. this is the first time you see his defined body. he looks absolutely dashing, and the sight makes your stomach feel fuzzy. you instinctively try to close your legs, but forget that he is standing right between them. "come closer."

you are now sitting on the edge of the counter, and if it weren't for yunho's hands holding your thighs and keeping your body steady, you would've kissed the cold tiles below his feet. he guides one of your hands to his face, then lets you figure it out on your own. you hesitate. "what if i cut you?"

"well... try not to, i guess." he shrugs. "i want to be pretty for you too. just as you do for me."

as gentle as possible, you swipe the razor over his cheek. it leaves a smooth trail behind, without any red lines or spots. little by little, your smooth faced yunho appears, and so does a smile on your lips. with one final swipe, you finish, not cutting him once in the process. "all done!"

"good job, bunny." he praises with a kiss to your forehead. "come on now, let's get you dressed. as i said, we have a busy day ahead of us."

when yunho said busy, you thought he meant cleaning the house or helping him with something. not standing in line at an amusement park with your hands untied. you haven't been outside in forever, if you exclude the balcony. today, yunho has decided to surprise you with a trip to an amusement park. he looks comfortable and fresh, wearing a simple black t-shirt with black ripped jeans, a leather jacket and sneakers. beside him, you are dressed up in his hoodie and his sweatpants, and his denim jacket. somehow, your clothes have been disappearing little by little, leaving you with only sleepwear. does it have anything to do with the fact that he likes to see you in the pastel sets he keeps bringing over instead of actual clothes? no, of course not.

yunho did make you promise him a few things before exiting the house:

no distancing yourself from him

no talking to other people

no looking at other people

no going anywhere without asking him first

no yelling each other's names

keep the sunglasses on your face

have your phone in your hand at all times in case anything happens and one of you needs to get a hold of each other.

and you happily agree. you wouldn't do the opposite even if he didn't make you promise all those things. yunho is all you have, and without him, you'd be overwhelmed and lose yourself. the place is enormous, everything shining bright into your eyes and looking the same. no wonder people get lost there all the time. or perhaps you're just used to the dark apartment that seems to be getting smaller and smaller each day you wake up.

"what would you like to do?" he asks once he shows the tickets at the entrance and guides you inside.

"me?" you are confused. "i- i don't know."

"we have two hours to have fun. we'll do whatever your heart desires."

"really?"

the eyes you give him as you look at him all excited is the reason yunho has you all to himself. those same eyes that have looked at him from the first row at the concert, and he could not look away. you smiled so bright at him when he gave you attention, and when he saw you outside of the stadium, he knew he had very little time. and he knew he had to take you for himself. you were so sweet, and so pretty. simple things excite you, and the sight of you almost beaming is what warms yunho's heart. then, he starts to think that he might've made a mistake by bringing you here. someone could see you, and take you away from him.

no. he will not allow it. he'd rather kill you than let anyone else have you. and that's a promise he made to himself the first night he tied the pretty knots on your wrists.

"yunnie...?" your voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

"hm?" he brings his attention back to you. your eyes have lost the excited glint, and are now filled with worry. his sudden serious face must've scared you. "right. what did you want to do?"

"can i try that?" you point towards a stand.

yunho isn't surprised when he turns around to see big stuffed animals hanging from the stand, and multiple small ones arranged on the shelves against the wall behind the vendor. "do you want to play by yourself?"

"can i?"

"you may."

you roll your eyes at his correction. but before he can scold you for it, you squeeze his hand and drag him to the stand. the game seems simple enough: three balls to throw, and three pyramids of different objects to topple. yunho pays the vendor, then stands aside and lets you focus.

"go pink koala." you whisper, keeping the balls close to your chest. you don't miss yunho's chuckle from the side. "hush! i'm concentrating."

but no amount of concentrating got you the big stuffed koala. even yunho was getting irritated as time passed by. not with you, but with the vendor. "are you kidding me?"

you stop mid throw, eyes darting to the tall man in fear. you haven't done anything wrong. ...have you?

"you're telling me that those plastic cups didn't budge?" he approaches the counter.

the vendor shrugs. "are they down?"

"well, no-" yunho starts.

"oh so you aren't blind. just stupid."

oh no.

you can almost hear yunho's blood boil beside you. your hands instinctively wrap around his arm, hugging it to your body. "yunnie."

"step back." he orders.

and you do, letting go of him. to anyone looking, that would've seem mean and horrible. but you know why he told you to stay away. he doesn't want to hurt you.

"you're telling me," yunho takes a ball from your hand, "that this ball," he aims for the vendor, "didn't even budge those plastic cups?" and hits him right in the forehead.

when yunho is loud, you aren't as scared. it is when he is calm that you are terrified. and right now? he is as calm as the stuffed animals sitting on the shelves behind the man who holds his forehead. yunho crouches to the floor, enough to pick up a ball sized stone. he aims for the first pyramid of plastic cups, and throws with such strength that it manages to bring them down. he takes a second one and does the same with the glass bottles, breaking them and sending shards flying everywhere. the third rock hits the clay mug at the bottom of the pyramid, causing it to ruin the balance of the rest of them and fall to the ground with a crashing sound.

"okay, okay!" the short vendor is desperate. "take the fucking prize and leave my stand!"

"with pleasure." yunho smiles with satisfaction. you don't have time to look at him in awe because he picks you up on his back and approaches the hanging stuffed animals. "go on, angel. help yourself."

your hands know where to go, immediately grabbing the pink koala that is half your size. when yunho doesn't set you down, you look at with a raised eyebrow.

"that's all you want?"

"i can take more...?" your eyes dart between the terrified vendor and an amused yunho.

"we can take the vendor if you want."

you're not sure what is funnier:, yunho's laid back attitude or the vendor's face. in one thing you are sure: you are taking that big grey elephant.

if someone had told you yesterday that today you'd freely walk around outside with yunho by your side, both carrying a big stuffed animal that made every child passing by jealous, you'd say ha, i wish. if someone had told you that today you'd hold hands with yunho as you pass by various stands and he offers to buy you anything from it, you'd say ha, you're crazy. and if someone told you that after a rollercoaster and a haunted house yunho would take you to the ferris wheel and demand that the cabin isn't to be shared with anyone, you'd say ha, your imagination is wild.

yet here you are, sitting inside the cabin high on the ferris wheel, stuffed animals sat across from you and leaning against each other. yunho sits by your side, a cup of chocolate chip ice cream that you have picked just before getting in line in his hand. there was a no food allowed sign, but yunho would rather fight the teen boy in charge of checking tickets than see your disappointed face again when you read the sign. luckily, a single glare from yunho was enough to stop the boy mid sentence as he read it out loud.

"i can feed myself you know." you pout as he brings the plastic purple spoon to your mouth. he specifically asked for that colour.

"i know." he simply replies.

"then... may i?" you reach for the paper cup, but he pulls it away. "please?"

"why?" he brings the spoon to his mouth once it starts melting off it as to not stain your - his - clothes. you blush furiously, the thought of eating off the same spoon as him making your stomach fuzzy. "i like to pamper you. besides, dolls need maintaining."

"they also need to be played with more often." you cross your arms over your chest.

he doesn't respond, instead offering you another spoonful of ice cream. you are distracted by his piercing gaze, unable to look away. it leads to you almost missing the spoon, making most of the ice cream land on your lips rather than between them. and it's like something switches inside of him. his gaze drops from your eyes to your lips, and his hands set the cup down.

"do you have a napkin? i'm a mess-" you start licking your lips. before you can wipe the rest with the sleeve of the hoodie, yunho stops you by grabbing your wrists with one hand and looking deeply into your eyes, just before pushing you down on the seats with his other one on your chest so that you are laying with him on top. "what- what are you doing?"

"stay still." his voice is a mere whisper, a warm breath against your face. you gulp, a little louder than you intended. but he doesn't laugh. his face doesn't change. it is dead serious, with his brown eyes becoming as dark as his raven hair. his pupils are so diluted that they give the illusion of turning black. and you're not sure whether it is good or bad in this situation. "dollie..."

you lay perfectly still. the wheel has stopped, letting the visitors enjoy the view and take pictures. yunho, however, couldn't care less. not when he has you pinned down below him, hair beautifully splayed out, cheeks pink with blush, and eyes shiny and curious. and that damn ice cream on your bottom lip. he closes his eyes, then leans his forehead against yours. his nose gently brushes against yours, sending shivers down your spine and almost making you shudder. that, along with the way his one hand effortlessly holds both your wrists pressed into the leather seats has you seeing stars.

"fuck," he sighs against your lips. "fuck, what are you doing to me?"

"did i do something wrong?" the question is genuine.

"no, no." he shakes his head. "no. you're perfect. you're gorgeous. you're everything a man could ever want. you're everything i want."

he pulls away for a split second, eyes roaming your face for any signs of discomfort. when he doesn't see any, he licks his lips, then gulps.

"you're making me weak." his voice is velvet in your ears, gentle and soothing. his free hand moves the loose strands of hair out of your face, caressing your cheek in the process and continuing the path to your jaw to cup it. "and you don't even know it."

his plush lips capture your bottom one between them, tongue swiping across it to lick the ice cream off. you shudder beneath him, body arching off the seats and finding comfort against his warm chest. his hand lets your wrists go, as well as your jaw, only to find their comfort on your waist. you've never done this. yet your hands seem to move so naturally towards his hair, fingers sneaking between the soft locks and gently massaging his scalp as he nibbles on your bottom lip. a rush of heat takes over your stomach and the space between your legs. the feeling so good and new, yet so empty. you need more of him. you crave him now more than ever.

when he pulls away, it is because he needs to catch his breath, and so do you. his lips have turned a darker shade, and are so inviting to touch. and you do so, allowing yourself a moment of braveness. digits reach for his plump lips, the touch so light that yunho's lashes flutter. he can't help the desire that takes over his body and mind, pinning you further against the seats with his body and squeezing your bare waist underneath the hoodie. "you're killing me."

"how?" you didn't mean for your voice to come out so... pathetically raspy. you clear your throat. "is that bad?"

yunho chuckles in between shallow breaths. "god, you're so precious."

his lips lock with yours once again, leaving small and gentle kisses on them. until your tongue shyly peeks out to try the waters and be smooth like him. and it sends him over the edge. it makes him sit up straight and pull your body with him so that you sit on his lap, legs spread and resting on each side of him. one of his hands snakes further underneath the hoodie and follows a trail up your spine, feeling up your bare skin that burns and shivers beneath his metal rings. yunho can't keep his hands to himself anymore. he kisses you deeply, with his tongue chasing yours and seeking for a taste of you.

you taste him too, enjoying the mix of the chocolate chip ice cream and him. and he tastes better than you've ever imagined. he is intoxicating, leaving you yearning for more each time he pulls away to breathe. your body responds to him, seeking the warmth of his and aching to be held and touched. you are touch starved, and he is at fault. he might be able to redeem himself. especially when his lips take a detour from yours and continue down your jaw and to your neck. his hot tongue swipes down it, following an imaginary line and lightly grazing his teeth against your sensitive skin.

"yunnie..." you wish to call his name, but it comes out as a breathy moan. "please."

yunho pulls away, gulping once again. "what?" he breathes out.

"i- i don't know." you admit. "i need something. i need you."

"doll." he warns. "you can't say things like that."

subconsciously, your bottom lip sticks out in disappointment. you already know that he will playfully tug at it. except this time, he doesn't. he looks you with a gaze so intense that it makes you feel the smallest in the world. "sorry."

"love," the man sighs, regretting his tone. his hands cup your cheeks and bring your face close to his again, enough for him to leave a kiss on the tip of your nose. "i'd destroy you."

"what do you mean?" you should be scared. that can't mean any good, can it? just why are you squirming in his lap then, thighs aching to be pressed together and core burning up?

"oh, sweet little bunny." the realization hits him. you really are that sweet and innocent. "i just mean that..." he stops to think.

he won't be able to resist himself. and he doesn't want to hurt you. yes, he loves to see you cry. and yes, he has the twisted desire to see you split open on his cock as you cry and whine about how big he is, and how you can't fit him. to see pretty tears spilling down your cheeks as you enjoy the pain he inflicts on you, begging for more. he'd stop if you told him to, of course. he would never do anything to hurt you like that.

"you just mean that...?" you wake him up from his filthy fantasies.

his hands leave your body, only to rest on top of your hands which play with the zipper of his leather jacket. "i mean that you're not ready."

i just mean that i am not ready.

"you'll have to be a patient little doll. can you do that for me?" he tilts his head to properly look at you as your gaze is locked on his hands over yours. "angel?"

"yes."

"yes, what?"

"yes, yunnie."

"that's a good girl."

the wheel continues spinning, just when yunho gently removes you from himself and lets you sit on your own. all flushed and hair messy, you turn towards the windows, hoping to fix the situation while you pretend to look at the view and hide from his eyes. a click echoes in the cabin. then another, and another. you turn around to find yunho taking pictures of you from the opposite seats, a soft smile on his face as you try to hide into the hoodie.

"stop, i look horrible!"

"one more, come on." he approaches you, taking your jaw into his hand and making you look at him. he gets the perfect shot, your flushed face on full display, sitting so perfectly in his palm, with big eyes looking up at him. "perfect."

"my hair is a mess." you complain, hands struggling to fix the loose strands.

the dark haired man imitates your pout. "no pouting."

"i wasn't."

you jolt when his fingers tug on your bottom lip. he really loves doing that. "and no lying. you know how i feel about lying."

that you do. he hates lying more than anything. lies, white lies, being silent about things. it didn't matter. yunho hated it. your lips are too pretty to tell lies, he had told you once. truthfulness means a lot to him, and he appreciates it when it comes from you. "sorry."

seeing that he burst your bubble, he crouches in front of you, taking your hands in his and bringing them to his lips to leave a kiss on the back of each one. "i'll fix your hair when we get home. i promise."

the ride comes to an end, with yunho and you exiting last, each holding a stuffed animal. you walk beside yunho, content. you kissed him.

no, he kissed you.

yunho kissed you. it's everything you've ever desired for as long as you can remember. and it's better than you've imagined. his lips were indeed as soft as they looked, maybe even softer. his tongue a burning fire against yours, and hands molding your body like clay in his hold. you're feeling selfish, wishing for more. wishing that the wheel got stuck and left the two of you up there, continuing with the activity. as you look at his side profile - the one you can never get enough of looking at - you decide that you'll get more. you have to.

he has given you a taste, and you're already addicted.

"i need to use the restroom. sit here and wait for me." he places the stuffed elephant on a bench nearby, then the koala on the other end of it. he guides you so that you sit in between, occupying the bench and leaving no space for anyone else to sit. "i could just put you on my shelf and look at you all day long like this. stay here, got it?"

you're feeling foolish, having the whole bench to yourself. but what yunho says, you do. and you sit still, nodding your head playfully. "yes, sir!"

"i'll be right back. got your phone?"

"yes." you show it to him, secure in your hand.

"sunglasses?"

"on." you scrunch your nose, moving the sunglasses further up it.

"good. i'll be back in two minutes."

the feeling is strange. being outside, hands untied, a phone in your hand, and yunho not by your side. a light breeze caresses your hair, and the early setting autumn sun warms your face for one last time today. a once lost feeling creeps up on you, along with the fear of consequences. you've forgotten what it feels like. you've forgotten what free will is. you've forgotten what freedom is. and you haven't sought it for a very long time. and it haunts you, whispers in your ear, makes the hairs on your hands stand straight.

it lures you in.

it makes you stand up. take a step, then another. unsure at first, and a little wobbly. like you've forgotten how to walk without him. and then: you run.

you run through the crowd, around and behind the stands and tents, until your legs start to ache. you aren't used to this much cardio.

afraid that he might see you, you run into the nearest big tent. the entrance isn't the usual one, and you realize that somehow you've managed to sneak in through the exit. it takes a while for your eyes to get used to the dark. the place is poorly lit, with dark red lights illuminating the countless reflections that stare back at you. a mirror maze. out of all places you could've chosen.

you finally see your true form in the poorly lit mirror. hair a mess, face unrecognizable, wrists bruised. clothes that do not belong to you. and a pair of dark glimmering eyes that look at you from the shadows behind you.

"dollie."

how did he find you so quick? was he just testing you? testing your loyalty? did you even have a chance in running away? did you just let all that trust you built with him over the course of months or years fall into water?

but you won't let him catch you. and no amount of mirrors will stop you. you bolt for the exit, following the arrows on the floor that are upside down to you. you don't hear his footsteps behind you. perhaps it is your fear playing hallucinations on you. perhaps he is giving you a head start. or perhaps this tent was his plan too. for you to run in there, failing his test, and suffering consequences.

fear swallows you whole, causing your breathing to become shallow and fast, vision blurry, and legs and hands shaky. the faint red arrows aren't visible anymore, and you rely on putting your hands in front of you and touching your way out.

"i'm so disappointed with you, y/n."

no.

not the first name.

god, no. you can't do this again.

tears prickle your eyes, further blurring your vision. how could you have been so stupid? as if yunho is a fool. you've forgotten what he truly is. you've forgotten what you truly are. a prisoner, and its captor.

"i thought we were finally getting somewhere."

his voice is deeper than usual, echoing through the mirror maze. it makes you turn every few seconds, making sure that he isn't behind you, as if it wasn't enough to simply look at the mirrors in front of you. but your rising panic attack has your senses dull, and quickly you find yourself sobbing as you try to navigate through this torture labyrinth. every reflection is a punch to the gut, showing you your helpless frame and mocking you.

"you said you loved me."

he's close, then he isn't. you hear his footsteps, then you don't. and then, your eyes catch a glimpse of the tent's front opening up and closing. it's right there. just a few turns away. palms carelessly leave prints on the spotless mirror, and legs work hard to keeping your body up for just a little more. a few more turns. that's all you need to do.

a whiff of fresh air hits your face as you take a turn to the left, and you can smell the popcorn and cotton candy on the stands just outside the tent.

a hand is placed over your mouth, and another one around your waist, pulling you back harshly and colliding with another body. the feeling is all too familiar, repetitive even. nails desperately claw at his hands, but you know it's to no avail. you sob into his palm, tears streaming down your cheeks and continuing down his hand.

"you lied."

you are so stupid.

a light breeze caresses your cheeks. it is cold for your face, but your body seems to be warm and comfortable. even your hands. your eyelids peel open, and it takes a while to adjust to the dark. yunho's jacket covers your lap and hands, keeping you warm from the autumn breeze that enters through the rolled down window of his car.

yunho's jacket.

yunho's car.

yunho.

"no-" you gasp, jumping in the car seat.

yunho is quick to put a hand over your mouth. "hush. it's okay."

he doesn't keep it there long, removing it as fast as he touched you. he gives you time to look around and adjust to your surroundings. the first thing you notice is your hands, still untied, then, the street yunho is parked on. "what are we doing here?"

the man doesn't say anything. one of his elbows rests on his rolled down window, holding his head in his palm while his other hand plays with the lavender rope. you gulp, feeling the material on your wrists even though nothing is there. upon subconsciously rubbing your wrists, you notice that you don't wear his clothes anymore. you're wearing the clothes you thought were forever gone.

the concert outfit.

and the street? the street where you live. and your house at the end of it, the yellow trees preparing for winter and shedding their leaves.

"yunho...?"

he scoffs. "you never call me that."

you don't know what to say. you opt for silence, looking at your house in the distance and wondering why he has brought you here. then, you speak. "you kept my concert clothes."

"i kept all your things." yunho sighs, then reaches in the back seat to retrieve a backpack. the familiar scent of vanilla and whisky almost hugs you when he leans back to reach for it, his neck exposed and close to you. you ignore the tingling sensation in your stomach. "here."

he opens it for you, revealing all of your belongings, including your phone. it is smashed, and it doesn't turn on.

"i had to make sure nobody could find you." he confesses. "there's an envelope with money for the new one in the backpack."

"i don't understand..."

"you can go."

you can... go?

he is letting you go? willingly? your gulp almost echoes in the car. legs frozen, and mind a mess, you remain seated. yunho doesn't look at you. he keeps his gaze locked on a tree by the sidewalk, monitoring the swinging branches and falling leaves.

"don't make me change my mind."

it feels odd. unnatural. as if you'll wake up soon. the strange thing is that recently you haven't dreamt of running away from yunho. even now, as he is openly offering you freedom. your bottom is firmly planted on the seat.

"that's it? just like that?" you dare ask.

"yep." he still doesn't look at you.

"you don't have anything to say?" you push further.

"if you think i'm going to apologize, i am not." his eyes finally lock with yours. and it still makes your stomach flutter. "you should really go."

you are overwhelmed - no, overstimulated - by feelings and thoughts. you are angry, and sad. months or years of this odd relationship with him, being in an apartment and not stepping foot outside, locked away from the world, cut off from the social sites, completely at his mercy. eating what he offers you and wearing what he buys you. having contact with him only. trying not to go crazy when spending multiple days alone, sometimes a month too. all because you did something that he didn't like and he was punishing you for it.

and he drops you off at your house. simple as that.

hesitantly, your hand reaches for the door handle after unbuckling the seatbelt, only to find it locked. a sigh leaves yunho's lips, and within seconds, the windows are rolled up and the car starts. "dumb bunny."

"what?"

yunho steps on the gas pedal. his hands grip the wheel with such force that it turns his skin pale. the speed of the car and sudden turns make your body toss around in it. the seatbelt uselessly hangs on the side. "dumb." he takes another turn. "fucking." and joins the traffic on the highway. "bunny."

"i'm sorry!" you choke out, hands frantically holding onto anything you can reach. breathing becomes a challenge as your eyes follow the way he skillfully overtakes other cars, going way past the speed limit. "yunho! yunho, please!"

"i gave you a chance to prove your loyalty. to see if you regret using the chance and running away from me at the park. to prove that you love me, like you said it." he seethes. "and you reached for the handle."

"you offered!"

"doesn't mean you should've taken the offer!" he yells back. his voice is animalistic, deep as he almost growls the words and loud, sending shivers down your spine and coating your body in sweat. he glances at you, enough to make you start trembling. his eyes are pitch black under the lack of lights on the highway and dilated pupils from anger. "you're mine, you hear me? mine!"

"slow down," you sob, "please."

"i told you once, doll. if i can't have you..." he takes a sudden turn, exiting the highway and continuing into the forest that surrounds it. he avoids trees, driving between them and scaring the animals away, until he finally stops in front of the lake that is hidden among the greenery that is now swallowed by the dark of the night. "nobody can."

a blood curling scream leaves your lips as your eyes meet your doom. yunho drives the car into the lake at full speed.

he doesn't exit. he stays inside with you, calmly looking ahead of him as the front of the car slowly starts sinking. his seatbelt holds him in place, while you are left tilted along with the vehicle. trembling hands reach for the man. even in this moment, you reach for him.

"yunho..." your voice is a mere whisper. "yunho, please."

"nobody can have you."

"they won't." you assure him.

"nobody can have you."

"i'm all yours."

"nobody can have you."

"please don't kill me."

brown eyes finally look at you. his gaze softens at your flushed and wet face. he has control over the situation. you just don't have to know that. this is where he wants you: begging him to spare your life, making sure to let you know that he is the only one you have. that he is all you need. and that there is no escape other than death from that. he would rather drown with you than let anyone else have you.

"i want to live." you beg.

you can't help but feel comfort when his hands cup your face. ringed fingers brush your tear stained cheeks, and he can't help but lean in and press his lips to a fresh one that started its journey down your rosy skin. "you'll live. with me."

yunho leans his forehead against yours. his warm breath caresses your lips - a bittersweet refreshment of your memory. how can a man kiss so softly, but touch so roughly?

"tell me you're mine."

a sneaky glance helps you determine the current danger of the situation. you still have time to exit through the trunk. but it all depends on yunho. if he has decided to not let you go, nobody can help you with it. "i'm yours."

"good girl."

the familiar feeling of rope is back on your wrists. you'd be lying if you said that it didn't bring you comfort. the outside world seemed scary enough for you to embrace being locked in. yunho isn't the reason. he only did what he had to do to put some sense back into you.

the red rope is tied into a complex heart between your wrists, and yunho gives it a tug to tighten it and restrain you. "there. all done."

"it's pretty." you compliment. you don't ask why the rope is red. you know. you get the red one each time you do a foolish thing, so that every time you see it, you are reminded of how you let him down. "thank you, yunnie."

to your surprise, he loosens it, enough to slip it off your wrists and not undo the knot. he stands up from the bed, then gently removes the sleeping rabbit from your lap and sets it on the floor in the hallway near the cage and food, before coming back and offering you his hand to stand up. you are still soaking wet from the lake, with his hoodie hanging around your waist to warm your legs. you accept it, standing up and leaving a wet spot behind on the sheets.

"i'm sorry."

yunho only smiles, pressing a kiss to the hand he holds, and guides you to the bathroom. "don't worry about it."

you are surprised at the sight once your bare feet step on the cold bathroom tiles. the bathtub is filled with steaming water, and a few candles are lit around it. your hand is abandoned by his for a moment, just enough for him to shuffle through one of the drawers near the sink. a towel awaits for you, neatly folded on the stool near the tub. your hands untie the hoodie around your waist, letting it fall with a splat. little by little, the heavy wet pieces of clothes form a pile on the ground. by the time yunho turns around, you are left in only your underwear, body shivering from the midnight breeze that sneaks in through the tilted window. yunho stops in his tracks, eyes falling on your exposed skin that is illuminated by the soft orange light of the candles.

"uh," his gaze drops on two packages in his hands. you feel a boost of confidence storming through your veins. "i got you these bath bombs. which one would you like?"

"you pick." you shrug.

yunho looks still avoids you, turning his back towards you and approaching the tub. his hands unwrap the light pink one, dropping it in the water and helping it dissolve faster by making circular motions with his fingers on the surface. he doesn't stop until the clear liquid becomes a milky white with a pastel pink hue, with rose petals floating on the surface. "milk and rose. you'll like it."

to your disappointment, he passes by you without sparing you a glance. you can't help the hand that reaches for his, fingers intertwining and eyes that have proved themselves useful many times. he flinches, as usual. but he doesn't let go. "stay." the word comes out in a whisper.

"doll." he warns. "be good and-"

his eyes widen when you climb on your toes and rest your hands on his shoulder, lips lightly ghosting over his. you don't touch them yet. not when his hands grab your waist, and not when a sigh leaves his lips and caresses yours. only then do you finally press them against his. fingers are eager to play with his hair on his neck, and body leans against his chest to seek warmth and comfort. and the brown eyed man gives it to you, pulling you into him so that your cold skin can rest against his burning one. you can feel him, even though there is a layer of material separating you.

when your tongue peeks out to swipe over his bottom lip, yunho pulls away. you can't help the whine that leaves your lips. "you're going to be the death of me." he sighs.

"will you stay?"

"and do what?" he tilts his head playfully. "watch you enjoy your hot bath while i freeze?"

"you could join me-"

"no." he firmly says. and just like that, all you've done with the kiss has fallen into the water. his hands abandon your body, only to find your clip that he has put there himself once he helped you out of the lake. your hair is still damp, and it falls loose when he takes the butterfly clip off. it was his favourite one. "go."

"but yunnie..."

"bunny."

"you won't see me naked." you finally say.

one of the rules with yunho was that you are not to see each other naked. even now, with only your underwear on, you were pushing it. yunho made sure to let you know that he doesn't want such things with you. you only need to sit pretty for him and be obedient.

"please? you can turn around while i undress and turn back when i get into the tub."

"you still haven't answered my question. what will i do while you enjoy your little bath?" he turns around, letting you free yourself from the damp underwear. they join the pile on the floor, right next to yunho. his eyes fall on the discarded panties, and he has to close his eyes and breathe in to keep his composure. you've come a long way from being too shy to ask for a glass of water.

"you promised you'd fix my hair."

once he hears the water gently splashing, he turns around. the water is murky, hiding your bare body from his hungry eyes. while you settle down in it, yunho wastes no time in getting a hairbrush and bringing the stool to the tub so that he is behind you and the only way you can face him is by leaning your head against the rim of the tub. he places a smaller towel on it so that your neck doesn't hurt while you lean back. "clever girl."

you fail to hide the proud smirk on your face. a sigh leaves your lips when yunho's fingers sink into your hair and massage your scalp. you can't believe that those same hands almost dragged you to death just two hours ago.

"stay still." his voice is a whisper. you haven't even realized that your head was leaning into his touch, dragging your body out of the water and exposing you just above your breasts. you sink back in, covered all the way to the shoulders. "good girl."

his voice has never sounded so husky and... deep. manly. a warm sensation pools at the bottom of your stomach, and seems to start bubbling and getting hotter when your fingers brush against your thighs. it is not the first time that yunho does your hair. he loves doing it. but something about him doing it right there and then had your mind spinning. you tilt your head back to glance at him. the sight is both cute and funny: yunho dressed in all black, with a serious and focused expression as he does the familiar braid in your hair, and a lavender scrunchy on his wrist. soon enough, he pulls that scrunchy off his wrist and ties your hair with it, then keeps it in his hand to play with it.

"my pretty girl." he coos. his other hand reaches to caress your cheek, and a smile spreads on his lips, seeing how your body immediately responds to his touch. you sigh in content, nuzzling your face further into his warm hand. "do you trust me?"

"yes," you respond, lost in the way his hand trails down your neck and grazes your collarbones. "yes, i do."

yunho hums. your braid is left to hang in the air while he reaches for something. you trust him. which is why you keep your eyes closed, not bothering to see what he is doing. a gasp leaves your lips when you feel something hot on your collarbones, and your eyes shoot open.

yunho holds a candle above you, tilting it so that hot wax drips on your body. the feeling is strange. the pain is there, yet it adds to the fuel between your legs. he sets the candle back on the flat rim of the tub, then reaches for another one. "yunho-"

"you can take it." he encourages. he tilts it again, and you can't help the shuddering sigh that leaves your lips when it falls on your chest, grazing your tense nipples. "does that feel good, dollie?"

you can only nod while your fingers reach to touch your sensitive breasts. they accidentally graze the perky buds, and if you didn't bite your lip in time, yunho would know what you were doing under the murky water.

"words, precious." he tilts the candle again, more wax coating your collarbones and neck as his other hand still caresses your cheeks. "let me hear you."

"it feels good, yunho."

yunho usually hated when you used his full name. he loved your nickname. but now, as he listens to you say his whole name in almost a breathy moan, he can't help but gulp and bite his inner cheek. "one more."

fingers trail from your breasts to your core, digits eagerly pressing into the plush folds and giving you a lick of satisfaction. when yunho brings a fresh candle to your body, you can't help the impatient whimper that leaves your lips, causing him to lose it and pour it all at once on you. his pants tighten at the sight, dried wax coating your burning skin, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and eyes rolled back. your head is still resting on the rim, tilted so that he can look at your pretty face that has a warm orange hue due to the candles.

then, he notices the water moving. and he notices your hand that has disappeared under it. yunho yanks your braid, making your eyes widen. "are you touching yourself?"

you know better than to lie. but you also know how much yunho doesn't like when you touch yourself. he gets jealous, he says. yet he won't ever touch you. your hand freezes between your legs, but no matter how slowly you try to remove it, yunho already knows. it doesn't fix the damage.

"stupid little bunny."

as if you want him to meet his end, your eyes become glossy with tears, and your bottom lip quivers. he didn't mean to make you cry. but you knew the rules. and you never broke them. sometimes you'd threaten that you would, only to rile him up and make him give you attention. you've never actually done it. now that you did, yunho is baffled. he hates that he wants to keep watching. he doesn't need to look at your body. your face is enough.

"i'm sorry." your voice trembles.

then, yunho's gaze hardens. it makes you worry for a split second, until his hands reach for your knees that peek out of the water. he separates them, slow as ever, and you swear you hear his breath hitch. "keep going."

"what?" you blink your tears away, to his disappointment.

"i want to watch." his eyes are fixed on yours. when you start rising from the water to give him a view, yunho shakes his head. "i want to watch you enjoy it."

you should've known by now that he has odd requests and ways of doing things. like insisting on feeding you. holding your hand or carrying you when going to another room. putting your hair in a clip by himself. choosing which clothes you'll wear for him. this, however, you did not experience yet.

"go on, pretty. i'll guide you." his soft lips leave a kiss on your forehead. "but you'll have to talk to me when i say something to you. got it?"

"yes, sir."

he nods as a sign to keep going. he doesn't have to do anything else, because your fingers are back on your folds. he gently tugs at your braid; a sign to stop. "patience." he growls. "cup your pretty breasts for me. don't touch your nipples just yet."

back to the start. your hands obey his command, and soon enough, your thighs find themselves squeezing together and rubbing against each other. fed up with your impatience, yunho separates your knees once again, now keeping his hands firmly planted there.

"tell me," he whispers into your ear, "if it was me touching you..." he trails.

you whimper at the thought.

"what would you want me to do next?"

your imagination runs wild. you'd want him to do everything. the things you can't even say out loud. things that would surprise him. so you settle for a simple one. "kiss me."

he chuckles. "that i can do."

he teases first, lips hovering over yours instead of touching. "please." you breathe out.

"touch yourself for me." he demands. "soft circles on your pretty buds."

when you do so, he finally presses his lips into yours. it is needy, and hot. the way his teeth graze your bottom lip, tugging it and nibbling on it while your fingers work on yourself. small whines are swallowed by his hungry kisses, muffled by his hot tongue against your inexperienced one. he guides you by slowing down and letting both of you savour every lick and nibble. if you weren't in the water, you are sure you'd be burning up.

one of his hands abandons your knee and reaches for yours that grips the bathtub rim, and he guides it back under the water and to your core. he only touches your hand, careful not to accidentally graze your thighs or your slick core. your fingers move with his help, slowly circling your clit and removing them when he feels your body become tense. he denies the sweet pleasure multiple times, enjoying the way you squirm under him and whine into his lips.

"yunnie-"

"yunho." he growls. "call me by my name."

"please, please, please." you chant. "yunho, please."

"sensitive?" he asks, knowing the answer. this time, yunho pulls away, opting to admire your face and finally focusing on you. "i'll make you feel so good, doll. make you wish for nobody but me."

"please do." pleas don't stop leaving your mouth. under other circumstances, you'd feel pathetic. but right now? you are ready to get on your knees and beg. "touch me."

"i can't." he stops.

you groan in frustration, losing the orgasm once again. "why not? why won't you ever touch me? why do you keep me if you won't do anything with me? am i ugly to you? am i that unappealing? am i not enough sexually attractive? am i too inexperienced for you? is there someone else? if there is, why am i here? what do i have to do to-"

in a single motion, yunho pulls you out of the water. it splashes everywhere, including his clothes. the look on his face changes. he is furious. you are pulled into the room, water dripping behind and leaving a trail all the way to the bed. he doesn't seem fazed by the fact that you are completely naked in front of him, and that he has seen you, and thus, broken his own rule. yunho throws your body on the bed, then reaches for the red ropes on the night stand.

"no, no-" you regret your words. "i'm sorry! i didn't mean it!"

"shut the fuck up." he growls. your wrists are back in the ropes, and he wastes no time in tightening them. he turns your body around so that you lay down on your stomach, and then pulls your braid so that your head is tilted back, just like in the bathtub. "look at me."

"yunho, please-"

"look." spank. "at." spank. "me." spank.

eyes finally lock with his. even through the blurry vision, you can see just how dark they have become. you always do this. you build something, little by little, and then you become greedy and ruin it. "i'm sorry."

"what do you want?"

silence. the pain on your scalp softens, with yunho loosening his grip. his brows are furrowed, and you know you've made him more furious than ever, just by the look on his face. "what?"

"do you want me to touch you?"

"i-" you do. it's all that's on your mind right now. he had given you a taste, and you want it all. "yes."

"after all i did to you?"

this time, you are the one whose brows are furrowed. he does know what he did to you. and he does acknowledge how bad it is. yet all of it doesn't stop your body aching for his. soul yearning for his. mind longing for his. you want yunho in every way possible. you want him to be yours, as much as you are his. only then will you be happy, and only then will you stop with the tantrums.

"yes." you confirm.

"oh, doll." he turns you over again, this time gently. finally, he looks at you. all of you. he can't help the hand that reaches to caress your wax covered collarbones and chest, traveling down your stomach and to your thighs. "if i touch you how i want now..." he trails, gaze locked on your shivering body. "you'll belong to me only."

"don't i already belong to you?" you point out.

"you don't understand." he shakes his head. "i'll make it so that your body only responds to me, even when we are out in public. i'll make it so that your mind doesn't dare to think of other men. i'll mold you so that i am your only match, mentally and physically. i'll make it so that your walls mold to the shape of my cock, and can only take me and nobody else. i'll make it so that you cry from pleasure every time i get my hands on you, and i set high standards for you, that even if you tried to cheat, you'd be disappointed and crawl back to me."

"yunho-" you breathe out, gulping at his words.

"i'll spoil you. i'll kiss you. i'll fuck you. i'll do anything you ask me to. just..." the man looks deep into your eyes before he removes a stray strand from your face, tucking it behind your ear. he places his hand under your chin, raising your head so that you can properly look at him with those glossy eyes of yours. "promise me."

"promise you what?"

"promise that you belong to me. me and nobody else."

"i promise." the words come out in a whisper.

he shakes his head, not satisfied with the answer. "say it."

"i belong to you, yunho. my body and soul is yours." finally, he is satisfied. "under one condition."

he raises one eyebrow, surprised at your request.

"you can have me as long as i have you."

"you have me."

"no, i don't. not like i want to. what if you meet somebody prettier? more interesting? i've seen your coworkers. they're all gorgeous. i can't compare to them. what if you decide you want a normal relationship and grow bored of me?"

one confession after another has yunho's gaze softening. he wishes for nothing more than to press his lips against yours and kiss you like there is no tomorrow. but he has suppressed your feelings and opinions enough. "i would never get bored of you. you think i went to such lengths for something that is temporary?"

"then why don't you ever touch me?"

"because," his finger stops the fresh tear from rolling down your cheek, "once i have you, i won't be able to keep my hands off you."

"i don't want you to keep your hands off me." you hastily admit. he opens his mouth to speak, but you stop him by capturing his lips with yours. he relaxes into it, letting you lead by simply opening his mouth and inviting your tongue in. he is already burning for you, as are you for him. you pull away for a moment. "you said multiple times that you like to pamper and take care of me. now you can properly show it to me."

"i will take good care of you." he breathes out, gracing you with a hot kiss to your lips before trailing down your jaw and neck. "i will be everything you could want or need." his teeth graze the collarbone, making your hands snake around his neck. "i will be yours as much as you are mine."

his tongue peeks out, creating a path between your breasts, down your stomach, until he reaches your pulsating core. his hands rest on your waist, keeping your body firmly planted on the wet mattress. it is odd seeing someone like yunho be mesmerized by something. seeing his eyes locked to your glistening folds and bottom lip trapped between his teeth made your stomach erupt with butterflies. he is still holding back.

suddenly, the red rope catches his attention. you are still tied up. but when he goes to undo the knot, you stop him. "i want to keep them on. so you know i truly belong to you."

"doll..." voice pure velvet, yunho looks at you from between your legs. "what do you want me to do?"

you think. and think. but really, it is that simple. "everything you wanted to do, but you held back."

"you don't know what you are asking for." he warns.

"you said you'll do anything i ask." you remind him of his words spoken just minutes ago. "i ask you to not hold back."

with a groan, yunho pulls your body to the edge of the bed, burying his head between your thighs and inhaling your scent before letting his tongue taste you. immediately, your back arches off the bed, and tied up hands reach to grab his hair. the grip he has on your thighs to keep them apart is strong. so strong that you know they'll bruise.

"fuck-" his fingers spread your folds, leaving your sensitive clit exposed to his flattened tongue. "fuck!" you cry out.

he barely slides one finger inside your tight walls, and you can already feel the orgasm rushing. he has denied it many times today already, and he decides to be merciful and close his lips around the bundle of nerves and suck until you fall apart on the bed and his tongue. he doesn't give you a break, instead pulling his mouth away from you and sliding another finger inside. "so pretty."

digits easily find the plush button on the upper wall, caressing it and stimulating it to the point of making you cry from pleasure. tears spill down your cheeks, hands grip at the sheets, and body arches from the bed while your walls clench around him. when you look down to beg him to give you more, you choke on your breath. yunho humps the edge of the bed, gaze fixed on the way your walls swallow his fingers as he chases his own release. "yunnie..."

"yes, pretty girl?"

"you're humping the mattress while i am here?"

"you look and taste so sweet. i don't want to ruin it." he admits.

a laugh escapes your lips, and is interrupted by a moan when his other hand rests on your overstimulated clit. "i want you."

and just how can yunho say no to you?

"i'll try to be gentle." vision blurry and mind hazy, you don't question how fast yunho has taken his clothes off. he is on top of you, planting a kiss on your forehead before guiding his aching cock to your entrance. you clench before he even slips inside, making it harder for his wide length to separate your walls. inch by inch, yunho gets lost in the feeling of you, and can't help but slam his hips into yours. a cry meets his ears, making him realize what he did. "oh, doll. i am so sorry."

"it's alright." you assure, a hiccup betraying you.

"you feel..." he pulls away, only to slide back in again in a gentler motion and let out a satisfied hum. "oh, you feel heavenly."

all you can think about it the bulge in the bottom of your stomach. you feel him deep, and it is as enjoyable as it is painful. he is thicker than you've imagined, or ever seen, and he splits you open so beautifully, easily gliding in and out. "i want... i want..."

"you're a drooling mess, dollie." he teases. and he isn't wrong. you are so intoxicated by his smell, his touch, and the way he gazes at you, that you can't do anything else but lie down and take what he gives you. "fuck, i'm not going to last long. that doesn't usually happen."

"i'll take that as a compliment."

yunho picks you up by your waist, angling your body off the mattress and finally snapping his hips into yours, reaching into the places you never knew you had and drawing cries and moans from you. "say my name." he growls against your neck, the sticky tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each snap.

"yunho," you gasp.

"louder." snap.

"yunho," you try, but you are weak already.

"louder." he yanks at your braid, sending delicious pain to your scalp and inching you closer to your release. "say my name. tell me who you belong to. tell me who's fucking you right."

"yunho!"

"good, good girl." he praises, and finally, lets you relax as he helps you reach the peak and spill. "i'll ruin you for anyone else."

it takes you over the edge of the peak, making your body explode with pleasure that rushes all the way to your toes, fingers and scalp. you shake under his touch, riding out the waves of pleasure while he still works on getting himself to orgasm.

it doesn't take long, seeing your state of flushed cheeks, half closed eyes that lazily gaze at him, and the knot between your wrists. he spills into you, filling you to the brim and pulling out, only to squirt the remains on your abused clit. warm seed spills out of your hole and onto the mattress. you don't protest when his fingers collect the white fluid, only to push it back in.

"fuck, you really are perfect." he kisses your cheeks, then your forehead, and finally, your lips. "i guess i'll go run you another bath."

"guess so," you laugh. you watch him run into the bathroom and get his phone from the nightstand in the process, and can't help but glance at his tushy when he walks. "and yunho?"

"hm?"

"i meant what i said. i am yours, as long as you are mine."

"yes, doll." his eyes are fixed on the screen, and he is lucky he is hidden in the bathroom. he skims over the message over and over again, wondering whether he was reading it right. if you weren't right there, he would've thrown the phone at the mirror. it was as if his reflection was taunting him. smiling at him. freaking him out.

hongjoong: i know what you did, yunho. i gave you enough time to correct your mistakes or admit to it. if you don't want the police involved, you better set the poor girl free and we'll never talk about this again. last chance.

they know what he did. and they won't be afraid to rat him out. but no matter what promises he made to you today, one thing is still clear:

if he can't have you, nobody can.

and if hongjoong tries to take you away from him, may all deities help him.

1K notes · View notes

honeyhotteoks · 1 month ago

Text

across stardust - one (j.yh)

summary: 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. one | two | three | four

note: please enjoy this truly self indulgent romance. will be four parts total, and i'll post each as soon as they are ready to go. happy comeback week, and i hope everyone enjoys this 💖

tags/warnings: idol!yunho, makeup artist!reader, fem!reader, soulmates au, soulmate identifying marks, soulmate tattoos, tattoed!reader, a lot of fluff and tenderness, love at first touch, shared feelings/emotions/physical sensations, anxiety/stress over what to do, reader's family isn't the best, kq is not the best company for the purposes of this fic!, light smut including - heavy makeouts/grinding, hand kink, size kink, phone sex, sexting, fingering, jacking off, dirty talk, praise, use of good girl, use of pet names like baby/jagiya/sweetheart. basically this fic is an excuse for me to write star-crossed desperate love so i would say it's the literal opposite of a slow burn lmao

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: fantasy, romance, smut || soulmates au

word count: 17.9k

It’s eleven in the morning when your day starts, hiding in the green room of a concert venue in Berlin, and the day feels lost already. With Eunji and Dahan ill that only leaves you and Iseul to handle makeup for all eight members and with how exhausted you are from yet another night of little sleep, you don’t know how you’ll be able to keep up. You’re trying to stay awake, but while the members are all out on stage learning their marks and rehearsing the improvisational moments for this tour stop, the green room is quiet and you keep nodding off.

“Bad night?” Iseul’s voice startles you out of one of your dips into sleep and your body jerks up right.

“Fuck,” You breathe, “hey,”

“Here,” She pushes a bright can into your hands, an energy drink, “you need this.”

“I need to be sedated,” You grumble, taking it from her, “the time difference is never this hard,”

“Mm,” She shrugs, “it’s unpredictable,”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I guess.”

The thumping music outside as they run through another track is starting to give you a migraine. You take a long sip of the drink and then leave the can on the table in front of you, choosing instead to hide your face in the sleeves of your sweatshirt and let out another long sigh.

“Girl,” Iseul nudges you, “you look like shit. Your station looks like shit.”

“Thank you?”

“In thirty minutes we’re going to be busier than we’ve been since that Inkigayo stage for Answer,” She points out and you grimace at the reference. Back then it really was just a skeleton staff and one of the makeup artists quit on the spot, too stressed to continue the work and walking out in the middle of doing Yeosang’s foundation.

What a mess those old days used to be. Nostalgia sometimes makes you forget how late those nights were and just how impossibly tired you had been. This feels too reminiscent of that for sure.

Iseul taps your shoulder to get you to lift your face as she continues, “I know you’re tired, but I can’t do this shit on my own. I need you.”

“Okay,” You breathe, scrubbing your hands over your face to jolt yourself awake as best you can, “you’re right, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be sorry,” She gives you a sympathetic smile, “I get it.”

This tiredness feels different though, so deeply ingrained in your body. Something’s been keeping your adrenaline running like a long, drawn out anxiety attack and you can’t understand it. You’ve been on tour before, you’ve been on planes, you’ve had long days, and you’ve worked with this exact group for years. There’s nothing on paper that should be making you so anxious, but the threads of it are humming in the deep back of your brain even now.

“Come on,” Iseul prompts again, pulling you to your feet, “let’s get you in gear.”

“Right,” You take another long sip of your energy drink and pray it starts kicking in soon and that the effects won’t make you feel crazier, “let’s do this.”

She helps you put your station together with ease and then pull yourself together. Within those precious thirty minutes of calm before the storm you’ve downed two cans of pure caffeine, assembled your station and strapped on your brush belt, and tried to make yourself some form of presentable by slicking your hair back into a smooth knot and adding a coat of lip balm.

As always, the boys have used the ladder game to determine hair and makeup order which means those at the bottom of the list have more time to relax fresh-faced on the couches before getting poked and prodded and wrapped up like presents for thousands of screaming fans. With only you and Iseul available it’s about to be a race against the clock to get them ready.

Their managers hustle them from the stage to the back rooms where the rest of the staff waits, and the members gather around you and Iseul and your makeshift makeup stations.

“Alright,” Iseul says as the members quiet down, “we’re down some staff as you know,”

They nod attentively and you trade a close lipped smile with Hongjoong.

“We’re just going to do the best we can as quickly as we can,” She explains, looking down at their names on a slip of paper, “Wooyoung, Yeosang, Jongho, San,” she recites, “you’re with me in that order.”

You run through the names on your slip, “Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Yunho, that leaves you with me.”

Iseul nods as you finish your words, “Please be ready to slot in when the person in front of you is finished, and then you can go directly to wardrobe for your soundcheck outfits,”

“We’ve got it,” Hongjoong nods, “and if there’s anything you both need,”

“We’ll be fine,” Iseul assures him, “but it’s definitely going to be cutting it close,”

“We should get started,” You cut in, “if you’re ready?”

Hongjoong jumps to your chair immediately and Wooyoung steps to Iseul’s, and before you know it you’re off.

The room is alight with activity while you both work, only you don’t have a relaxed pace and only two members to perfect. You’re used to working with Wooyoung and Seonghwa, they’ve been your assigned members for as long as you’ve worked with Ateez, but when staff shortages or timing gets tight, it can be a bit of a free for all.

You stay focused and execute each member’s makeup like a well rehearsed dance, and you do your best to ignore the buzzing anxiety in your veins. For a little while, you handle it like a professional.

When Yunho finally settles into your chair, about a single second after Mingi leaves it, the exhaustion careens back into you sideways. It takes you a minute to prep your tools this time, and you’re pretty sure that without the artificial pick me up of the energy drinks you’d be passing out on the spot.

You steady your hands against the vanity in front of you and take a deep breath, and when you look up you catch Yunho’s eyes in the mirror, a tiny crease of concern between his brows.

“You okay?” He checks.

You give him a smile, albeit a tired one, “The jet lag is really hitting this time,” you explain, “but I’m fine,”

He looks sympathetic immediately, “Same for me, I feel like I’m barely sleeping,”

“That’s not good,” You tell him as you prep your stainless steel palette, “you have a long night ahead,”

“I’ll sleep tonight,” He says, “I’m sure,”

“After dancing for three hours I’d hope so,” You smile and pick up your first set of tools before turning towards him.

“Do you have anything you could take?” He asks, studying your face, “A sleep aid?”

“I usually don’t like to,” You admit, “I always feel groggy the next day,”

“And we have another show,” He finishes for you, his lips coming together in a thin line as he thinks.

There’s nothing really for him to do, but it’s kind of him anyway to be so concerned. They always are, this rare group of eight idols who remember staff birthdays, bring coffee on the early morning schedules, and always, always take extra time to clean up after themselves so it’s not left to anyone else.

You take a step closer towards him and glance over his bare face and then it occurs to you, “You know what’s funny?”

“Hmm?” He tilts his face up to you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever done your makeup before,” You smile, it’s a ridiculous thought.

“No way,” He blinks, thinking back, “it’s been… forever, are you sure?”

You nod, “You’re usually with Eunji,” you tell him, “and even when we’ve swapped around, I don’t think so. I think you’re the only member I’ve never done,”

“Wow,” He laughs, eyes bright, “well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“Is there anything,” You start to ask him if there’s anything he prefers, anything special about his makeup that he gets done with Eunji that he asks for, but Iseul catches you idle as she pats foundation onto San’s forehead and answers for you.

“His skin gets dry,” She jumps in, “don’t use too much powder,”

Yunho grins, a laugh on his lips at the directness of her words.

“And don’t use that oil,” Iseul adds, “that primer oil you like, he’ll break out by tomorrow,”

“Thank you, Iseul,” Yunho says, and you watch San’s face as he stifles a chuckle.

“Noted,” You smile, and you swap out two of the products in your hands before taking up your position by his side again.

You’ve gotten used to working with idols, to working with Ateez and with Yunho specifically, and yet when you get this close a little flutter of nerves rocks through your belly. He’s handsome, and if you’re being honest he’s just your type. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or this weird feeling in your chest that you’ve been dealing with all week, but for the first time in a long time you think about what it would be like to kiss his lips.

“How do you want me?” He asks, breaking your thoughts, and you have to shake off the impending blush at the way his words make you feel. You have work to do, and you had gotten over your silly little crush on him years ago, you need to get a grip.

You recover fairly smoothly though with a quick smile, “Right,” he’s never worked with you before, and he’s looking to you for direction, “head back a bit, please, and eyes closed,”

“Alright,” He follows your instructions to the letter.

“Okay,” You tell him, “primer first. Let me know if anything bothers you,”

“Mhm,” He hums and stays relaxed.

He has the loveliest eyelashes, that’s the thought that echoes through your brain as you start working on him, and you wish it never occurred to you at all because you keep glancing up at his closed eyes. He lets you work, he knows you’re exhausted so he doesn’t push you for conversation, and you’re strangely grateful. You know he’s chatty sometimes in the chair, an extrovert through and through and always keeping Eunji company or talking with the member beside him, but right now he keeps still and gives you respite on a hard day.

You’re patting foundation into his skin with a large paddle brush when Iseul interrupts your thoughts, “Do you have that eggplant liner?”

“Check my table,” You offer, but with how sluggish your brain is feeling there’s no way you remember a single thing on your station without looking.

“Mm,” She pivots around and pokes through the products and tools behind you, and you glance over as San opens his eyes to watch Iseul rifle through things.

“Damn,” She mutters, “how much time do we have?”

“Um,” You glance down at your watch, “twenty?”

“Perfect,” She scoots behind you and disappears into the hall, no doubt to find your traveling makeup case and the liner.

You sigh, chewing the inside of your lip at the idea that you only have twenty more minutes, but you really don’t want to rush and have his makeup melt off on-stage.

“You’re fine,” San assures, his body angled towards you and Yunho now while he waits, “don’t worry about the clock,”

Yunho hums his agreement from below you, “Plenty of time,”

You refocus on Yunho’s skin and notice a long black and white hair from the paddle brush affixed to his cheek, mixed in with the foundation. You take the brush again, wiping off any excess foundation and checking to see if more fibers are loose, and then you work the brush against his cheek in an attempt to free the loose hair but it isn’t coming off easily. Every attempt you make just slides the hair into a different spot on his cheek and covers it with more foundation.

“Um,” You usually don’t like to do this, but you might have to, “can I just…”

His eyes open but his expression stays smooth, “Can you?”

“Sorry,” You shake your head, “do you mind if I touch you?”

“You already are,” He smiles, a small, amused crease between his brows you’ll have to pat out momentarily.

You tuck your brush away and gesture with your hand, “You just have a hair,”

“Oh,” He laughs, “of course, yeah,”

You’re just supposed to touch his cheek, brush away the hair with the pad of your finger and then get back to work, that’s all it is, so you’re completely unprepared for the feeling that rockets through your chest when your skin finally touches his.

Yunho gasps softly as your fingers brush over his cheek, his eyes blowing wide and his expression blanking, and it’s the only indication you have that he feels something too. A tightness wrenches in your chest, like someone pressed something hot and hard directly into your breastbone and your stomach does a somersault. Your ears are ringing, and you’re pretty sure your heart is about to beat out of your chest now that it’s started up again.

The tattoo on your chest feels warm beneath your blouse.

“You,” Yunho manages, his voice shaky and you know for sure he felt it too.

You rock back a step, “I don’t understand,”

“Shit,” Someone else says, and then you realize that it’s San and you’re not alone with the only other person in the entire world, you’re in the middle of work in front of at least one other person and it’s only your existence that just got tilted on its axis. Yours and maybe Yunho’s.

“Oh,” You glance to the side, taking in San’s wide eyed expression, “oh my God,”

“I’m not insane, am I?” Yunho smiles, his focus entirely on you, and you think you might just pass out, “You felt that?”

There’s a noise in the hall and San scrambles up to his feet, “Iseul,” he says heading for the door, “do you need help looking?”

He’s covering for you both, but thoughts are slow to form and all you can manage is blinking at the man in your chair.

“You did, right?” He asks again, eyes soft and hopeful, and then his fingers brush over the center of his chest. Squarely over his breastbone.

He’s yours.

You want to reach out and yank up his shirt, check the tattoo over his heart to see if it’s the same looping knot shape as yours, but you don’t need to see it to know for sure. It’s him.

San says something about forgetting the liner altogether, a little louder so you both know the room is going to get crowded again, and you shake your head to jolt yourself out of your paralyzed position.

“You didn’t?” His hand falls.

“I did,” You rush to correct, “I’m, I don’t know,”

He nods, wetting his lips and shifting in his chair. He moves to reach for you, but reason and sense click back into place immediately and you realize that no matter what your tattoo feels like and no matter what this means, you’re at work and about to have a very private moment in a very public place if you’re not careful.

You shake your head with a glance at his hand and jerk your head towards the door, “Later,”

“Right,” He leans back from you, “of course, right,”

Footsteps to your right draw your attention and Iseul is huffing, checking her own watch, “We’ll do brown,”

“That’ll be fine,” San assures her, but his eyes are glued on the pair of you.

Iseul moves to step around you again and realizes you’re just standing there, “What’s with you?”

“Sorry,” You manage, blinking hard and refocusing, “I just got dizzy,”

It’s not entirely a lie, given that you felt the entire earth shift under your feet thirty seconds ago and your life is completely changed. Dizzy is the least of how you’re feeling.

Yunho’s expression shifts immediately, concern across his face, and he curls his fingers into his palms to keep himself from reaching out again, from being too familiar.

“Oh,” Her eyebrows raise high, “do you need me to finish Yunho?”

“N-no,” You take a breath, “just give me one second,”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Yunho asks, and in the back of your brain you wonder if his voice has always sounded this good.

“Here,” San cuts in smoothly, cracking the seal on a fresh water bottle and passing it over to you, “do you need to sit a minute?”

San’s hand rests on your upper back between your shoulders as you take a long sip of water, the cold shocking your brain back to reality in exactly the way you need.

“Thank you,” You tell him honestly, “I think I’m okay, just a headrush,”

San nods, and when you refocus your eyes on Yunho, you almost laugh. His gaze is squarely on San’s hand where it sits on your back, and you watch the fast, silent exchange between the two men when San drops his hand and Yunho realizes his own reaction. He blushes, ears running red and he dips his head to avoid both your eyes.

“Iseul,” San steps around you both and distracts your friend, “ready to wrap?”

“Yeah,” She agrees, “let’s finish up. You’re sure you’re okay, y/n?”

“Mhm,” You hardly trust your own voice, but you nod anyway, “I’m good now.”

Yunho tilts his face back up as you step close, and the tension between you is so palpable and so familiar that you can hardly breathe. Your tattoo feels warm and heavy and something tells you that his does too, you can see it in the tenderness of his brown eyes.

“Dizzy?” He asks quietly, keeping his words just for you.

You shake your head, “No,”

“That’s good,” He murmurs, but he lets whatever words he wants to say rest on his tongue.

Your tattoo throbs and you don’t dare touch his bare skin again.

His makeup takes fifteen more minutes and his eyes don’t stray from your face the entire time. You barely finish on time, and wardrobe is standing by to get them into their first outfits of the night, so when you put the final touches on he’s already being pulled out of the chair before you have a chance to say anything.

You want to corner him and ask him exactly when he’ll have time to talk later, but despite working together for the last few years, you and Yunho aren’t that close. You’re friendly, but you’re not familiar enough to casually ask what he’s doing later and not have it seem strange. While friendships between staff members and idols are not discouraged, even between the opposite sex, being overly familiar or suggestive would certainly leave a question in everyone’s minds, and you don’t want to draw attention to yourself that quickly.

This is between you and Yunho, no one else. You don’t want an audience for this.

So he goes, pulled away by wardrobe and his other members, fitted quickly into his Soundcheck outfit. He has his game face on, so do all the members, and you watch him disappear down the hall without a second glance back at you.

You collapse into the couch and press your eyes closed, focusing on the singular feeling of heat and soreness from your chest.

A soulmate.

The tattoo on your chest was one you barely looked at anymore, too focused on living your life to sit in the mirror and wonder about the person who would be your other half, the person that would slot into the gaps in your spirit with a simple brush of skin on skin. But now, it aches. It pulses to remind you that it’s real and that you’ve found him.

Everything in your life is about to change. Has already changed.

On the couch you don’t sleep as much as you disassociate, still stunned, your buzzing brain filtering out everything Iseul says as she cleans up around you and preps both of your brush belts for touch ups. There’s such a small amount of time between Soundcheck and the concert that you barely get to process, you just exist, playing the moment you touched him over again and again in your mind. Despite how utterly changed you feel, the world is just continuing on around you like a regular day.

Once again, you and Yunho miss each other for every brief moment between Soundcheck and stage.

The shift happens in the wings, in the underbelly of the stage where you and the other staff members for hair, makeup, and wardrobe wait for any last minute quick fixes. The eight of them are almost ready, pumping themselves up between rows of technical equipment and stage scaffolding.

There’s so much commotion around you and yet your eyes are drawn to him like a magnet, the feelings you once had for him coming back to you full force in a blurry torrent.

He shifts, stretches, swallows hard, and then looks up directly into your eyes. There’s a question in them that you can’t read, but you manage to smile.

His shoulders relax just a little.

You raise your fist, giving him the gesture for ‘fighting’ and he returns it with a wide grin.

“Alright,” Hongjoong’s voice cuts through, the final step of their pre-show ritual as the concert hall starts to roar, “huddle up.”

The eight of them circle up with each other, one leg in and one out.

“We’ve practiced hard,” Hongjoong starts, patting his members on the back, “let that practice pay off, and have fun out there,”

“Okay!” San hypes them up, getting the tension high.

“Let’s give it our all,” Hongjoong continues, a wide smile on his face, “fighting!”

They echo it back, and a tense feeling starts to roll in your gut.

“Alright, one,” Hongjoong starts the count and you feel the tension in your own body rising, enough to make you take a soft step back from the group, “two,”

On three they chorus it, moving their feet in a synchronized step, “Eight makes one team! Fighting!”

They break apart, clapping each other on the back, and your eyes meet Yunho’s for one more fast second before he’s jogging after the rest of the members and finding his mark on the stage risers.

You feel the sensation of his eyes on you even after he’s gone. You have the length of four songs and their opening ments before members start swapping out on stage for makeup touch-ups and technical adjustments. The sound of the audience is intense, the start of the first song keying up, and you stumble back from your post to get a breath of air away from it all.

There’s a bathroom along the hallway two doors down from the green room that’s meant for staff and you blissfully find it empty. With shaking hands you flip the lock and sink down into a crouch, your back braced against the wall as you breathe through the sudden wave of feelings filling your chest.

Adrenaline, that’s what the bitter taste on your tongue is.

Your heart is thumping, double time like you’re running a marathon, and then you realize it. You can feel him, even now with the bond between you unfulfilled you can feel his emotions coming to you like a wave. Adrenaline, anxiety, euphoria, exhaustion, it all roils through you and you brace your hands on the wall to get your composure back.

They say the first time you feel your soulmate link it takes you by surprise, but this is an intensity you couldn’t have imagined. It’s all encompassing and honestly terrifying, and you’re struggling to understand which parts of you are you and which are him. You can’t conceive of how an accepted bond would make this feeling stronger when it already feels like your emotions and his are knit together so tightly.

Anxiety strikes down the link and you realize it’s not stage fright, it’s for you. He can feel your panic and your fear just like you can feel every ounce of his performance and if you don’t get yourself in check you’re going to be distracting him even more than you already are.

You yank yourself up off the floor and collapse against the sink, turning on the cold water tap and taking slow and steadying breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Counting slowly, relaxing your body with every pulse of oxygen through your system. You hope he can feel it, but you have no idea how this all really works. You’ll have to call your sister when this is all said and done, find out what she felt when she met her wife, but right now in this bathroom in Berlin you have to do this by yourself.

You hear the pulse of another song thrumming through the stadium as they keep performing, and you feel the thundering beat of his heart in your chest, but you breathe into it this time and try to keep yourself calm for his sake. You splash cold water on your face, keep breathing low and slow, and eventually you pull yourself back up to standing tall to look at yourself in the mirror.

You look the same as you did a few hours ago, before him, but the warmth in your chest is still present and you wonder if that will ever go away or if that’s just a permanent part of the link.

With shaky hands you unbutton your blouse and pull your bralette down in the center to reveal what you already know is there. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

The tattoo nestled at the base of your sternum is the only one you were born with. Every other line of ink on your body was put there with intention, but this one you’ve had for as long as you can remember. The maedeup knot is small, but intricate, and until this moment it had always been colorless. Loops of black and gray twining together to make a rounded diamond, unbroken with no beginning or end to the threads.

Now the ink has changed, a deep red against your skin that makes the knotted josephin soulmark look even more traditional, but the skin is slightly inflamed, tender to the touch as you brush your fingertips along it. It feels like a fresh mark, not something you’ve had since birth, but considering how it’s changed, maybe it is new. A soulmark shifting color is common, you know that, but it still stands out so starkly against your skin and your other black tattoos. You can’t look away from it.

A pounding on the bathroom door makes you jump and you fix your shirt, covering the mark back up and buttoning it away. You wonder if Yunho’s mark is the exact same like other couples you know and if it too turned red, if it’s warm to the touch, if he felt you brush against your mark through the link.

“y/n?” A voice comes through the door and you shut off the tap.

“Coming!” You wipe the excess water on your hands onto your jeans and take one last, fast look to make sure your mark isn’t visible, before opening the bathroom door.

Wonshik, one of their many managers, is waiting for you on the other side. His eyes narrow when he sees you, “Are you ill?”

“No,” You assure him.

“You’re sure?” He presses, “We can’t afford to lose any more staff or risk getting the members sick if you are,”

“I know, Wonshik,” You nod, “I promise I’m just tired, jet-lagged. I was putting cold water on my face, that’s all. I’m not sick,”

He exhales in relief, his expression softening, “Thank God,” he says, “I can only take so many surprises.”

A little sickness is nothing compared to a staff member and an idol under a dating ban being soulmarked, but you hold your tongue.

“They’re about to come off,” He says, “Iseul was looking for you, she seems like she might start climbing the walls if you don’t get back to help her,”

“No, of course,” You start back towards the side stage entrance, “I lost track of time, but it won’t happen again,”

“Make sure you sleep tonight,” He adds, following you closely, “no sleep means no immune system, and no immune system means sick.”

“Don’t worry,” You promise, winding your way through the dark backstage, “you won’t lose me,”

“I better not,” He sighs, and then Iseul comes into sight.

“There you are!” She hisses low under her breath, “I was about to have a panic attack,”

“I’m sorry, I’m here, I’m good,” In the commotion, your brain starts to ease into normalcy. You’re used to this pace, the speed of lightning fast makeup touch-ups and assisting wardrobe when things start to go awry with their quick changes. The audience feels none of this, they just see smooth change-outs on stage and cool idols in new clothes, but backstage is a wild flurry and it always puts you on an entirely different plane of focus.

“Here we go,” A stage director starts, gathering everyone’s attention, “four minutes… starting…”

The stage goes dark and in the venue a video starts to play to the crowd to fill the space between costume changes. You prep your hands, making sure your kit is ready to go and you see the wardrobe specialists out of the corner of your eye readying themselves to help facilitate the quick change.

Suddenly they’re here, and the stage director interrupts once more, “Now, four minutes people, let’s go.”

“Mingi,” He gets to you first and he crouches down to drop his face to your height, “stay still one second,”

He says nothing, but he nods as you pat powder across his forehead and the bridge of his nose, checking him over for any other defects. He looks good and you nod, “Go, go,”

Mingi peels off to the left of you and you hear the sound of fabric swishing as he and Wooyoung rip off the top layer of their outfits behind the privacy screens and trade garments with the wardrobe team. It’s a fast shuffle, but you stay focused on who’s in front of you.

“Seonghwa,” You wave to him, pulling blotting tissues out of the pack on your belt, “here,”

He knows this drill well, you’re used to working with him and you have a clean routine down. He blots the sweat off his brow himself and starts to unbutton his jacket while you shift focus to Yunho.

For a split second you almost forget what happened earlier in the buzz of backstage, but the minute your eyes hold on his awareness floods you.

“Hey,” You say, but there’s a time clock shout behind you and you beckon him down, “come here, let me fix things,”

He drops down to your height just like Mingi did and stays steady while you work, but his eyes flick up, “You’re okay?”

“I’m good,” You nod, “don’t worry,”

His expression clears a little and you guess you have your answer about the feeling of the link going both ways.

Hongjoong clears his throat behind you both, “We’re short on time,”

“Am I good?” Yunho checks.

Your eyes flick over him fast, “Yep,”

He’s out of your eyeline a split second later, and you’re grateful for the distraction of both Hongjoong and Seonghwa, otherwise you’re sure you’d dwell a little bit too long on the fact that Yunho’s half naked next to you, privacy screen or no.

“One minute,” The stage director announces, “everyone’s doing great,”

The boys are almost done, flying through the last of their zips and getting their hair smoothed down by that team as they finish. You put the last pat of powder on Seonghwa’s nose and give him a nod before he’s gone too, dropping his jacket as he goes and giving you all a quick flash of his bare back.

You turn back towards the group as they prepare and your eyes zero in on Yunho again. His expression is serious, it’s his game face before he gets back out on stage, and you watch as he corrects the placement of his in-ears and ensures that his mic pack is secured. He runs through his pre-stage ritual and you can’t help but be a captive audience.

“Good work,” The stage director says as Seonghwa rejoins the eight, fully dressed and ready for stage, “fifteen seconds for act two,”

The crowd heats up again as the video starts to fade, and the members do their final checks. Yunho doesn’t look back at you once, his eyes forward and focused as he and the other members find their places on the rising platform that will take them back out to the main stage.

You can see him a little though, in the low light in his white trousers and blue satin shirt. He lifts his hand, adjusting his microphone once again, and then as he drops it back to his side he lets his fingers skim over the familiar hollow of his chest.

Your mark warms, you feel it as if it were your chest he brushed his fingers over, and your breath stops.

The platform rises, the crowd roars, and your heart starts beating to a new rhythm.

He really is yours.

It turns out that later means much later.

You manage to get out of dinner with some of the other staff members, but that just leaves you anxious and alone in a hotel room trying and failing to eat room service. Iseul would be back soon to take up her place in the other bed, and you’re starting to realize that you don’t have Yunho’s number.

Now that emotions are a little smoother, you can’t feel him. Or maybe you can, but it’s so faint that you’re not sure. All you know is that he’s definitely in the hotel, but that’s partially the solid feeling of your link with him and partially the YouTube live being broadcast from Seonghwa’s room where all of the members are.

You put the live on and watch, feeling strangely disconnected from the men on screen. You’ve known them for years, but suddenly with this new truth everything feels foreign and confusing.

You should call your sister, but it’s only six in the morning in Korea and even though this is an emergency of life altering and epic proportions, you can’t bring yourself to wake her on a Saturday.

You try your best to eat the pasta you ordered and watch as the live eventually ends. Your phone dings and for a split second you think it will be him, but it’s just Iseul telling you she’s heading back to the hotel.

A soft knock at the door makes your stomach lurch.

You’re frozen.

There’s another knock, a little firmer this time but then you feel the warm touch against your mark and you’re on your feet, your hand on the door handle before you can think.

He looks tired, that’s your first thought. His face is bare again, and his eyes are rimmed in a little bit of red like he just removed the day’s stage makeup. Despite all that, he smiles when he sees you and sighs, leaning against the door frame, “You’re awake,” he says.

“I waited,” You manage.

He grimaces, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” his eyes flick behind you into the room and he swallows, “are you alone?”

“Yes,” You nod, “but not for long, Iseul’s on her way,”

He nods, “Come to my room?”

“Are you sure?” Your eyes widen.

“We need to talk,” He nods, “can you get away for a little while?”

Iseul will probably expect you to be asleep, but you can’t let this go until morning. If you’re ever going to sleep you need to talk to him now.

“I’ll think of something,” You tell him, “what room?”

“2606,” He answers, reaching into his pockets and producing an envelope from the front desk, “take this,”

He passes you one of his room keys and you nod, “I’ll be up in five minutes, but you should go,”

“Okay,” He breathes and neither one of you makes a single move to step away from the door until a sound down the hallway pushes you into it.

“2606,” You repeat and he nods, swiftly moving down the hall before anyone can see him standing at your door.

You have no idea what you’re going to tell Iseul that would make sense, but you don’t care. You stack up your room service for collection, kick on a pair of slippers, and give yourself the fastest look in the mirror ever on your way out the door. You want to be gone before she gets back, the idea of facing her and lying ten times more difficult than an empty text.

No problem - I can’t sleep, I’m just going to walk a bit. Don’t wait up.

You don’t stick around to see if she’ll believe it.

You try to seem casual when walking to Yunho’s room, like it's yours. You don’t want anyone to give you a second glance and wonder where you’re going, so you keep your head up, smile at anyone you pass, and when his door comes into view you scan the card like it’s any other day.

When the heavy door shuts behind you, you sigh.

“God, finally,” His voice startles you, and you look up to see him pacing, “I’ve been going insane all day,”

Your shoulders drop, you aren’t alone, “Me too,”

He runs a hand through his black hair and finally stops pacing, but doesn’t come any closer, “So, this is real?”

“It feels pretty real,”

“How did we never feel it?” He manages, “I’ve known you for years,”

“We’ve never touched until today,” You tell him, and that has to be the reason, it’s the only thing that makes sense. You’ve been turning it over in your mind all night, and with the exception of bumping into him last week in the hall, it’s all been polite bows and waves.

“How is that even possible,” He breathes, “team dinners? Holiday parties? Work?”

“Skin to skin,” You murmur, “I think that’s what it was,”

“I had no idea,” He swallows, gesturing in the negative space between your bodies, “I always liked you, but I thought it was just, you know, a crush,”

“You what?” Your eyebrows raise.

“Well,” He backtracks, “not like that, it’s not like I’ve been holding a candle.”

Your face stays neutral, but he grimaces at his own words.

“I’m fucking this up,” He takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry, I’m really nervous.”

Your stomach warms, “Yunho, it’s okay, honestly,”

“I just meant I’ve always liked you, I thought about asking you out when our contracts loosened up if you were still single.” He clarifies and then you watch his face blanch, “You are single, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” You nod, “we don’t have to worry about that,”

He nods and you see him searching for the next thing to say, the right thing.

“Your mark,” You cut in, taking a few steps further into the room, “did it change?”

“Completely,” He nods, “did yours?”

“Yeah,” You wonder the right way to ask him if you can see.

“Does it feel,” He starts.

“Warm?”

“Yes,” He nods, “and tender?”

“Like a fresh tattoo,” You take another step in.

“I’ve never gotten a tattoo,” He confesses, “but I’ll take your word for it,”

“Can I,” The words are stuck on your tongue, “maybe this is weird, but I mean, I guess we’re soulmates,”

“You want to see it?” He surmises.

“Only if you’re comfortable,”

His lips quirk, “I’m comfortable,”

Heat twists in your gut and you wonder if he can feel that too. If he does he doesn’t say it, but you watch as he pulls the black t-shirt off over his head.

You’ve never seen his chest. Any inch of his skin except for his neck and arms really, and you guess that was part of keeping his soulmark covered. Idols always do, even when they’re in the most inconvenient locations, there’s always makeup or flesh colored tape or editing to take care of it. The idea that someone could replicate it and try to fake a connection is far too real for someone famous.

He drops his shirt onto the bed and pink tinges his cheeks as he gestures towards it, “Well,”

Your mouth drops, it’s the exact same, down to the size and the placement and every little loop and you stumble forwards to get a better look, “Yunho,”

“Yeah?”

“Has yours always been red?” You reach out, your fingertips hovering just over it.

He shakes his head, “Not before today,”

“Mine’s the same,” You tell him, your eyes glued to his sternum, “just the same,”

You know every centimeter of this tattoo. You’ve studied it a thousand times in the mirror, tracing over every curve with your eyes, trying to find the place where the cord starts and ends. He sucks in a sharp breath as your fingers brush gently along his mark, and you feel the ghost of the sensation against your own.

“I can’t believe we never knew,” You murmur, sliding your finger along each rounded edge.

“You feel that?” He asks, “Right?”

You’re nodding and moving to tug off your sweater before you can even think it through. He starts to shake his head, to say that you don’t have to, but you’re already tossing the sweater next to his discarded shirt and tugging down the front band of your bralette so he can see the whole mark.

His eyes flick over you fast, but with the matching mark in front of him he doesn’t focus on anything else, “It’s exactly the same,”

“I know,” You reach for his hand, but the minute more of your skin connects with his you feel your chest throb and you drop it like it burns you.

He winces, touching his chest again, “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“In the beginning,” You nod, “I think?”

“Does it always feel like that?”

“I’m not sure,” You admit, “I was going to call my sister and ask, but it’s too early at home,”

He smiles, “Your sister found her soulmate?”

“In highschool,” You smile back, “they’ve been bonded together since they were eighteen,”

“Older or younger?” He asks, and you realize just how little you know about each other despite how long you’ve worked alongside him.

“Younger,” You say.

“I have a little brother,” He replies, “but he’s still in school,”

You nod, painfully aware that this is such a strange conversation to have with your shirts off just standing in the middle of a hotel room, but somehow it’s easier than any date you’ve ever had.

Your eyes flick from his eyes to his mark and he reaches out a hand again, “Can I?”

Your heart quickens and you nod.

His fingertips graze over the edge of your mark, mimicking your touch from before, sliding along the edges of the tattoo. His eyes widen and you know he’s feeling the sensation in his own mark, a mirror image of each other.

“This doesn’t hurt,” He observes, letting his fingers linger.

“I think we have to get used to each other,” You remember that fact from somewhere, “the link has been dormant for a long time, I think it takes a minute to get used to having it,”

“Makes sense,” He murmurs, his eyes still squarely on your mark, “I’ll be honest though, I still really want to touch you,”

“Yeah?” Your voice is thready.

His fingers fall away and he nods, “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” You agree, painfully quickly.

He swallows tightly and takes the smallest step forwards, before offering out his hand, palm up and waiting for you.

Your eyes flick from his face down to his outstretched hand, and you reach for him slowly. You let your fingertips skate over the skin of his palm, down each digit, ghost the pads of your fingertips together. It’s warm, sharp and dizzying even just to brush against each other.

You wonder what more will feel like.

“Can I try something?” He murmurs, his voice nearly a whisper even though you’re all alone.

You nod.

He wets his lips unconsciously and moves a little closer, your bodies now only inches apart. Anxiety, anticipation, thrill, it all runs through your gut like a whirling wind and you shiver at the torrent of his emotions, a grin breaking out over your face.

His smile mirrors yours, “Your heart’s beating a mile a minute,”

“You can feel that?”

“Yeah,” He breathes, grin widening, “this is crazy,”

You laugh, a little nervous, a little elated, and he finally reaches out his hands.

He takes a steadying breath, and then his fingertips brush along your jaw.

You suck in a sharp gasp at the sensation, electric and hot, the feeling rocketing through your entire body. You tilt your face up to his as he continues his gentle touches, your eyes watching him as he studies you. His plush lips are parted, brown eyes wide with awe as he grows a little bolder to brush over your cheeks, down your throat, and back up to your jawline.

“Feel alright?” He murmurs.

You nod into his touch and he starts to lift off but you reach for him, “Don’t stop,”

Your hands land safely on his hips, still covered by his sweatpants and you watch him swallow again at the sudden contact, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Warmth fills the bond, no doubt the first threads of his arousal, and you wonder if he can feel your own. If he can sense how much he’s affecting you with just his fingertips on your face.

His hands settle back on your skin, this time smoothing across you with his palms, one hand cupping your cheek and the other sliding over your shoulder and down your bare back.

You can barely breathe, the room so silent and around you, like the only thing in the universe that exists is the two of you orbiting each other, standing at the precipice of something so catastrophic and wonderful.

Your hands adjust, resting on his taut abdomen as you move a little closer together, and his eyes flutter shut as he breathes through the sensation of your hands on him properly for the first time.

“You’re so warm,” You murmur, your hands softly tracing his abdominal muscles, instinct guiding you to touch more of him, seek out every inch of him as you unconsciously make a map of his body in your mind.

He hums pleasantly, eyes reopening, “So are you,”

He feels so right, so essential under your touch.

Yunho wets his lips softly with his tongue, and a nervous thrill passes through your belly. His eyes flick over you, the pad of his thumb sweeping a line over your lips. You suppress a needy sound, still trying to keep your head amidst the thrumming emotions and steady thumps of your heart.

He doesn’t stop, just stroking your skin slowly, fingers on your back pressing just a little as he sighs.

“Yunho,” You shiver.

“Cold?” He gravitates a little closer.

“N-no,” Your body is all but pressed flush against him now, and you have to lean your face up even more just to see him as he stands tall over you.

“I…” He starts to say something but lets the words die off, like he’s thinking something through, but then he sighs, “forget it,”

His lips are on yours.

Yunho lifts you, wrapping his arms around your back and tugging you up into his embrace. You gasp against his mouth, finding his shoulders to hold onto as one of his arms bands around your lower back.

The kiss is shattering, the world tilting once again, a new frequency humming between your two bodies. It’s hot, your skin buzzing from the contact, but the way you move together is fluid and easy. Your legs part naturally, settling around his hips and his free hand finds your plush thigh as he tugs you into place, slotting your bodies together like they were always meant to be.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbles against your lips when he draws in a quick breath, but he doesn’t stop kissing you. His nose nuzzles against yours, and his lips part at the same moment yours do, tongues meeting in the space between your mouths to flick against each other.

“Don’t,” You push closer to him, fingers knotting into the back of his hair as you kiss him back.

He hums, the hand on your thigh sliding up to cup your ass and you shiver as his wide hand stretches across your backside, squeezing your pillowy flesh.

A tiny whimper does leave you then, liquid heat spreading through your body, the combined sensation of both your arousals giving you a headrush.

“So beautiful,” He sighs between kisses, “you’re so beautiful,”

“Yunho,” Your voice is thready, his name a stretched out sound.

He holds you close, nearly stumbling as he moves. You blink your eyes open just as he spins you both, pushing you up against the hotel wall and pinning you in place with the weight of his body. You should slow things down, but nothing in your life has ever felt this good and you find yourself diving back to meet his kiss again.

His arm slides out from behind your back as he pushes closer, your body fully supported by the flat of the wall behind you and his hips under yours and one hand firmly anchored on your ass. With his arm free he cups your cheek, a pleased sound on his lips as he dips you back into the wall and deepens the kiss.

Heat blooms through you, your kisses getting needier, artless and desperate just to get a little closer together. The kind of kissing that sounds as messy as it is, tiny pants and moans muffled between you, skin on skin, tongue on tongue.

“God,” He shudders, his lips breaking away, but his eyes only flick over you for a second before he dives back in. This time his lips travel, hot kisses across your jaw and back to the hollow of your ear, down your throat as he holds you a little higher on the wall for the right access.

You grip his shoulders with one hand and lock your fingers in his mess of black hair with the other, your head falling back against the wall. He pants against your throat, a soft groan as he kisses, and your stomach tightens pleasantly.

“Y-Yunho,” You gasp, arousal rolling through you, and unconsciously you rock your hips, desperately seeking some kind of friction.

He hums low in his throat, kissing back up your neck fast to get to your lips again and his hand slides off your cheek as he crowds you tighter, bracing himself against the wall above your head. His abdomen presses against your core, and even through layers of fabric you feel his heat. Hungrily, you roll your hips again and catch a little pressure, moaning in earnest against his mouth.

Yunho makes a tight sound and then he breaks the kiss, his forehead pressing hard against yours as he takes in slow breaths, his body all but trembling with need as he holds you.

“We need to slow down,” He manages.

You can’t find words, not yet, but you nod against him.

“You deserve better,” He says, “dates, presents,”

You laugh softly, your hand in his hair softening from a grip to a gentle hold, carding through the long locks at the base of his neck, “I don’t need all that,”

He smiles wide, brushing off your words, “Still,” He sighs, still recovering from the heated make out, “I think I have more self control than fulfilling our bond by fucking you into the wall,”

Reality bleeds back in at that. Soulmarks were just that, indicator marks. A way to find your person amidst a sea of thousands, if not millions. All the shared sensation and emotion a precursor to something more permanent and binding, something only sealed together by sex.

You lift your head up, and he leans back to mirror you.

“I lost my head there,” You admit, warm blush in your cheeks, “I didn’t know it would feel like this,”

He smiles, and you take in his expression. His hair is a mess, mussed and disheveled and his face is pink from his nose down to the dark, well-kissed curve of his lips. His bare chest is flushed bright pink and his eyes are bright and warm. You fight the urge to kiss him again.

“Me either,” He shakes his head, “it’s incredible,”

“Overwhelming,” You nod, exhaling softly.

He makes a soft sound to agree and then starts to push back from the wall gingerly, letting you slowly unwrap your legs from his waist and ease down to the floor.

He lets you go when you’re steady on your feet and clears his throat, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants and running a hand through his tangled locks. He’s hard, that much is obvious from the distinct outline of his cock through the gray fabric, but you do your best to look away and not think about how thick and heavy it looked just from kissing you.

“Jesus,” He adjusts his sweats again, “sorry,”

“It’s fine,” You cup your own cheeks with cool fingers, “I promise you’re not the only one,”

His eyes hold yours for a lengthy beat and then he swallows, taking a wide step back and nodding, “Right,” he shakes his head, “we’re supposed to be slowing down.”

“Slow,” You lean against the wall behind you, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to steady your thumping heart.

“I’m going over here,” He grins and walks to the far wall by the door to the bathroom, leaning back and crossing his own arms, “we really should talk,”

A pulse of anxiety flickers through you, and you realize just how quickly you went from his hotel room door to nearly falling into bed. He’s handsome, a kind man, your once upon a time crush, and certainly fated to be a good match for you, but that doesn’t mean you should throw out good sense and rush things. No matter how much your impulses were screaming at you to do just that.

You try to ignore the fact that there’s a bed between you, and you nod, “You’re right,” you finally say, “we barely know each other,”

Yunho’s smile fades just a bit, “I wouldn’t say that,”

“We’re coworkers,” The words tumble out, “I know what we’re both feeling, but,”

His brow furrows as he thinks through your words and he shakes his head, “y/n,” he cuts you off, “do you believe in soulmates?”

“Yes, of course,” Even if you hadn’t before, the way you’re feeling now would be enough to dispel any skeptic.

He takes in a quick breath, the sound sharp as he draws it through his teeth and he cocks his head slightly to the side, “You’re scared,” he massages the top of his sternum with his fingers, and you recognize your own chest is tight with anxiety, “I can feel it, talk to me.”

The instant vulnerability of the bond is startling, and you can feel your own expression crumble. It’s suddenly a bit like being an ant caught under a magnifying glass, too much sharp attention all at once and you swallow tightly, eyes flicking away from his tender gaze.

“y/n,” He murmurs, “I’m not pushing for more, not tonight,”

“Yeah,” Your voice is soft, too quiet for your own liking. Something about the way he sees you so clearly and so quickly makes you feel exposed, nervous and strangely childlike.

“Hey,” He breaks through your little thought spiral, “look at me,”

You straighten up again, finding his eyes.

“I’m just happy I found you,” He tells you, and you feel the truth of it in your gut, “we can figure everything else out together, and at our own pace, okay?”

Relief spreads through you, the knot in your chest loosening, “Promise?”

“Promise,” He nods, raising one hand with his pinky extended, “I just want us to try,”

You nod, extending your own pinky to seal it, “Me too.”

He smiles at that, “Barely know each other,” he scolds softly, “I’m offended.”

“Oh yeah?” Tension bleeds out of your shoulders.

“Mhm,” His expression is full of cheek, “I’m the one with a crush, remember? I notice things,”

Your stomach flips pleasantly and your arms relax from their tight position crossed over your chest, “What things?”

“Let’s see,” He starts, and for a brief moment you think maybe he’s bluffing, but the moment he starts you melt and he holds your gaze as he warmly recites all the little things he’s noticed about you over the years.

“You only wear silver jewelry,” he notes first, nodding towards you.

Your tight hands uncurl.

“You have a ridiculous sweet tooth,” The more he talks the more he relaxes against the far wall, “and you start getting flushed after the second shot of soju, you really are a lightweight,”

“You always pick a Big Bang song for karaoke, and you’re late to work every Monday,” He laughs a little at that and keeps going, “you don’t wear a lot of color but when you do it’s red. We’re both from Gwangju but you moved to Seoul when you were five,”

Your heart starts to beat a little faster, warmth filling you again and you don’t know if it’s your affection or his anymore, but it hardly matters.

“Um,” He takes a deep breath and glances away for a moment and then catches more threads from his memory, “you’re a Sagittarius, you’re a runner, and the last book I saw you reading was Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. I bought it, but I haven’t had a chance to read it just yet,”

“Yunho,” You find yourself smiling, a hand over your surprised lips.

“I’m just saying,” He shrugs a little, “we aren’t strangers. I know this is scary and fast and going to change the rest of our lives,”

Elation, pure joy, spills over unfettered from his side of your new emotional tether.

“But I like you,” He confesses, “I have for a while, and this,” he brushes his fingers along his soulmark, “just changes the timeline.”

He’s yours.

You push off the wall, crossing the room and all but leap back into his embrace, your arms looping around his shoulders again as you push up on tiptoe to kiss his lips.

“This is real,” You murmur.

“Yes,” He cups your cheeks, nodding as he pecks your lips again.

“You’re mine,”

“Yes,” He grins.

“Oh, this is crazy,” You laugh, forehead against his again.

“We’ll go slow,” He assures you again, “we’ll figure it out together,”

“Together,” You nod.

He dips low once more, this kiss more tender, and he separates you both before things can heat up again. “Hmm,” He glances across the bed and makes a small face at the time displayed on the digital clock, “did you eat?”

“I tried to,” You confess, “I was nervous,”

“You need to eat,” He snaps up his black shirt from the bed and slips it back on, and your chest warms. It’s strangely domestic, strangely commonplace like you’ve been in this position a thousand times before.

Yunho adjusts his shirt and then kisses your hair as he passes by you, padding over to the hotel microwave and searching through the assorted snacks and instant meals, “It’s too late for room service,”

“I’m okay,” You pull your own sweater back on and sit on the edge of his bed.

“y/n,” He glances back, a softly scolding tone.

“Really, you need to sleep,” You offer.

He dismisses that thought, “But I’m hungry, eat with me?”

You concede, and while he starts whipping up two servings of ramen, you wonder if this is what he’s going to be like. It makes sense, he’s always been a caretaking kind of person, but having it so tenderly directed at you feels right.

“When we get home,” He says as he pours in the spice packets, “I’ll take you somewhere nice,”

“This is nice,” You smile.

“y/n,” He sets the ramen on a side table and sits next to you, “this is cup noodle from a hotel microwave,”

“The company is nice,” You take the ramen happily though, and tuck into the warm meal.

“It is,”

“Mm, you know,” You slurp back some noodles and softly clear your throat, “you weren’t the only one with a crush,”

He freezes, letting his noodles drop back into his cup, “What?”

“I’ve always liked you,” Your own confession feels easier after his, “I put it aside since we work together, but I guess, I mean, what I’m trying to say is that we both felt it before the mark, you’re not alone in that.”

“I had no idea,”

“I’m very professional,” You tease him lightly.

He nudges you and tucks back into his noodles, “How long?”

“Hmm,” You get more comfortable, crossing your legs and scooting back a little onto the mattress, “I thought you were cute when we first met,”

“God,” He groans, “we were such kids,”

You nod, swallowing another bite, “Mhm, you had that blonde hair,”

He laughs.

“I remember thinking, ‘that one’s trouble’,” You confess.

“Me?” His eyebrows perk up, “I’m perfectly nice,”

“Trouble as in you’re my type,” You roll your eyes, “but I don’t think the crush properly came until later. You’ve always made me laugh, and when I realized how I was feeling I just did my best to keep some distance,”

He nods, face getting a little serious, “I know what you mean,”

That knowledge leaves you both a little quiet. The late hour, the adrenaline come down, all of it barrels into you at the same moment as the next anxious thought. How in the world were you both going to navigate this with a contract as tight as theirs and the public eye always watching?

“Yunho,” You murmur, the last of your noodles left to go cold as you sit with that thought, “Are we going to be able to figure this out?”

“Figure what out?” He looks genuinely confused by your question, “Us?”

“You’re an idol,” You nod towards him, “I’m staff,”

He rests a hand on your knee, “We’ll be fine,”

“Aren’t your contracts,” You trail off, letting him fill in the blanks.

“They’re strict, yes,” He nods, “year seven,”

Dating, romance, even the perception of it was more than discouraged by companies in this industry, their artists contractually obligated to be single and available and dedicated only to their fans. Five years would have been the industry standard to prevent any idol from being caught out with a partner, let alone a potential soulmarked one, but seven is excessive.

You blanch, “That’s almost two years away,”

“We will find a way,” He says, “we’re not the first people in the industry this has happened to,”

“Really?” You perk up, “Who?”

He falls short, “Well, I don’t know exactly, but it’s bound to have happened.”

“And then ruined their careers,” You groan, flopping back flat on the mattress and covering your face with a hand, “which is why we’ve never heard of them,”

Yunho laughs, earnestly laughs, and takes the half empty ramen cup out of your hand to discard, “Maybe, but for now, let’s just stay positive. Get to know eachother better,”

You nod.

“Nothing can change the fact that we found each other,” He points out, dropping down onto his side on the bed next to you, “and I’m okay with that.”

“So we just lie to everyone?” You chew at the inside of your lip, staring up at the white ceiling.

“Hey,” Yunho’s fingers tuck under your chin and draw your eyes to him, “I know you’re anxious,”

You sigh, letting his softness calm you again.

“I know,” He repeats, “I am too, but we don’t have to decide anything tonight. We’re both tired and it’s been an emotional day,”

“Okay,” You nod, “okay, yes, you’re right,”

His thumb strokes over your cheek again, and you watch him exhale and sink further into your touch, “Will you stay tonight?”

That wakes you up.

Your eyebrows raise, “Stay?”

“Just to sleep,” He assures you, “I just… I don’t want to be without you yet,”

“I need to get back before Iseul wakes up if we do that,” You note with a grimace.

“What time?” He glances back to the clock.

“Seven,” You say, “her alarm is set for seven-thirty,”

“We can do that,” He grabs his phone off the side table and sets an alarm, “we’ll get up,”

The pull between your bodies is so strong you’re fairly sure you would have stayed no matter the consequences, but you nod, “Then I’ll stay,”

He grins and pushes himself off the bed, “I’ve got clothes, if you want to get comfortable,”

“Sure,” you sit up and wait for him to find things in his still packed suitcase.

“Um,” He pulls a pair of black sweatpants from the bag, “these should work, and if you get cold,”

You smile as he grabs a gray hoodie and comes back to you.

As you start to pull off your sweater again, he turns around and leaves his back to you, “Sorry,”

“Thanks,” You chuckle, making short work of changing. You’re swimming in his clothes, but his sweatshirt smells like him and you just want to bury your face into it, “you can turn around now,”

His shoulders relax as he turns back, and you watch his lips part as he takes you in.

“What?”

“You look cute,” He clears his throat, shrugging off his reaction.

You smile and ease back onto the bed, “Oh, I get it,” you laugh, “is your guy brain on fire because I’m wearing your clothes? Is this some kind of… you won the competition, ownership thing?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, kneeling on the bed to shuffle closer, “No competition when you’re literally fated for me,”

“Right,” You let the word drag out on your tongue to tease him.

“But I like taking care of you already, and now you’re warm and comfortable,” He collapses next to you onto the mattress with a sigh, “and I know I don’t own you, but you are mine, just like I’m yours now. I won’t apologize for liking you in my clothes or in my bed, for liking when you look like my girlfriend,”

Warmth blooms in your cheeks and you duck your face into the sheets.

“Now come get under the covers,” He maneuvers the duvet, “it’s late, you were dead on your feet today,”

His voice is so warm and familiar, and you slide into the covers beside him.

In bed you keep a little distance, and despite the number of times both of you say that you should go to sleep, your conversation is almost impossible to stop. Yunho holds your hand in the middle space of the mattress between your bodies, and in the dim lighting of the hotel room you whisper thought after thought back and forth. A million things coming to mind you need to tell each other so suddenly now that you’ve found each other.

As you talk his fingers travel, restlessly stroking your skin, up and down your arm and tapping out patterns. When his palm slides back and forth over the sharp lines of the tattoos on your upper arm, and you feel the question slipping out of your lips and revealing more about yourself than you intended before you can catch it.

“Your parents,” You blurt out, “will they be happy?” He’s spoken about them so much over the past hour that you can’t help but ask him that question point blank.

“So happy,” He responds with ease, a laugh on his lips, “they always worried me being an idol meant I’d never be able to find the one and settle down, they’re going to love this story,”

You smile at the easy way he calls you ‘the one’, but the question you really asked still remains unanswered and you exhale softly, “But,” you manage, “will they be happy with me?”

Yunho stills, reaching across the bed to hook his finger under your chin and draw your eyes up to his again, “Very happy,” he says, “just like I am.”

Your muscles relax, his words a soothing balm, and you adjust your position on the pillow beneath you, “Just checking,”

“Mhm,” He studies your face, “jagi, why wouldn’t they be happy with you?”

The endearment slips off his lips with ease, and a burst of warmth spreads through you. You’ve never needed pet names and softness like this from a partner, but from him it makes your heart quicken.

The momentary elation fades though, and his question comes back into your mind. You take a deep breath, you owe it to him to tell him now, “My family won’t be happy,”

“With me?” His eyebrows raise.

“It’s me,” You shake your head, “my parents have difficult ideals, and I’ve never pleased them. It wouldn’t matter who you were, they… they’ll find a way to not be happy for me.”

His eyes soften, and his thumb strokes along your jaw, “I’m sorry,”

“It is what it is,”

“Are your parents soulmates?” He asks softly.

You shake your head, “No, they don’t really believe in soulmarks,”

You watch his eyes widen in surprise.

“Unless,” You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes, “the match is ‘fortuitous’,”

“For status?” He surmises.

“Status, money,” You shrug, “connection. But I think I could marry the next president and they’d still find a way to be disappointed in me,”

His jaw flexes tense for just a moment, before his expression smooths over again.

“Anyway,” You clear the bad thoughts away as quickly as they came, “my sister and I never went along like they wanted, like my cousins and the rest of my family, so we are the great disappointments. It’s not… it’s fine, but, I guess you should know before we, you know,”

He smiles, a bit of amusement in his expression that you can’t place, “Did you think having bad parents would scare me off?”

“It could,”

“No,” He slides a hand under your side and tugs you across the mattress to press a fast kiss to your lips, “it never could.”

“But I’m,” You start, all the reasons why a partner might care ringing in your ears.

“Beautiful?” He cuts you off, “Just my type? If it’s anything else I don’t want to hear you say it,”

Your stomach flip flops hard and you push lightly against his chest to get him to stop.

“The thing is,” He brushes your hair back from your cheek, “my parents are soulmates. I grew up in a house full of a lot of love, even when they were being strict and scolding us.”

Your smile at his warm expression.

“So I know they’ll love you,” He explains, “they know what this feels like, what it means. I have plenty of family for us both,”

Your throat constricts, tears threatening for a moment.

“Your sister, though,” He grounds you out of the bad thoughts without even thinking, “you two are close?”

“Very,”

“I’d like to meet her,” He smiles.

“You two would get along great, my sister and her wife both, actually,”

Yunho nods, listening attentively, “Do they have kids?”

“Not yet,” You groan, “but I’m dying to be an auntie,”

His thumb drags a comforting line across your cheekbone, his expression warm and affectionate, “Cute,”

You sink into the pillows, a yawn creeping up to your lips, “She’s going to lose her mind when I call her,”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” You huff a laugh, “she thought that when I started working here I should have found an inconspicuous way to bump into all of you to test possible bonds. She’s going to be riding the ‘I told you so’ train.”

“She’s funny,” He smirks.

“Very,” You sigh, unconsciously cuddling into his warmth.

“Has it been a while since you’ve seen her?” He asks softly, adjusting his arms around you so that you’re cradled against his chest with the pillows at your back.

“Mhm,” You yawn again, the warmth of his body settling the last of the adrenaline inside you, “a while,”

“Let’s find a day off after the tour,” He tucks the duvet around you.

“Yeah?” Your eyes feel heavy.

“Yeah,” He kisses your forehead.

“Yunho,” You yawn again, dipping your forehead into his chest, “God, I’m so tired again,”

“Mhm,” He yawns too, “me too, jagi,”

You hum softly, fingers slipping under the edge of his shirt just to feel a little skin, “I like that,” you murmur, “I like you,”

“I like you too,” He chuckles, “now go to sleep,”

A piece of you wants to protest, wants more time cocooned in this day with him, but something about his body feels so right. After a week of sleeping poorly, your body tight and anxious and heart fluttering for no reason at all, when he touches you, your mind goes blissfully blank.

Your muscles relax, your breath dropping low and soft in your chest.

Nuzzled against his tattoo, you drift.

You’re supposed to wake up to an alarm. Early enough that you could slip back into your hotel room and your own bed to yawn and stretch next to Iseul and make her believe you were there the whole night. That’s what was supposed to happen.

Instead, you wake to the heavy sound of a hotel door and Seonghwa’s voice, Yunho jolting awake beside you.

“Oh my god,” Seonghwa says for what sounds like the third time to your fuzzy sleep-addled brain, “oh my god?”

“Hyung,” Yunho pushes himself up, his arms unwinding from around you, “hey, don’t freak out,”

“Don’t freak out,” Seonghwa’s eyes blow wide, “are you fucking kidding me? Hongjoong is going to kill you,”

“You don’t understand,” Sleep is still heavy on him and he shakes his head to try to pull himself away.

“I understand plenty,” Seonghwa counters, “how long have you been lying to us?”

His reaction surprises you, and you ease yourself up to sit next to Yunho. You’re not sure what to say or not say, you don’t know what they’ve discussed in the past when it comes to dating and relationships, but by Seonghwa’s outburst you can guess it’s honesty at a minimum.

Yunho’s face falls, “No, it’s not that,”

“I can tell you what it looks like,” Seonghwa lowers his voice to what amounts to a stage whisper.

“Hyung,” Yunho rubs his eyes, running a hand through his mop of black hair.

“It looks like you’ve been sneaking around,” He continues, “how long have you two been fucking?”

“Hey,” Yunho’s voice sharpens, and his hand crosses your body to anchor on your opposite thigh.

Seonghwa’s eyes track it and he shakes his head, “This is so stupid,” he steps back in surprise, “you’re both being so, incredibly stupid.”

Yunho gives you a squeeze and opens his mouth to reply but Seonghwa keeps going.

“Naive is what it is,”

Irritation bubbles in your gut and you can’t stop yourself, “Seonghwa, will you shut up for one second?”

He stops in his tracks, mouth falling open, “What?”

“Can you please,” You hold his gaze, “please, just listen to Yunho for a minute before you jump to conclusions.”

He shifts, taking a step back and crossing his arms, and then he looks to Yunho.

Yunho finds your eyes quickly, silently asking, and you give him a nod.

“Okay,” Yunho runs a hand through his hair again, “I’ll just say it.”

Seonghwa waits, his expression completely neutral except for the irritated corner of his lips.

“y/n is my soulmate,” Yunho squeezes your thigh again and you slip your hand into his to twine your fingers together, “we didn’t know, but now we do.”

Seonghwa’s brows go high, shock filling his features.

“We’re not hiding,” You add, “we just… it’s just,”

“How long?” Seonghwa manages.

“Soundcheck yesterday,” Yunho says, “we haven’t known long enough to lie, hyung.”

“You’re sure?” He looks between you both, and you know what he’s thinking. How could it be possible to know each other for years and not know.

“We’re sure,” You answer confidently, calmly, “I swear,”

“It’s real,” Yunho’s thumb strokes across knuckles, “it’s very real.”

Seonghwa swallows, taking in the news and sinks back against the hotel dresser, “Well, fuck,”

“Yeah,” Yunho laughs.

“You were off timing yesterday,” Seonghwa points out, “and distracted,”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Yunho grimaces.

“No, but,” He shrugs, “I know you and you’re never off time.”

“It wasn’t easy to focus on the show yesterday,” Yunho admits.

“I’m sorry,” You nudge him with your shoulder, knowing a huge portion of that must have been the panic flooding his side of the link.

He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to be sorry for,”

When you look back up, Seonghwa is smiling and he sighs, “Oh, you’ve both got it bad.”

“Obviously,” You hide your face in your sweatshirt sleeve.

“So, what’s the plan?” Seonghwa asks, “Because you can’t act like this around anyone else,”

Your mouth feels dry.

“We don’t know,” Yunho answers, “we have to figure that out, for now I think we just try to keep things normal.”

Seonghwa nods and then leans forward, “Listen, I know you’re not asking for my advice,”

You both wait.

“But you're my brother,” Seonghwa says unequivocally, “so I’m going to give you some anyway.”

Yunho nods.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” Seonghwa points out, “and I’m sure it will be hard to act like acquaintances in front of everyone, but you have to do it, at least until you make a plan.”

“Yeah,” Yunho’s cheeks are a little pink and he squeezes your hand.

“No one fires the idol for things like this,” He reminds you both, “so for her sake, put it away for today.”

“He’s right,” You nod, “today we go back to coworkers,”

Yunho draws your clasped hands up and kisses your fingers, “Okay,”

“You’re lucky I offered to check on you,” Seonghwa sighs heavily, “if any of the managers came in,”

“Check on me?” Yunho perks up at that, “Hwa, why,”

Things come into focus for you at that moment, how bright the hotel room is with sunlight, how well rested you really feel. You twist in the bed and look at the digital clock, “Oh no,”

“You were late,” Seonghwa explains, “we figured you overslept, I offered to use the spare key to get you up.”

“Fuck,” Yunho curses.

You both slept straight through Yunho’s alarm.

“Iseul is going to fucking kill me,” You roll out of bed, your hands breaking apart as you scramble for you phone, “what the hell am I going to tell her?”

Your phone reads nine-thirty. In thirty minutes you’re supposed to be packed into a van and on the way to the venue and when you look at the collection of notifications your stomach churns.

Three calls from Iseul, and a lengthy string of text messages.

Did you already get up and get ready?

Your work bag is still here…

Not funny, girl, where are you?

Did you make it back last night?

Can you answer me??

I’m getting worried. I haven’t heard anything - You haven’t even read these?

You better not be dead in a ditch, I’ll kill you myself.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Your hands are trembling as you tap out the fastest reply - Alive, be right there.

Yunho’s a whirlwind behind you, stripping out of his sleep clothes and yanking on whatever outfit is at the top of his suitcase, “It’s fine, it’s going to be fine,”

“Sure,” You search the floor for your jeans and dart into the bathroom, “my best friend is going to murder me though,”

You change at lightning speed, swapping his sweats for your jeans and then tying up your hair into a messy bun before pushing back out into the main room.

“Everyone’s downstairs,” Seonghwa offers, “you shouldn’t run into anyone on the way back to your room.”

“Good, okay, good,” Your heart is pounding, “where’s my room key?”

“Here,” Yunho darts forwards and finds the little envelope, passing it to you, “take a breath,”

“I have to go,” You manage, “I have to think of something,”

“Don’t kiss and tell,” Seonghwa offers and he’s being funny but it’s vaguely helpful.

“Wait,” Yunho grabs your hand and tugs you back, snapping your phone out of your hand.

“Yunho, I don’t,” You start to say but he waves you off.

He types fast, adding himself as a contact in Kakao Talk, “My number,” he explains.

Seonghwa huffs a laugh.

You take the phone back and tuck it into your pocket, “I’ll message you later,”

“Good,” He dips forwards and presses one warm, tender kiss to your lips, “now get out of here,”

You kiss him back, just once and fast, a little shred of self indulgence before you have to act like he’s just another guy, and then you’re darting out of the room, shouting back a thank you at Seonghwa as you go.

You navigate the halls fast, and opt to take the stairs to get down one floor faster and more inconspicuously. You take a deep breath when you get to your hotel door, and then you dive.

“So you are alive,” Iseul’s waiting, just like you thought she might be. She’s sitting on your still made bed, her phone in her hands and a tense expression on her face, “I was just about to tell the managers you were missing,”

“I’m so sorry, seriously, I didn’t mean to worry you,” You take a few steps into the room.

Her eyes flick over you, and you realize at the moment her eyes widen that you’re still wearing Yunho’s hoodie, your sweater still discarded on his bedroom floor.

“You hooked up with someone?” Her voice spikes, “Are you kidding me?”

Thankfully the hoodie is plain, just a heather gray with no identifying attributes that scream his name, but you’re still swimming in it and it’s clear you’re rumpled from bed.

“Listen,” You hold up your hands, “I didn’t mean to not text you, I just fell asleep,”

“With some guy?” She stands.

“Yes,” You settle on some version of the truth.

“Who?” She flounders, “We’re supposed to text each other,”

And you always did, when either one of you went home with someone there was always a little preemptive safety report. A name, an address, a shared location, something so that you weren’t completely alone in the world with a strange guy.

“I’m sorry,” You say again.

She studies you, and it’s like she’s looking through you.

“Oh my god,” Her eyes widen, “we know him.”

“Iseul,” Your cheeks heat.

She points at you, “I’m right!”

“It’s not a big deal,” You skirt around her words.

“The only reason you wouldn’t text me is if you were with someone we both know,” She narrows her eyes, “so give it up.”

“I can’t,” You press, “leave it,”

“Why are you being so weird?”

“Iseul,” You sigh, avoiding her gaze, “I just woke up in a panic, and I have like fifteen minutes to get showered, can you give me the third degree later?”

“I’m not letting this go,”

“Yeah,” You pull off Yunho’s sweatshirt and head to the bathroom, “I know, but we have work.”

“Work with a coworker you slept with,” She stands in the doorway while you start the shower, and you realize her tone isn’t so much as angry anymore but probing.

“I didn’t sleep with him,” You groan, “well, I guess I did, but we didn’t have sex, okay?”

“That’s awfully cozy for a one night stand,” She crosses her arms, “unless you’re seeing someone? Are you seeing someone?”

“No,” You test the water heat and unbutton your jeans, “I swear I’ll explain another time, but can you just drop it for today? Or do you want to stand here and watch me shower?”

“Fine,” She concedes, “you will tell me?”

“I swear,” You nod, “I want to tell you, but I’m not ready yet, okay?”

Her eyes soften up at that, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You nod, “but I’m having big feelings about it and I need to work it out,”

“Oh,” In all the years you’ve known her, she’s never seen you in love or even close, and she just blinks, “got it,”

“Can I shower now?” You gesture towards the running water.

“Yeah,” She steps back, “yeah, but I’m still mad you didn’t text me.”

“Okay,”

“And I’m still going to guess who it is,” She smirks.

“Fine,”

Her smile widens and she rolls her eyes, “I bet it’s one of the BB guys, isn’t it? You always like a dancer,”

She turns the corner before she can watch you blushing harder, so nearly on the money with her guess, but you put it all out of your mind for now and focus on your day. You’re late, and it’s about to be another long one. You’ll have time for everything else later, if you can just keep your cool.

Work is bizarre to say the least. You and Yunho both do an excellent job of not looking at each other except for when he’s in your makeup chair, and you’re getting better and better at ignoring both San’s and Seonghwa’s nervous glances.

This time you start the makeup early, less time pressure with the schedule adjustments, and the night goes off without a hitch. Soundcheck to stage to VIP benefits, it’s a whirlwind and you’re grateful for the distractions everywhere you look.

You can still feel him, emotions from his side of the link ebbing and flowing throughout the day, but the sharp intensity of yesterday has dulled a bit after your night together. In quiet moments you find yourself thinking about his lips, or the way his hands held you as you tumbled into sleep, but you push it down and stay professional.

As the show ends, Iseul ropes you into team dinner, desperate to observe who you interact with and how, still on her quest to find your mystery bed partner, but the boys aren’t there and so there’s nothing for her to really see.

Later, with Iseul passed out from one too many shots of soju, you slip back into Yunho’s hoodie and cuddle into the warmth of your own bed. You need more sleep, you know that, but your brain isn’t cooperating. You toss and turn in the sheets, body feeling like a taut cord, and all you can think of is him.

You miss him.

It’s not even two days of having him in your life like this and you feel nervous and achy without him. There’s no way you’ll survive two years of this.

Over an hour passes as you sigh, changing positions again and again, and then your phone finally buzzes. You scramble to see if it’s a message from him, nearly dropping your phone in the process.

Can’t sleep? - He must be feeling your restlessness.

Not at all - You reply, chest feeling warm at the contact.

Little bubbles pop up immediately to indicate he’s typing and then another message pops on your screen - You’d think after last night we’d both be exhausted.

So you’re as awake as I am?

Just can’t relax. I liked having you here last night. - He confesses.

You roll over in the bedding onto your front and push the pillow under your chest before you keep texting - I liked it too. I’d come up except Iseul wouldn’t lay off guessing who I was with this morning.

Oh? Did she guess correctly? - You can practically see the smirk on his face.

Nope - You tease back.

Was she upset? - He asks.

At first, but I told her I would tell her soon I just needed some time - You reply.

That’s good, honest. - His message makes you smile.

How was Seonghwa? - You tap out.

Fine…. stressing and acting like a hyung, you know - He says.

You smile and type out another message - Is he keeping this to himself for now?

Yes - Yunho’s message comes in, and then another - For now, he knows we need to decide things first.

That’s good - You send back.

Things lull for a moment, and you try to think of something more to say, but Yunho swoops in with a question that makes you bite your lip to keep from laughing - Who did Iseul guess you were with? Was I even on the list?

I thought you’d be happy she didn’t guess - You reply.

Bubbles appear immediately, then another message - I’m a little offended, I’m the obvious choice.

Why’s that? - You tease him.

You feel something warm in your chest, and his next message flies back - I thought I was your type?

You stifle another laugh - You are, she’s not very observant.

So who did she guess?

Your belly flip flops and you hide your face in the pillow for a moment. His obvious jealousy, even just to tease you, is making your heart quicken and you can’t stop yourself from making it harder on him.

You take a breath and reply - About half the BB crew and a few of your managers.

The replies don’t come for a moment, and you nervously refresh the chat.

Finally a message comes in - I’m trying to think of something funny to say, but I’m actually just irrationally jealous.

She was just teasing, no need to be jealous - You smile into your hand.

Doesn’t matter - He says - Now I’m just here alone wondering which of our coworkers Iseul thinks you have chemistry with

He is jealous. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the swooping sensation in your belly and press your legs a little tighter together. If you close your eyes you can feel the echo of his hands on you from last night, and all you want in the world is for him to come down here and kiss you hard like that again.

With a slow exhale you return to your phone - Don’t be jealous, Yunho. We both know I’m yours.

Yeah? - His reply comes after a beat - No need to be jealous then.

Exactly - You reply.

I bet you like it a little though - His message flies in as yours sends.

You feel warm all over and you run a nervous hand through your hair before replying - No, I don’t.

Jagi, you forget I can feel how worked up you’re getting.

Your stomach clenches, drops and twists. He’s going to be the death of you and you’re still just flirting.

You work up the courage and finally send your reply - You’re the one that pinned me to the wall last night.

I’ve been thinking about that all day - The message reply is fast.

You smile and bite your lip, snuggling further into the mattress and trying to ignore the growing pulse between your thighs - You did seem distracted during rehearsals.

You feel warmth in your chest, and you know exactly how much your flirting is affecting him. Another text pings through and you shiver when you read it - How could I not be distracted with you there? All I could think about was the way you said my name last night.

Your thighs press together - Yunho?

Yes, jagi?

Or more whiny, was it? Yunho-ya? - You type it out fully, emphasizing the extended sound, knowing exactly what he wants to hear from the way he gripped you last night.

The room is suddenly hot, and your heart beats faster to sync with his.

It takes a moment for him to respond, bubbles popping up and then receding again and you wonder how he’s lying in bed. If he’s hard already, if he’s palming himself? You wonder if he sleeps naked when he’s alone and youre core clenches, arousal pooling in your gut and you know he can feel the threads of it. When he finally presses send on his message you have to cover your mouth to keep quiet.

Feeling needy? Are you squirming around in that hotel bed wishing for me, sweetheart?

You feel that message from your top to your toes and you steal a fast glance at the bed next to you. Iseul is sound asleep, turned away from you and snoring softly, and you let out a relieved, shuddering breath.

You could pump the brakes here, tease him and find a way to say goodnight, but you simply can’t. Need and arousal overwhelms you and you tap back your reply fast - I’ve been aching all day.

Do you have headphones?

The question catches you off guard, but you write back - Yes, airpods.

Put them in - He says, and you swallow tightly, reaching for the little headphone case on your bedside table.

Your fingers are shaking as you take them out of the case and put them in, making sure they’re connected before you reply - Done.

His call lights up your phone, ringing in your headphones and you swipe to answer with a panicked glance at the bed next to you, but Iseul sleeps on, none the wiser.

“y/n?” His voice is so rich and quiet, a little raspy edge after singing all night and you nearly moan.

“Hi,” You whisper as soft as you can, “I can’t,”

“Don’t talk,” He soothes you, “don’t wake Iseul up, I’ll talk to you and you can text me back, okay?”

You minimize the call and open your chat back up, sending him a quick emoji to acknowledge his words.

“Perfect,” He laughs softly, “this is way easier than texting. Listen, I know we said slow, but I’d love to help you relax if you want that. If not, I can just say goodnight, it’s up to you.”

You exhale softly, a needy thrill in your gut - Let’s relax together.

“Oh,” He sighs pleasantly, “yes, I’d love that.”

You want me? - You ask.

“You can feel how much I do,” He responds, “I’m sitting here convincing myself not to come downstairs and get my hands on you.”

You hum softly, shifting in the sheets and relaxing deeper into the pillows.

You hear his own breath, the way he parts his lips with a wet sound, “Can you tell me what position you’re in?”

You tap out the reply - Lying on my front, on my stomach.

“Hmm,” He sounds pleased, “I bet you look so cute, all twisted up in the sheets and blushing,”

I was tossing and turning.

“I bet you were,” He groans a little, “I tried everything. I hit the gym, cold shower, did some deep breathing, but you have me so keyed up I can’t sleep,”

You send him another emoji, the blushing face.

He laughs, the rumble of it too deep and warm in your ear with your headphones in.

You tap out another message - What position are you in? Trying to picture it.

You hear him shift around in the sheets, “I’m on my back,”

Wearing?

He chuckles, “Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking what you’re wearing?”

I asked you first.

“Fair,” He shifts again, and you picture him restless on his back in the bed you shared the night before, “just boxers,”

A heavy sigh passes through your lips.

“And you?”

You wish it were sexier all of a sudden, but that just wouldn’t be practical in a room with your friend so you tell him honestly - Pajamas, the button down kind, they’re gray.

“God, you’re adorable,” The covers on his end shift again, “wish you were up here with me.”

Me too

“This is probably better,” He says though, “I don’t think I could hold myself back for another night.”

Me either - You confess.

“y/n,” His voice warms, low in his chest, “jagiya, can I help you? Can I tell you what I want you to do?”

Your hands are shaking and you type the reply so fast there’s a typo that you have to fix - Pfease - Please.

He chuckles, “Alright, get comfortable, just listen to my voice, okay?”

You message him one last thought - What about you?

“I’m… I’m, uh,” He lets out a shaky breath, “I’m already stroking for you,”

You press your lips together to keep from making a sound, dropping your forehead to the pillow in front of you.

That’s so hot - You text him quickly when you hear him say your name, probably a little nervous he came on too strong.

He hums, “Good,” he says, “then don’t worry about me, just listen to my voice.”

You set your phone to the side, snuggling into the mattress and the pillows just like he asked for, sparing one more glance at Iseul to confirm she’s still completely out of it.

“Comfy?” He asks when you stop shifting around.

“Mhm,” You murmur in a whisper.

“Good,” He sighs, “now slip one of your hands under your cute little pajamas, between your thighs.”

You slide your arm down, tucking it under your body and into your sleep pants.

“Under your panties too,” He says, his voice a little husky.

“Mhm,” You murmur again, following his words.

“Tease a little for me,” He instructs you, “not too fast, just your fingertips on the outside,”

You breathe low and slow, gently passing the pads of your fingers over your slit, just barely ghosting against the hard nub of your clit.

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” He groans a little and you hear the sound of sheets, “you make the cutest faces when you’re feeling good,”

You make the tiniest noise of acknowledgement, fingers still brushing your cunt.

“Can’t wait to see you fall apart for real,” He confesses, a strain in his tone as he sighs, and you picture him. His long legs spread wide in the bed, stretching from corner to corner, his boxer briefs pushed down and his hand fisting his cock.

You’re going to lose it when you finally get to touch him again.

“You can touch now,” He murmurs, getting your attention back, “are you wet?”

You push your fingers through your folds and sigh when you feel just how slick and swollen you are. With your other hand you find the phone nearby and tap out a quick message - So wet

“That’s good, that’s so good,”

Your fingers start to circle on your oversensitive nub and there’s no way he won’t have you coming in five minutes or less with it feeling this good and his heavy breath in your ear.

“R-rub your clit for me,” He pants and your eyes roll, you can hear the sounds of the sheets rhythmically swishing as he pumps his cock harder, “get your fingers nice and wet,”

You whimper into the pillow, biting down hard on your cheek to keep yourself in check.

“Oh, fuck,” He groans, “sound so pretty,”

You rub harder, faster, your legs stretching wide under the downy comforter to give you better access.

“Baby,” He gets your attention with that, “push two fingers inside yourself, imagine I’m there with you,”

You shift, hand slipping lower and body arching to slide your middle and ring finger as deep as they’ll go. You stay mostly quiet this time, but your breathing is heavy and you’re sure he can hear it.

“Close your eyes,” He murmurs, “picture my fingers,”

You gasp softly.

“Grind,” He tells you, “grind your pussy on my palm and feel my fingers fucking you,”

You bite back a moan, only the slip of a soft sound into the microphone as you start to rock, rolling your hips and working your clit against your hand as you sink into his fantasy. You always took him for soft, the romantic type who’d blush at saying the word ‘pussy’ let alone talking you through what’s bound to be the headiest orgasm of your life, but you’ve never been so happy to be wrong.

“Yes,” Yunho moans and you shudder, “I can hear you moving, you’re doing so good,”

Pleasurable stars burst behind your eyes and you grind harder into your slick palm.

“So good,” He groans and you hear him roll in the bedding, his voice changing to something lower and breathier, and then the rhythmic rock of sheets from his side of the phone tells you all you need to know. You can almost see it, Yunho braced on his forearms, hips thrusting to drive his cock in and out of his hot fist, his face buried in the pillow you slept on the night before.

Heat melts through you, your body alight, and you grapple to find the phone again - Close

“Already?” He says in a flushed exhale, “You’re so hot, that’s so hot,”

You need him to talk to you, you need him to tell you what to do, and you whimper into the bedding as you work your body faster up to the peak.

“You gonna come for me?” He murmurs, “Yeah? Hmm?”

You drop the phone and press a hand over your lips, stifling the threat of a real moan.

“Let go,” His voice is so low in your ear you can practically feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, “come for me,”

Your legs are trembling, knees digging into the mattress and sweat gathered on your brow, and you feel the pressure start to crack open inside you, “Coming,” you whimper into your fingers so he knows, and then it breaks.

“God, good girl, yes,” He groans, “I’m coming with you, fuck,”

Your body curls into itself as you release, locking up in pleasure as you feel wave after wave of heat. You bite down on your knuckle to keep from making a sound, silently falling apart, dimly aware somewhere in your gut that half the heat you felt was his, that part of that pleasure was his own.

Yunho moans in your ear as you ride the sensations, panting and cursing and you can’t wait to feel him pulsing inside you while he sounds this good.

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover, but when your brain starts to connect again you realize you’re panting against the cool flat of the mattress and both your phone and pillow are nowhere to be found. You swallow hard and pop your head up, but Iseul hasn’t moved an inch and you thank god for her liberal use of melatonin while traveling.

In your ear you register the sound of Yunho’s breath and the end of a sentence, “still there?”

He must have been talking, and you try to focus in on the sound of him now as you slip your hand out from between your sticky thighs.

He exhales slowly and you hear him shifting around, “y/n, baby, are you there?”

“Uh-huh,” You manage.

“Sleepy?” He murmurs, misreading your sound, “That’s okay,”

You make a tiny noise of protest and search the bed for your phone.

“Baby?” He’s confused and you grin at his sleepy sated tone.

Sliding off the bed onto nearly boneless legs, you find your pillow off to the side and your phone underneath. You snap it up and send a message quickly - Wait

“Wait?” He breathes, “Sure, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here,”

You tiptoe to the bathroom as quietly as you can and then shut yourself behind the heavy door, flicking on the light and collapsing to sit on the closed toilet lid.

You disconnect your earbuds and bring your phone to your ear, “Hey,”

“Hey,” He murmurs, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” You smile, still a little breathless, “Hiding in the bathroom for a sec so I could actually talk to you,”

He hums, a quiet, lazy laugh, “Ah,”

“Are you okay?” You find yourself asking, a little nervous tumble in your gut.

“Me?” He says, “I’m incredible, you’re incredible,”

“Yeah?” You draw your knees up, wrapping your arms around yourself and smiling into the phone.

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” He checks, but you still hear the sound of him calling you ‘good girl’ and you shiver.

“Not too much,” You sigh into the phone.

“Good,” He hums, “I thought so, I was trying to pay attention to how you were feeling, but it was a little,”

“Hard to focus?” You offer and he laughs.

“Yeah,” He sighs again, heavy and sated.

“I can’t wait for this tour to be over,” You confess, “I just want to be with you,”

You feel a pang in your chest and listen as Yunho rolls in the sheets, “I know, I want that too,”

A little lump forms in your throat and you breathe through it, “Yunho,”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Have you ever felt like this before?” Your thundering heart has started to slow, and you let your eyes close as you murmur the question.

“Never,” He murmurs, “but I felt this way before we touched,”

You feel his tenderness wrap around your heart as if he were in the room with you, and with a small smile you whisper, “I thought you said you weren’t holding a candle?”

“I lied,” He says softly, “it’s been you for a long time,”

He doesn’t say it, not in so many words, but you feel the way he loves you through the link in a wave. It’s as good as any confession to you, just as honest if not more so.

“I wish I could come upstairs,” You manage, tears pricking your eyes.

You hear him swallow and breathe a slow breath through his nose, “Soon, I promise. We’re going to do this right,”

“I know,”

“Are your headphones still in?” He asks

“No, but I can switch back,”

“Put them back in and go get back in bed,” He softly instructs, “it’s late, but I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, okay?”

“Okay,” You swap back over to your earbuds and adjust them.

“Get back to bed,” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yunho,” You interrupt him, “thank you for staying with me,”

“Always,” He says, and for the first time in your life when someone says they’ll be there, you believe it.

“I’m going back out,” Your voice drops to a whisper, “good night,”

“Mhm,” He listens as you slip back into bed, “just get comfortable, just breathe. I’m right here with you, jagiya, I’ll be right here.”

He murmurs to you softly until your mind is sinking into darkness, body finally unspooling and letting you drop off into sleep. It’s not the same as his arms around you, but it settles you more than any meditation, his voice a steady whisper through your dreams.

In the morning when you wake the call is still connected and the first sound you hear is his slow breath and the steady beat of his heart.

#yunho #jeong yunho #honeyhotteoks fic #yunho x reader #yunho fic #yunho ff #yunho smut #yunho fluff #ateez #ateez fic #ateez ff

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frenchkisstheabyss · 3 months ago

Text

♡ Wondering ♡

♡ Pairings: frat boy!mingi x chubby!fem!librarian!reader

♡ Genre: angst/fluff/smut

♡ Summary: While working your job at the campus library you find that the most popular guy on campus has developed quite the crush on you. Thinking that it's some sort of prank, you dismiss him completely but Mingi has his heart set on making you his and isn't content to give up that easily.

♡ Word Count: 4.5k-ish

♡ Warnings: mingi really develops a thing for chubby girls, reader has body insecurities, body worship, kissing, male masturbation, porn, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, a lil hair pulling, a lil rough sex for a sec, technically cum marking, pet names (baby), but otherwise fluffy

♡ A/N: This is a fic I wrote for a super adorable anon and as always I'm super honored that you even asked me to write this my love. I truly hope that I did your idea some justice and you enjoy it. To all the chubby babes out there who may read this, you're a bad bitch, I swear to you, and if anyone tells you otherwise I'll swing on em. Kay, love you, bye - xoxo

Nothing. Mingi strokes his cock—his palm gliding up and down his length, his thumb circling the rim—and he feels absolutely nothing. Lying in the darkness of his bedroom, the warm glow of light emanating from his phone illuminates the frustration on his face. His gaze lazily dances across the screen where a woman lies naked, a sex toy vibrating between her thighs. She’s in his favorite position, making his favorite noises, but he can’t get off on it.

Giving up, he lets out a groan, throwing his head back on his pillow. It’s been weeks of this. He’s been too horny to function but when the time of action comes he can only get halfway hard and nothing feels the same as it used to. Maybe a different video will help. Bringing his phone in close to his face, he scrolls through the recommended videos. His cock still in his hand, he feels it soften into a sad, floppy thing the further down he scrolls.

Just as he’s about to call it a night, prepared to at last put himself out of his misery, something catches his eye. An image of a naked woman spread across a bed, her plush body fully exposed. She’s bigger than other girls he’s seen naked in porn, even in real life. She’s chubby and soft with shimmering gloss on her lips and stretch marks on her thighs. His breath hitches at the sensation of the blood rushing down his length as he takes her in.

His interest officially piqued, he clicks into the video and watches her in action. He’s hypnotized by the way she bounces and jiggles, every motion of her body too perfect to comprehend. The skin pulls tight around his cock, beads of arousal rolling down the tip as he quickens his movements. His bottom lip catches between his teeth, an attempt at choking back the low groans fighting their way up his throat at the sight of juices moistening the woman’s soft thighs.

Seeing her hits him with a rush of something unfamiliar. Something that has his stomach muscles contracting and his mouth watering. His mind goes wild with thoughts of what it’d be like to touch her, to feel her body trembling against his. What he wouldn’t give right now to grip a belly like that or drag his tongue across the plush of her ass. It’s exhilarating, unlike anything he’s ever felt before. His cock grows so sensitive that he’s twitching with every stroke.

Any care for if his roommates can hear him flies out of the window as a dizzying heat washes over him, the veins along his length throbbing as a waterfall of white shoots up onto his stomach. His phone drops onto the bed and he lets out a pitiful whimper, his eyes clung shut as he gives in to an orgasm so strong it makes his muscles weak. He’s so high from it that he fears he’ll never come down. Breathless, his skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, he sits up in bed and flicks the light on to see what a mess he’s made of himself.

His eyes drift back to his phone where a suggestion for a similar video calls him. He takes a deep breath, feeling his cock stiffening again so soon. Mingi picks his phone up, his thumb hovering over the Next button. It’s 3am and in a few hours Yunho will be banging on his door to go to football practice. He should get his shit together, clean himself off, and go to sleep. But that rush was so unexpected, so utterly delicious. He slips back down into bed, hitting the Next button. He needs more.

“Whoa, there’s so many books here” Mingi gasps, staring up at the tall cherry wood shelves of the sprawling library.

Mingi’s seen this place in pictures before—this marble palace with its sky high shelves and expertly crafted pillars—but in all his years on campus he’s never stepped foot in it. Nothing in this literary maze ever interested him enough to require a visit. His college career has always depended more on athletics and frat politics than it has books.

Most of his professors were more than content to give him a passing grade simply because of who he is. A stroke of luck that ran out the moment a new Women’s Studies professor stepped foot on campus. She’s set out to challenge him, to make him work for his grades if he actually wants them. A true tragedy if he’s ever been faced with one.

“Duh, it’s full of books. It’s literally a library” Yunho laughs, plopping a small stack of books into Mingi’s arms. “I grabbed everything you need except one. The Vagina Monologues. You’re gonna have to go ask one of the librarians for help.”

Mingi winces at the thought of the title leaving his lips and falling on a complete stranger’s ears, “Why’d it have to be called that?”

“Oh, stop being a child” Yunho huffs, catching a glimpse of a young woman pushing a cart of books past the aisle. “There! Go ask her!”

Mingi hesitates a moment but Yunho shoves him forward, “Off you go.”

Stumbling his way down the aisle, Mingi traces the sound of squeaky cart wheels a few rows over, stopping dead in his tracks when his gaze finds the woman pushing it. She wears a flowy, pear colored dress with white lilies printed all over it. It’s long enough not to scandalize the other library staff but short enough to get a glimpse of where her thighs begin to kiss. From behind Mingi can clearly make out her shape in it, the plushness of her figure bringing to mind things he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about in the library.

Humming along to a song in her head, she turns to place a book on one of the shelves and Mingi’s cheeks begin to burn. She’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. He’s said that about a lot of girls and never meant it but with this one it’s different. She has eyes that twinkle like sunshine dancing on the surface of some gorgeous lake. The curve of her nose is nothing short of perfection and her lips look like they taste of the sweetest sugar.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask. The way he stares at you makes you feel more like an animal in some zoo than the object of his affection.

Mingi shakes himself out of his daze, lowering the stack of books down to cover the slight rise in his jeans. “Uh…I…yeah…um” he stutters.

“Uh, I, yeah, um?” you tease, grabbing another book and sliding it onto a nearby shelf, “I don’t think we have that one.”

“Who are you?” he spits out as if that’s a completely normal question to ask someone when you’re the one who approached them.

“That’s a really weird question to ask someone, Mingi.”

“Wait, you know me?”

You giggle at the absurdity of such a question, “Of course I know you. Everyone knows you.”

Mingi thinks about it for a second, the reality of his popularity setting back in. “I guess you’re right. I am pretty popular.”

The grin on his face makes you nauseous. Of course you know him. And of course he doesn’t know who you are. Mingi’s from a whole different world and you’re positive girls like you don’t exist where he comes from. Rolling your eyes, you grab back onto the handle of your cart, “If there’s nothing you need…”

“Vagina!” he says, leaving you both stunned to the core, “I mean, monologues. Vagina Monologues. It’s, like, a book or whatever. Fuck it, are you busy tonight?”

A whisper of laughter drifts down the aisle, giving away Yunho’s presence. He’s never seen his best friend crash and burn this hard. Keeping a straight face isn’t an option. Yunho’s laughter may not be meant for you but it feels like it is. The first time a guy like Mingi talks to you and of course it had to be a joke.

“Second floor, in the Plays section, under E for Ensler” you snap, turning your back before you die of embarrassment right before Mingi’s eyes.

“Wait, can I at least get your name?” Mingi calls out but you’re already pushing your cart down the aisle, disappearing around the next corner without another word.

Yunho slaps a hand on Mingi’s shoulder, shaking his head in disappointment, “Who’s your new friend?”

Mingi sighs longingly, his gaze still lingering where you once stood, “I don’t know but I plan to find out.”

Sometimes when you find yourself working nights at the library you feel like Cinderella. A slave to these old dusty books, forced to clean and organize them until your manicure begins to chip while other girls are out at bars or parties. Only there’s no fairy godmother to come wave her magic wand and turn your pumpkin into a carriage. There’s no glass slipper and certainly no Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet.

Still, you need the extra money so there’s nothing to be done about it. Taking a seat at the front desk you check the time, it’s almost time to close up shop and the last few stragglers are packing up their things to head out. Once they’re gone things should be peaceful. No questions, no interruptions, no one getting on your nerves.

“Have you been avoiding me?” Mingi asks, popping up in front of your desk.

“Oh my god!” you gasp, clutching your chest, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Kill you? How could I ever hurt a girl as pretty as you?” he says in that cocky tone you’ve become accustomed to.

It’s been weeks since your first run in with Mingi and he’s been relentless ever since. He stops by every shift to ask you some silly question that somehow always turns into yet another attempt at flirting with you. You shoot him down every single time but he never seems offended or discouraged. He just keeps coming back all bright eyed and full of energy like a golden retriever. You’ve gone home every night wondering what his motivations are. Why’s he being so persistent?

Sometimes for the hell of it you let yourself play with the idea that he might actually be attracted to you. Mingi is drop dead gorgeous after all and, even though you refuse to laugh at any of his stupid jokes, you find him pretty charming. For all his cockiness, he’s sweet in a way that makes you wonder what it might be like to be truly adored by a guy like him. This little fantasy of yours is always disrupted by the vision of Yunho laughing at the two of you. It’s a joke, that’s all, a stupid joke that Mingi’s cruel for not knowing when to give up on.

“Aren’t you sick of coming here?” you ask, pretending to be busy on the laptop, “There must be something else you can entertain yourself with.”

Mingi smiles down at you, fawning over how your skin glows in the shreds of sunset that peek through the windows. “There is actually. I’m having a party tonight and I want you to come.”

Your eyes shoot open, an involuntary burst of joy hitting you. “A party?” you ask, sounding more excited than you intended to. Catching yourself, you reel back the excitement but it’s too late, Mingi’s already caught it.

“Yeah, a party” he says, reaching behind the desk to grab a pen and a sticky note. He scribbles down the address and sticks it to your laptop screen. “Tell me you’ll come.”

He sounds so genuine when he says that. It’s almost as if he’s truly desperate to have you around. You look up at his face and feel the butterflies in your stomach go into a frenzy. You’ve heard the way other girls talk about him, the way they swoon over him like he’s this magical thing. You don’t want to be one of them, just another girl pining after Song Mingi but here you are.

You clear your throat, snatching the blue sticky note from your screen, and putting it aside. “I don’t really know if I wanna spend my Friday night with a bunch of wasted pretty boys.”

“Ooh, so you do think I’m pretty” Mingi blushes, batting his eyelashes.

You pick up a stapler, threatening to throw it at him, “Leave now and maybe, just maybe I’ll consider coming to your little party.”

Mingi throws his hands up, carefully backing away from the desk, “Fair enough. I’m wearing all black by the way. In case you wanted to, ya know, match or something.”

You wind your arm back, placing it in perfect formation to hit him in the head with the stapler. Mingi gets the message and scurries out of the door, leaning his head back in for a split second to whisper, “See you later, beautiful.” He winks at you and you groan but he’s gone now and there’s no one left to take your anger out on.

As the last few visitors trickle out you find yourself sitting in the silence of the library, that blue sticky note calling your name. You pick it up, swearing you’ll toss it in the trash but you only stare at it, reading the address over and over again. Some stupid frat party with a bunch of stupid boys at some frat house on the edge of campus. Why would you ever waste your time going to something like that? And who does he think he is insinuating that you’d even want to match with him? Anyway, you only have one good black dress and you’re sure it doesn’t even fit anymore. It isn’t even worth trying…is it?

“I’m telling you, this girl’s gorgeous and she’s super smart too. She knows everything about books and stuff, like, you can ask her anything and she just knows” Mingi rambles, grabbing another beer from the fridge.

“Because it’s her job” Yunho teases, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Mingi pops the beer open, flicking the metal top into a nearby trash can, “And how did she get that job? Because she’s smart.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen him like this over a girl…ever” Jongho says, stealing Mingi’s beer for himself.

“Well I think it’s cute. Mingi’s got a girlfriend” Wooyoung sings, making cute little hearts with his fingers.

“She’d be his girlfriend if she didn’t hate his guts” Yunho mumbles half heartedly.

Mingi gasps, taking offense to that, “She doesn’t hate me, she just hasn’t fully warmed up to me yet but she will.”

He looks around the kitchen and his friends all eye him skeptically. Mingi didn’t say that with nearly enough confidence for them to believe him and the truth is that he barely believes himself but how does he tell his friends that? He’s the one who girls drool over. He’s never the one doing the drooling. He has a reputation at stake and here he is ruining it for a girl who probably won’t even show up tonight. But he can’t bring himself to give up on you yet.

That first night after he met you he couldn’t get you out of his head. He kept imagining that face, that body, under him, on top of him, next to him. Just the thought of you made him hard enough that touching himself was mandatory to ease his need for you. And the more he showed up to bug you the more fascinating he came to find you.

Yes, you were snippy but never enough to directly chase him away. You let him stick around long enough for glimmers of your true personality to show. You’d made the terrible mistake of showing him how sweet you could be, how funny of a girl you are, and it only made things worse for both of you. More than having sex with you he wants to kiss you and hold your hand. He wants to tell you how pretty you are and not have you threaten him with a blunt object for it.

“Not to be that guy but when did you start liking…ya know?” Jongho says, hoping that the others will know what he means without it coming off rude.

“Chubby girls?” Wooyoung asks, making Yunho almost choke on his beer.

“You can’t just say that” Yunho coughs, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the beer from his lips.

Mingi’s eyes narrow, the question not quite setting right with him, “What does it matter?”

“I mean, it…it doesn’t. I swear it doesn’t” Jongho stammers, looking anywhere but at Mingi.

Wooyoung shrugs, coming to Jongho’s rescue, “In his defense, we’ve never seen you with one. She’s not your usual type.”

“So, what? Just cause she’s not my ‘type’ it has to be weird?” Mingi presses.

No one says anything, not a solitary word. They only stare at the doorway, their faces drained of any color. In the next room a party rages, in the kitchen an argument is ready to erupt, and there you stand in between the two hearing something you shouldn’t have at a time you shouldn’t have heard it.

“Hmm, well, thank you for that. I’m so happy everyone knows what I already did” you say, laughing to avoid tears, “Thank you for the invite, Mingi. Really.”

Something’s said, you’re sure it’s by Mingi, but you can’t hear it. You’ve gone numb to everything. Even the music blaring from the speakers a few feet from you feels like it’s playing from miles away. Desperate to outrun the tears stinging the corners of your eyes, you rush through the crowd of partiers in the living room and make your way outside.

The autumn air blows against your cheeks, cooling your tears as they begin to escape. You wipe them away, doing your best to look normal as you pass people headed into the party, but you can’t seem to stop them from falling. You feel so stupid for ever believing that Mingi’s feelings for you were anything but a joke he could laugh about with his friends. His words ring in your ears as you approach your car, frantically digging through your purse for your keys. Not his type? Well he isn’t yours either. You’ve never been too fond of assholes anyway.

“Shit” you hiss, the keys in your hand tumbling from your grasp the second you pull them out. You bend down to pick them up but someone snatches them away before you can. You spin around to find Mingi standing there, your keys jingling away as they twirl around his fingers.

“Give them back” you demand, grabbing for your keys but he holds them up high just out of your reach.

“You’re crying” he says and you can almost see his heart shatter, “Come back inside.”

“Why? So you and your friends can make fun of me to my face this time?” you ask, still fighting for your keys back but to no avail.

Mingi frowns, “Make fun of you? We weren’t making fun of you. I’d never let anyone do that to you.”

“So, what? Just cause she’s not my type it has to be weird?” you mock, feeling childish but justified considering the circumstances.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that just because I’ve dated smaller girls that doesn’t mean I can’t like you and I do. I really, really like you” he swears, “I love your body. I think it’s beautiful. Everything about you…I’m just obsessed with and all I wanna do is show you how special you are but you won’t let me and I don’t understand why.”

Folding your arms across your chest, you stand on the sidewalk staring at Mingi like you hate him but it’s not him that you hate. It’s the fact that you believe him. The tears have slowed now but your cheeks are still wet, black streaks of mascara beginning to run down your face. You drop your head, embarrassed by your mini breakdown, and Mingi swoops in, giving you a chest to lay your head on. His long arms wrap around you, locking behind your back to keep you close. It’s your instinct to pull away but his embrace is too comforting and warm to abandon.

“If you want me to leave you alone forever I promise I will. I’ll let you go and you’ll never have to see me again” he whispers, “But if you stay I promise I’ll be good to you.”

Your stomach sinks at the thought of never seeing him again. Day after day all you’ve done is tell him to leave you alone but it never occurred to you how much it’d hurt if he actually did. “I don’t want you to leave me alone” you admit, your face emerging from the black abyss of his shirt, “That’s, like, the exact opposite of what I want you to do.”

Mingi cups your face, his thumb stroking the curve of your cheek, “Good because I wasn’t actually gonna leave you alone. How can I when you look like this? You’re even a pretty crier. How’s that possible?”

You’ve always managed not to blush when Mingi’s said things like this—at least not when he’s around—but you don’t stop yourself this time. You don’t even make the tiniest attempt at hiding how utterly giddy you are over his comments.

“Ooh, is that a smile I see?” he gasps, immediately making you regret it. You motion to hit him in the arm but he grabs you by the wrist, slipping his hand into yours as he leads you back towards the house. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll clean you up then we can talk more, okay?”

Mingi looks back at you and you could swear that time stands still. This isn’t where you thought you’d be on a Friday night, walking through a frat party hand in hand with one of the most popular guys on campus—with Mingi. He’s guiding you up the stairs, looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world and for the first time, somewhere deep down inside, you’re beginning to feel like it.

Before you left the house tonight you swore that you wouldn’t become some frat party cliche. Mingi’s hot, there’s no doubt about it, but there was no way you’d wind up bent over some bed with your panties around your ankles.

You were actually right about that. You’re not bent over some bed, you’re laying across it, and your panties aren’t around your ankles, they’re tossed off to the side of the bed, blending in with the pile of black clothing you collectively shed before you found every inch of Mingi’s cock stuffed inside of you. You came up here to talk, that was it, and in your defense you did talk. You were vulnerable with each other, you opened up about your feelings, and the next thing you knew your tongues were so far in each other’s mouths that you could feel it in your throats.

Mingi’s kiss is sweeter than you imagined. It’s the kind of kiss you could get lost in it. Even now, after he’s been kissing your lips raw for the last half hour, you find yourself wanting more. You’re so wrapped up in him, so completely consumed by the ecstasy of having him inside of you, that you aren’t even focused on the fact that you’re naked. You can’t begin to care if you look good or not when your body’s flush with heat, feeling the best it has in your entire life.

But you do look good. Nothing in Mingi’s wildest dreams could compare to how beautiful your body actually is. His hands explore your curves, discovering those spots he knows will come to be his favorites. That squishy belly of yours that pokes out just a bit more when he massages your sides. Those pillowy thighs that seem even thicker when he presses them to your chest. Those breasts that bounce softly against his face while he’s sucking at your bud.

“You’re so fucking amazing, baby” Mingi whispers, licking his way over the hills of your breasts to bring his lips to yours. “I do have a type. You know it’s you, right?”

“Is that so?” you tease, trembling at every stroke of his cock between the slickness of your walls. You run your fingers through his hair, your back arching against the mattress so much that you’re sure you’d float away if the weight of Mingi’s body weren’t pinning you down.

Mingi kisses you like a starved man whose hunger can only be satisfied by the taste of you. “Mmm, can’t you tell?” he hums between sloppy kisses, “Can’t you feel it?”

He snaps his hips into you and you let out a moan that makes you grateful for the loud music blaring downstairs. Keeping his lips locked to yours, one hand gripping your hip and the other cradling your face, he thrusts into you harder. Hard enough to make the bed creak. Hard enough to make your walls clench tighter. Hard enough to have you tugging his hair, moaning between his lips while your decadent juices drip down his length.

Mingi groans, holding you even tighter as the head of his cock rides the ridges of your sweet spot. Your insides are so spongy and wet, clenching around him just right. There’s no way he can go back to masturbating after this. The thought of you won’t be enough. Fantasies are absolutely nothing compared to what it’s like to truly feel you under him and around him.

“Mingi, mmm, gonna cum” you whimper, your eyes wide and glossy as you look up at him.

You sound so cute when you say it that he loses his sanity for a second, his hips stuttering before picking up the rhythm again. Mingi slips both hands behind your neck, deepening the kiss as he bottoms out completely. Heat pools behind your belly, spreading through your body until you’re sure flames are dancing at your fingertips. Your body tenses, a weak little moan falling from your lips before your vision goes blurry and your high washes over you.

“That’s it, good girl” Mingi coos, basking in the warmth enveloping him, “So pretty when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.”

Your walls are pulsing, fluttering wildly around his swollen cock. Your cum just pours down him, making every movement slippery wet. He can’t take it anymore. He couldn’t hold back even if he tried.

“Aah, fuck” he hisses, pulling out of you just in time to paint your inner thighs in white, leaving ropes of cum dripping dangerously close to your core.

Completely destroyed by your orgasm, you’re plastered to the bed and can only watch as Mingi catches his breath, immediately going to work planting kisses all over your body. He kisses the places you love and the places you hate. He worships them all with his lips because to him they’re perfect in every way.

You surrender yourself to the reality of that, letting the lingering adoration from each kiss sink into your skin. Mingi’s yours, he has been since he first laid eyes on you in that library, all you ever had to do was let yourself have him.

#ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez angst #song mingi x you #song mingi x reader #mingi smut #mingi angst #mingi fluff #mingi x reader #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x female reader #ateez x you #chubby reader #plus size reader

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sorryimananti-romantic · 11 months ago

Text

Guerrilla

serialkiller!dr.yunho x writer!reader

he is a serial killer with morals okay almost a vigilante

dni if you're not comfortable with this trope.

genres and warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive, violence warnings, atz as doctors cameos, some gory descriptions, twisted morals, past trauma, questionable stuff honestly esp yunho's intrusive thoughts, read at your own risk.

word count: ~27k

synopsis: 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.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (i had a dream. we talked about it and this happened-)

“You know, if you could just help me bring my bags inside instead of staring at me like I’m about to commit a homicide, maybe you wouldn’t have to complain about the noise and not being able to focus on… whatever the heck you wanted to do.”

Yunho blinked. Was he hearing you right? When you cocked your head waiting for a response, he licked his suddenly dry lips. “I’m just worried about the amount of bags you’ve brought at this hour of night.”

The ungodly hours after midnight. You tucked your hair behind your ears before dragging one of the heavier bags to your room, the floorboard creaking unceremoniously. You heard the groan of your house owner who finally got up after a solid ten minutes of judging you and went to the porch to pick up a bag-

And almost fell on his knees.

“What the fuck did you put in here?”

“What do you think?” You asked, throwing the bag in your room and going to the porch, snatching the bag and dragging it yourself.

“A body?”

“Or two,” you muttered under your breath and again, Yunho thought he was hearing things. “It’s just my books. I thought I mentioned in the form that I’m an aspiring writer and would be coped up in my room reading or writing most hours of the day. I really won’t bother you much, just help me get my bags inside before the rain gets any worse. I don’t want my books getting ruined.”

Begrudgingly, Yunho obeyed, dragging two bags at once just to show you he wasn’t weak. You, however, did not bat an eye, much to his annoyance. After bringing in the last bags, he stood in your room looking around.

“I’m not sure this room is big enough for your books…”

“Don’t worry, I’ve lived in smaller rooms with more books,” you finally cracked a smile. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Jeong. I thought you’re usually doing night shifts?”

“I had a day off today and planned to sleep, but unfortunately, you disturbed my sleep.”

“You’re welcome,” you weren’t going to let him damper the mood. “Since you’re awake now, might as well tell me any rules about the house so I can finally go fix up a meal for myself. And an apology meal for you, though, as the owner of this house, you should be in the kitchen fixing something for your newly arrived housemate. But… I won’t complain.”

Yunho folded his arms, considering you. There was something about you that didn’t make him want to kill you in the most painful way, which was odd for him. He recalled the last time someone moved in with him and he almost dissected him alive. “Nice to meet you too, y/n. I’m trusting you read the rules before you decided to move in?”

“‘Minimal noise especially during the day, no intervening in each other’s business, an absolute no to bringing over people even if they are your family- if you have to, on a three-days notice, and… no getting to know each other. The workshop in the garage and the upper floor is off-limits.’ I believe I got them right?”

“You have an exceptional memory,” Yunho was impressed for once. “Why did you move here?”

“I’m sure you read my response in your form too, but to put it simply, I can’t afford a nicer place, though I’m curious why a doctor is living in such a dodgy little house in a shady town-”

“I, too, need to make ends meet,” Yunho explained even though he could have easily ignored your question. “Circumstances. Besides, I get a whole house instead of a cramped apartment in the city, and my workplace is close.”

“I know! Cramped apartments are suffocating. Even though I’ll only own a room here and share the floor, at least it’s a… house.”

Yunho nodded. “I’ll give you three days to settle down and break any rules except the ones mentioned in the form. Now, I understand that you can cook?”

“Always been a good cook,” you said proudly.

“We can share the kitchen expenses and if you cook enough for the both of us, I can take 40 percent off your rent. Fair offer, isn’t it?”

“Peculiar is what it is,” you told him. “But I won’t question you. If I have to cook, might as well for the both of us. Saves me money in the long run, and I need to save every penny I can.”

“Right. There are a few cabinets locked in the kitchen, please don’t try to open them. I can’t think of any other rules right now, but try to keep it down, will you? And again, the upper floor is absolutely off-limits.”

“Got it,” you nodded. “Let me know your usual schedule so I don’t think there’s a serial killer entering my apartment in the middle of the night.”

Once again, Yunho had to stop himself from twitching in surprise. “What’s your obsession with serial killers and murders? You’ve mentioned them numerous times in the past half an hour.”

“I think the rules go both ways, Dr. Jeong Yunho,” you smiled teasingly, opening one of the bags and taking a deep breath at the amount of books in it. “But if you have to know… my genres are crime fiction and mystery. I hope I don’t scare you away, especially if I ask you something odd about human anatomy.”

Yunho almost gaped at you before shaking his head and exiting your room, absolutely unnerved by you in a mere half an hour. It was crazy- usually, he was the one making people feel alarmed or discomposed, but you were an odd one for sure. However, as with every past housemate, he was sure you were going to get on his nerves and he would have to either bury your bones in the backyard- consequently breaking the ‘code’- or plan something elaborate and chase you out.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to be a pleasant person to share the house with. But when he opened the door at about 1am to a distraught looking girl that didn’t even reach his shoulders carrying six bags, some bigger than her… he wondered if he should kick you right out and remove the ad he had put in on a few websites looking for a ‘peaceful’ housemate. He was sure you must have some thoughts about him too- he wasn’t the most welcoming person and people would eventually get curious about his closed-off personality and start snooping around.

For now, Yunho peeked into your room from the stairs- you had your hands on your hips and were assessing the room, probably planning how you could fit everything in there. He checked the time- he needed to leave soon. Praying silently that you would just fall asleep or something instead of snooping around, he went to his room to get ready.

You, though, had no plans to sleep tonight. You needed to set your room and get some sleep so you could meet the deadline of your draft that was due this weekend- only three days away. You assessed the space in the room again- if you could move the bed to the corner, you could place your computer table and chair there which would be arriving in the morning. You could line the books along the rest of the walls on the floor. You didn’t need any fancy shelves. Thankfully, this room had its own closet so you wouldn’t need to worry about where to fit your clothes.

You exited the room into the living room space, wanting to get the bearings of this house. The toilet was right in front of your room and one of the reasons you moved into this dodgy house was that it was… a good house. A toilet all to yourself was a blessing, and upon checking it looked clean.

The living room wasn’t too big but it looked cosy. You noticed a lack of personal belongings and decided to add a few potted plants on the windows soon. There was no TV but you had a projector and if you moved the couch, you could have a whole plain wall which was perfect to watch dramas when Yunho would be away. The kitchen space was at the opposite end with a large countertop in between and it looked like Yunho had most of the kitchen appliances already.

And at the end where the main door was, there were stairs leading up to the doctor’s space. Off-limits. You wondered why he was so uptight but you figured that as long as he was letting you live almost for free in return for home-cooked meals and maintaining the house, you could tolerate him. It was strange if you thought about it but you didn’t have the luxury to overthink right now.

You finally had a place- better than an apartment, yet something you could afford. You found yourself smiling. You just need to meet your deadlines now and hopefully publish your book by the end of the year- before the publishers change their mind.

But first… coffee.

You went to your room to get the bottle of your favourite coffee blend, which was really a mixture from a few different brands that you had come up with after years of experimentation. You set two cups on the counter and checked the fridge for milk. You weren’t sure about the doctor’s preferences so you made a simple latte like your own. You were just finishing up when you heard the dull footsteps of him descending the stairs.

“I made coffee…” you trailed off- now that he was in a white button down and black slacks with his hair styled, it finally settled in.

Doctor Jeong Yunho was pretty damn attractive.

“Uh…” he looked around awkwardly before grabbing the mug and taking a sip, raising his brows in surprise. “This… is actually pretty good.”

You grinned. “My own blend.”

He made an impressed face and you took that opportunity to ask. “You don’t mind if I make a few changes to this floor, right? Nothing major, just a few plants here and there, maybe get a chair or two, move the furniture around to make space for the projector?”

“Isn’t it too early for that?” Yunho frowned. “I might kick you out before that. Or you might end up leaving-”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” you dismissed. “What I mean is, I’m staying out of your way so you would have no reason to kick me out because I really, really cannot get a better deal than I got with you.”

“Sure, then,” he finished his coffee. “Do whatever you like as long as you stick to the rules. I’ll be on my way then.”

You relaxed, mind already buzzing with ideas as you headed towards your room to fix your draft.

—-------------------------------

The trial period Yunho had given you was over and you were now seated in the kitchen with your third cup of coffee since midnight, awaiting your judgement.

Really, you were telling yourself that you shouldn’t worry. If you had to be your own judge, you had done a spectacular job of staying out of the doctor’s way except when unavoidable- which was usually right before he left for work around midnight when you would both eat dinner, or his usual shift in the later hours of morning. He insisted that he was fine eating alone and you didn’t have to wait for him to eat your own dinner, and yes, he sounded like he could be anywhere but there, but you told him that if you were cooking for him, you’d rather he eat at least one meal with you. For what reason, you didn’t give and he didn’t ask.

You didn’t give because you may be a self-proclaimed good cook but you were also someone who was sensitive. And that meant that if Yunho didn’t like something you cooked, you would be ready to take constructive criticism and improve.

And he didn’t ask because he could see that you were a sensitive one. He knew the moment he told you off for filling the house with potted plants within one day and you almost teared up asking if he didn’t like the signs of life around the house. He actually almost laughed at that but when he realised you were serious, he told you he wouldn’t take care of the plants. You told him you wouldn’t expect him to because the plants were ‘your babies’ and had moved two houses with you already.

So yes, you stayed out of his way. You cooked for him. You cleaned the house quite a bit- so much that Yunho almost didn’t recognise his own porch because of how different it looked in the span of a few hours that he was absent from the house. He made a point of telling you right after that your trial period wasn’t up, and you made a point of retorting with how you were just waiting for him to give in, to which you earned a scowl. By now, you knew that the doctor was not very friendly- at least not immediately. You wondered if that was the reason why he had troubles with his past housemates.

When you heard the sound of keys jingling and the door unlocking, you straightened and started heating up the dinner- you kept it traditional today- rice, beef and a lot of side dishes. Perhaps, it was your last attempt to win him over, and your heart was beating loudly with anticipation. You never waited for him to come home and share a meal in the early hours of morning but today, you made an exception. You turned around to greet him-

Finding his clothes stained with what had to be blood. His hair was all messed up as well and he had a bruise on his cheek. You exhaled. “Looks like somebody had a long night shift.”

“What are you doing this early in the morning?” He took off his shoes that you noticed were quite muddy. It hadn’t rained in a few days so you briefly wondered where he had been, but you shook your head.

No questions asked. That was the rule.

“Prepared breakfast? For you,” you scratched your suddenly itchy neck. “For obvious reasons. Last attempt to bribe you before you announce your decision.”

Yunho scanned you for a few moments before he said, “I should change first.”

“Of course,” you nodded. “I’ll set the table in the meantime.”

Yunho nodded and went upstairs, going to the room at the end of the hallway and dumping his shirt and trousers in the washing machine, turning it on. He needed to get rid of the blood as soon as possible and detergent wouldn’t be enough so he grabbed a soap and rubbed the stains on his shirt for good measure- now, the clothes would wash themselves.

It was almost a mechanical routine now, he scoffed at how his hands worked on their own now. He went to his room, unlocking it and changing into sweats. Usually, he didn’t eat much before sleeping- after all, due to his night shifts, he slept for most hours of the day and breakfast wasn’t something he cared about, but the smell of beef was making his stomach rumble. He figured he could make an exception today.

By the time he joined you at the table, there were a variety of dishes in front of him and he raised a brow at you. “You really went all out, huh?”

“Of course I would,” you shrugged. “But I’ll be honest. I got most of these side dishes as a gift from one of my friends from work.”

Yunho nodded, thanking you for the meal and eating silently, waiting and waiting but you never asked him about his bloody clothes. Did you dismiss it because you thought it might be from a patient? Or because you simply didn’t care? Was he lucky then, having found you as his housemate? Because one of the qualities he needed in his housemate that he simply couldn’t have stated in the form was a lack of curiosity or inquisitiveness. It was different than being nosy- he could deal with nosy but not someone who would overstep their boundaries because they were curious.

It was why he was apprehensive of you at first. You were a writer. Writers had to be curious and inquisitive, and you were. He knew you were only beginning right now, but the few occasions you had been curious, he was thrown off. And for the right reasons-

“As a doctor, do you think it’s more painful to bleed to death or to drown?”

“As a doctor… do you think a sharp pencil stab to the jugular vein could be fatal?”

That was really all you ever asked him. His opinion as a doctor. You asked with such simplicity that he couldn’t help but stop whatever he was doing and really think about the answer-

“I personally think it’s more painful to drown. The water burns you from the inside. Bleeding to death… you stop feeling things at a certain point and it gets easier from there.”

“Well, it depends on the location of the stab but I reckon if it’s around the base of the neck, it could be fatal. But it would have to be embedded quite deep, and then extracted so a person can bleed to death. If it stays in, there’s no point.”

And his answers would earn him your satisfaction and suddenly, you would be muttering to yourself and going for your room, probably to note it down. He had done his research there too- if he was going to have you as his housemate, he needed to do a background check on you. He didn’t find anything odd in your socials- you tended to stay anonymous and most of your blogs were writing-focused. And when he snooped in your room while you were away grocery shopping, he only found various notes and books on crime and methods of serial killers. He was ashamed to admit he spent quite some time on that book and learned a lot.

So now, having finished the delicious breakfast (you really were a good cook) and finding you uninterested in his whereabouts and the aching bruise on his cheek, he finally cracked the first smile in three days.

“I’ll let you live if you take care of the house like you have been so far. And you really don’t need to wait for me during meals. The rules are still the same.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding and laughed in relief. “Thank you. I’ll stick by the rules, and I’ll probably have dinner with you if I’m not busy- I don’t like eating alone, to be honest. You can pretend I’m not there if that’s what bothers you. Also…”

When Yunho urged you to continue, your shoulders relaxed in relief but your brows crunched in annoyance. “Do you have to bring your muddy shoes inside? I just cleaned.”

Yunho looked towards the doorway. “I can’t leave them out.”

“Well, I can’t have muddy shoes inside, so you’ll have to do something about it yourself or else I’ll be annoyed and have to clean them myself and you do not want me cleaning your shoes-”

“Okay,” Yunho waved a hand to shut you up. “I’ll take them off on the porch next time.”

“Good,” you folded your arms, considering him. “I think we’re good then.”

Yunho narrowed his eyes. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying that…”

“Well, now that we’ve settled everything, I hope you and I will get along,” you extended your hand and he warily shook it, aware of how small your hand was in his. “Now, since you’re a doctor, I must ask if you’ll take care of the loud bruise on your cheek before you sleep. We don’t want it looking worse than it already is.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he assured, and he couldn’t help but continue. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“I’ll admit that I’m curious, but I won’t break a rule- and I won’t be tricked into breaking one either,” you winked at him and once again, he found himself smiling. “I’ll just assume you had a bad day at work or a rough case. You must often get them as a… surgeon?”

He nodded and you started stacking the dishes. “You can go rest now. I’ve installed a clothesline in the backyard- I really wonder where you’ve been drying your clothes all this time, but I won’t ask. You should try hanging your clothes outside this time.”

For a moment, Yunho wondered if he should have kicked you out.

“I just have a question before you disappear,” you turned and he paused in his tracks, wondering if his stealth was worsening. “It’s an odd one, for my book, but… approximately how long would a healthy man suffer with a stab wound to this area-” you rubbed the left side of your stomach, “- given the weapon is an old 12-inch kitchen knife that’s been sharpened way too many times?”

For a moment, Yunho wondered if he had forgotten to lock the cabinet in the kitchen that contained all of his knives. “You’re uh… oddly specific.”

“I have to be,” you shrugged.

“Well…” Yunho rubbed his chin, thinking of all the patients and victims he had dealt with so far. “Can I sleep on it?”

—-----------------------

Your life was finally not falling apart, for once.

In fact, perhaps this was the calmest that things had been for a good few years now, you mused to yourself as you mopped the floor, your usual instrumental playlist on a considerable volume playing in the living room. Ever since you graduated and had to face the reality of navigating through life as an adult, mostly on your own, you had to tackle a lot of struggles and obstacles. Sure, things got better when you finally signed a contract with a publishing company and started writing for them, but whenever you thought things calmed down, there was always something happening to make you feel like everything was falling apart once again.

Like a few weeks ago when you had to move out of your apartment that you had lived in for three years because the owner decided to sell the building and every tenant had to empty their apartment on a rather short notice. You were compensated but that wasn’t enough because everything was so expensive now. You couldn’t go back to your hometown- if you went back, you would never be able to leave again. So you scoured the internet and found your current place.

And things were finally okay. You did not have to worry about rent- you were doing a good job at maintaining the house and feeding the owner proper meals and so far, he had no complaints with you (he told you if he ever did, he would make sure you knew). You were now able to keep up with your weekly deadlines and finally able to overcome your writer’s block- all thanks to Yunho.

Over the past two weeks, while you could not say that Yunho had warmed up to you, he was getting there alright. You could tell because he stopped complaining about you overcleaning- or perhaps, he admitted defeat. He also stopped protesting when you joined him for dinner before he left for work at night and it was then you would ask him all the questions you had- mostly injuries related, sometimes medical law, but you found that he was knowledgeable in legal law as well. He was never curious about why you asked him all your odd questions, but one day, he asked you what exactly you were writing.

“I’m writing about a female detective who’s assigned to a case of serial killings in her precinct. The serial killer is a strange one because he does not have a fixed method of killing and his victim pool has no pattern, and at first the detective believes that there is a group of them which may or may not be working together, but towards the end, I reveal that there was only one… and the serial killer was from the same station as her so he always knew what to avoid.”

And that was the only time Yunho looked remotely impressed with what you did- if you didn’t count the time he saw you carrying a tower of books and wondered how a tiny thing like you could carry so much. After that, whenever you told him about your progress during dinner (you insisted you needed to talk out loud about it and if he didn’t want to hear it, he could say so because you were used to talking to the walls) he would offer clarifications at least about the things that concerned him. You asked him if he had dealt with a lot of fatal wounds in surgery.

“When I was a beginner, that’s when I got the worst of them,” he admitted. “But I don’t work in the fancy hospitals anymore. With some of my colleagues, we opened our own private clinic. The hospital life wasn’t for me- at least not right now.”

That was all he offered about his personal life and you didn’t ask why he couldn’t handle a hospital life right now. Perhaps, he was going through some of his own troubles like you were too. He tended to spend most of his free time out anyway so you figured that medical practice wasn’t the only thing he was doing.

Plus, he had a thing for cars- old, beaten up cars that he would fix in his garage that he called his ‘workshop’. He would dedicate his weekend to those cars and would become so absorbed that he would forget to eat. One time, you made a smoothie for him because he had skipped his meal and when you went to the garage and cleared your throat, he appeared in your vision, all rough and messed up. You stifled your smile and raised the glass in your hand. He simply asked you to leave it in the corner and go away.

He forgot to drink that and you found it the next day in the same spot, to your dismay.

You sighed to yourself when you recalled that day, placing the mop next to the wall while you cleaned the window in the living room. You spotted a car in front of your neighbour’s house where the old couple lived and you figured it might finally be their son paying them a visit. You had actually met the couple while on your way to the convenience store and they asked you if the doctor was giving you any trouble.

“I don’t know why he couldn’t have a housemate for so long,” the old woman shook his head in worry. “He’s such a kind young man. He checks on us every weekend even though he is busy and he makes sure we go to our monthly checkups.”

“Really?” That was unexpected. “Sounds like a kind young man indeed.”

She laughed. “You must be a good person if you’ve stuck around for this long. If he gives you any trouble, just let me know and I’ll give him an earful, yeah?”

You let out a short laugh, wanting to tell her that it was probably the other way round, but it had you wondering why his previous housemates didn’t last long enough with him. He wasn’t a very strict person and the rules weren’t something one couldn’t obey. Was it because of his cold demeanour? You had to admit that he was very mysterious and sometimes, you wondered just what exactly he did other than his medical practice.

Maybe curiosity does kill the cat, so you would let it go.

You were just stacking the mops back in the shed when you heard the sound of Yunho’s bike- you could recognise the sound of his bike now- it wasn’t too loud like other bikes but had a deep sound. You turned to find him parking it in the garage and you checked your wristwatch.

“You’re… early today.”

It was half past four, the sun just starting to illuminate the sky. He usually came back when the sun was fully out. He took off his helmet and ran his hand through his hair, scanning you.

“Yes, I am,” he got off the bike, not offering an explanation. You didn’t need one either. He simply nodded at you once in greeting before going inside-

Leaving a trail of muddy boot prints again.

Cursing at him, you grabbed the mop and started cleaning after him, noticing he took off his shoes on the porch this time. You made a face at the shoes, wishing you could have made it at him and picked them up and wiped them on the grass to get most of the mud off before setting them back on the porch. When you got inside, Yunho cleared his throat.

“You don’t have to take care of my shoes, I’ve said it multiple times-”

“I just cleaned,” you clenched your jaw, turning to him. “Look. You’ve got rules in this house, and as your housemate, I’ll state my rules too.”

“Oh?” He looked amused. “Please, carry on.”

“Wipe your shoes on the grass before you take them off on the porch,” you exhaled, a weight off your shoulders. “I hate it when I have just cleaned the entire house and you come from work with your muddy shoes trampling all over my hard work.”

“Trampling might be a strong word…”

“You get my point,” you glared at him and he straightened, nodding. This was the first time he saw you angry and-

He was trying his best not to laugh right now.

“Any other rules?” He managed to ask without cracking up.

“Just…” you looked around. “Oh yes, I’ve got one. When you wash your hands in the sink, you should wipe your hands with that towel-” you pointed at the twin bunny hand towels hanging by the hook you attached on the wall next to the sink. “You can use the blue one. I have the towel for the purpose that you don’t go around spreading a water trail after yourself.”

This time, Yunho turned around and finally let out the laugh he had been holding back and you stood gaping at him, wondering if you should congratulate yourself for finally making him laugh or if the bubbling thing in your throat was your anger worsening. “What? If you don’t like that, you can kick me out.”

“No,” he turned around to face you, looking down. “I’m… sorry. I won’t do that again, I’ll abide by the rules. You don’t have to get so angry-”

“I’m not angry-”

Yunho stifled another smile, shaking his head as if to stop himself from laughing again and you narrowed your eyes.

“You can laugh in front of me. I don’t bite.”

But perhaps, that was the wrong thing to say. His smile faded and he went back to being the same, cold doctor. “You should go to sleep now.”

Just like that, he dismissed you. He dismissed you like any other time you almost cracked through his cold, mysterious demeanour. And just like always, you let him dismiss you and left him alone.

He might not kick you out for setting these rules but if you continued to try to get him to break this wall he had built all around him… he would have no other option. Curiosity could kill you, you knew, but you were so curious about what kind of a person he was. You didn’t have many neighbours but the old couple insisted he was very kind and friendly when Yunho had been anything but friendly to you. He had been distant, unapproachable, sometimes talkative but rarely smiling like he had today. You refused to believe that this was who he was. He had the brightest smile and the most heartwarming laugh that you heard today, and you vowed to yourself that even though he might kick you out for crossing boundaries…

You would make him laugh. Slowly, and surely, you would break him.

—--------------------------

Yunho had had a few eventful days and perhaps, work was the only place he felt at home now, surrounded by all of his friends who knew him. Knew who he was. Knew and didn’t judge him for being the kind of person that he was. Sure, in his own home, he felt comfortable too (except for when a certain someone started nagging) but his true home was with his people.

And to find you pop up at his workplace without a notice made his eyes twitch in annoyance and realise that the urge to kill you might not be as strong as before but it was there alright.

“What are you doing here?” He said through gritted teeth, surprising not only the old lady from next door but also the staff who walked past you.

“Jeong Yunho, that is no way to talk to a lady!” The woman said, shaking her head in disappointment and when you saw Yunho’s features soften when he met her gaze, you scoffed. “She was kind enough to walk me here- I’m having a lot of trouble with my vision all of a sudden.”

“You should have called the ambulance then,” Yunho frowned, taking the woman’s hand and guiding her across the hallway, disappearing at the end and you pursed your lips, deciding to take a seat in the waiting area.

You looked around- the clinic was big enough and the staff had been kind. It looked like it ran well. There weren’t many people here right now- only a few patients in the waiting and you read the board to see that there were a number of doctors available- a gynaecologist, dentist, paediatrician, psychiatrist, nephrologist, eye specialist, ent specialist and orthopaedic surgeon. You were reading the names of all the doctors when you felt eyes on you and you saw a man in a lab coat watching you with mild amusement. You looked away but when you realised he was still staring, you raised a brow at him and he finally approached you.

“I happened to see your interaction with Yunho earlier, and couldn’t help but wonder if you were the new housemate we’ve heard so much about?”

You were rendered speechless- first of all, he seemed to be pretty damn close with Yunho. Either that or he was nosy, but you knew Yunho wasn’t the type to keep nosy people around. And then…

The housemate ‘we’ had heard so much about?

“Uh… You’re telling me that Dr. Jeong Yunho talks about me? Here? At his workplace? Who might you be?”

“I’m Dr. Jung Wooyoung,” he extended his hand and you shook it. “I’m the dentist here, and an old friend of Yunho’s. I don’t know if he mentioned but our friend group opened up this clinic here.”

“He mentioned colleagues, not friends,” you told him and he shook his head in disappointment. “But nice to meet you, doctor. I’m y/n, the housemate Yunho talks about a lot- all good things, I hope?”

Thus, Wooyoung started retelling every conversation he had with him about you and you found him very easy to talk to. There was just something about him that invited you to relax and let loose, and soon after you heard that Yunho had told them all about you being a nagger and a clean-freak weirdo writer, you were complaining about how Yunho was borderline mean to you and you found it hard to believe that he was the warm, kind and funny person that Wooyoung insisted he was.

“I mean… the lady that I brought with me? Our neighbour? I told her she was wrong when she said that Yunho was a kind young man, but you’re saying he’s the funny one? I haven’t seen him smile in days, Wooyoung.”

“He’ll get used to you in no time,” Wooyoung waved his hand in dismissal. “You just gotta keep trying. Me? I cracked him in two days.”

“No way,” you laughed. “I’ve only made him laugh once and it’s been about a month-”

“Haven’t you got patients waiting for you, Dr. Jung?”

You froze, turning around slowly to see a tense Yunho standing at the corner, watching you two for god knows how long. You were about to apologise to Wooyoung for keeping him back but Wooyoung scoffed at Yunho.

“I expected better from you, mate. I like this one- I’m taking her to Hongjoong’s room,” Wooyoung said, getting up and helping you up too, steering you by your shoulders towards the hallway even though you protested and when you looked back to catch a glimpse of Yunho, you caught him shaking his head in disappointment-

But he let out a chuckle. He probably thought you couldn’t see him. He probably laughed because of Wooyoung. But he was going to get so mad at you-

“Don’t worry, he won’t kick you out,” Wooyoung almost whispered, winking at you. “If he tries anything, you come to me, okay? I’ll handle him.”

“Thanks,” you smiled awkwardly. “Where exactly are you taking me?”

“I would have taken you to Mingi, who’s Yunho’s oldest friend and would have given you tips on how to make Yunho give you the princess treatment, but he’s a little occupied right now so I’m taking you to Yunho’s second-oldest friend, Hongjoong.”

“When I accompanied the neighbour lady, I didn’t mean to intrude,” you paused in your tracks, looking at Wooyoung. “I’m not sure I should be here-”

“It’s okay,” Wooyoung assured you with a wide smile. “Relax. Yunho is not some big angry dude who’ll give you an earful at home. I’ll explain- and by now, he probably knows that I’m the one who’s basically kidnapped you.”

You laughed, allowing him to guide you to the eye specialist’s room and when you went inside, you saw the doctor packing his belongings. When he raised his head and brushed the dark strands away, he frowned at Wooyoung.

“The guest doesn’t look too pleased to be here, Wooyoung.”

“This is Yunho’s housemate,” Wooyoung grinned cheekily and Hongjoong said a loud ‘oh’, greeting you. “She’s the writer, Hongjoong. The crime fiction writer.”

“Ah,” Hongjoong nodded. “I read your book when Yunho told us who you were- ‘In the Silent Hours’? Amazing read.”

You were genuinely touched. “Thank you so much. I wish I could say something, but Yunho hasn’t told me anything about you all.”

“We know,” he laughed. “He can be like that. I hope you had a good experience visiting us, though, and if you have any concerns, you know where to come.”

You looked at Wooyoung who was smiling proudly. “I have way too many questions but I won’t ask- Yunho has a ‘no interfering in personal lives’ policy,” you said and they laughed as if that was the funniest thing Yunho could have done. “I’ll drop by with cookies some day, if you’re okay with that?”

“Sounds great!” Wooyoung clapped.

“I should really get going now and catch up with Yunho on our neighbour’s condition,” you said, excusing yourself and they enthusiastically said goodbye, making you unable to contain your smile as you made your way back to the entrance where Yunho was discussing something with a nurse-

Goodness, he looked so fucking hot in that lab coat with his hair done. You were positive his outworldly proportions were what made a boring lab coat look so attractive-

He caught you staring and when he finished talking with the nurse, he slowly made his way to you.

“Where’s grandma?” You asked. “Did you find out what’s wrong?”

“We’ve referred her to the nearest hospital and called her family- it seems to be a case of infarct and she’s lucky that she’s still walking and functioning like normal save for her eyes.”

“Oh-”

“And thanks to you bringing her so soon, we’ve managed to minimise the damage,” Yunho actually smiled this time and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding. “She’s resting right now- they’ll take care of her until her family comes.”

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“Well…” Yunho checked the time and you did the same- it was almost 2 which meant he would be off soon. “It’s almost time to go home. You walked here?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I should get going then.”

When Yunho didn’t say anything, you said bye and turned to leave but then you heard the familiar voice of Wooyoung shout ‘take her home, don’t be an ass!’ and you stifled a grin, facing Yunho to assure you that you would be okay walking-

“I mean… we’re going to the same place, so… I could make an exception this time- like the other exceptions I’m making,” Yunho narrowed his eyes at you. “I will pretend today didn’t happen.”

“Oh, please, I’ll walk myself home-”

“I’m kidding,” Yunho smiled and you wondered if it was the place that made him comfortable enough to joke with you. “I would have considered dissecting you alive if you dropped by for no reason, but really, you did a good thing today. Think of it as returning the sentiment.”

“I really don’t get you,” you said, ignoring the reference he made to your last inquiry about dissections, waiting for him when he said he would get his things from his room. When he returned with his bag, helmet and without the lab coat, you followed him outside, repeating that. “I really don’t get you, Yunho. You seem like two different people in one body.”

“Perhaps, I am,” he mused. “And perhaps, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood today. Here, wear this.”

He handed you his helmet and you took it, watching him get on his bike. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you can wear this, I’ll be fine-”

“Y/n,” he warned, the sudden change in his pitch sending butterflies in your stomach. “Just do as I say. Now, get on and hold on tight. I’m not slowing down for you.”

And perhaps, you should have insisted more on walking back home because he sped through the streets, making you grip his jacket tighter with each passing second, but it was so thrilling that when you reached home, you almost asked for a second round. You took off the helmet and laughed out loud, shaking your head.

“It’s not my first time riding on a bike with someone, but it’s been ages. Can I get another ride one day?”

“Don’t even think about it,” Yunho warned, helping you get off and then parking the bike in his garage. “And I hope you don’t have any questions regarding my workplace today.”

“Oh, I have many, but…” you motioned to your lips, zipping them shut and Yunho nodded in approval, unlocking the house and going inside first. You muttered ‘ass’ and went to the kitchen, heating up everything you had made today, mind still plagued with the events of today.

—-----------------------

You finished plating the steaks, satisfied at your presentation, the cheese perfectly melted on top of the fried crust. It smelled heavenly and since you now knew that Yunho was an actual food enthusiast and a surprisingly gentle and constructive critic, the simple chore of cooking became something you started looking forward to.

When you lived alone, you never made much effort to cook for yourself, but now, things were different. Your house owner was reducing your rent in exchange for home-cooked meals and you could deliver, so you waited for Yunho who would be coming downstairs any minute- he had informed you that he had to leave for work early today so you prepared accordingly, though anyone could tell you were putting more effort into the meals now.

And that was because ever since the day in Yunho’s clinic, it looked like he was finally starting to consider you more than a housemate. You couldn’t exactly call yourselves friends- the rules were still the same, but perhaps, Yunho liked that you were a person of your word. You never talked about that day in the hospital, neither did you ask him about his friends. You never asked him what happened if he came back home at an odd time or if he suddenly went out in the middle of the night. You both respected each other’s boundaries and perhaps, that was what made him start opening up to you.

It wasn’t much, no. It was the little things- him offering to help you arrange the grocery or join you when you watched netflix. He would scroll on his phone, occasionally comment on whatever you were watching and then leave. It was him actually cleaning after himself when he accidentally brought his muddy shoes inside- you gave him a thumbs-up to acknowledge his effort and even that got him flustered, which you thought was cute. And it was him actually taking interest in what you were writing instead of giving answers to the questions you asked.

When you heard his footsteps down the stairs, you pretended to be busy setting the table and he made an impressed face as he took a seat.

“This is new,” he commented, waiting for you to sit before he could dig in.

“I’ve had this recipe for a while and finally felt the urge to try it,” you told him. When he took the first bite and nodded in approval, you relaxed and began eating yourself.

“It’s been about two months. You don’t have to worry about what I think about your cooking. I’ll have it even if it doesn’t taste like something straight out of a restaurant.”

“Can’t tell if it’s a joke or not, but I like it when the other person starts first- when I cook,” you said. He understood. He always seemed to understand where you came from, which was why you both rarely ever disagreed on things.

“It’s really good,” he said. “Also, I wanted to, uh, inform you- there’s a fundraiser happening at the clinic to help the patients who can’t afford to pay their bills. If you would like to participate…”

You passed him a side-eye. “That’s not you talking, is it?”

“You’re right,” he looked guilty. “Wooyoung and Hongjoong forced me to. Something about… cookies?”

“Oh? They remember?”

“They said it’s a good opportunity to flaunt your baking skills if you’re up for it,” Yunho shook his head in thought. “I personally think it’s okay if you don’t want to bake for strangers-”

“When is it?”

“This weekend.”

“I can do it,” you said and when he looked like he was regretting asking you, you continued, “If you have some qualms about me personally attending it, I could just bake the cookies and you could take them with you.”

“No, it’s not that,” he scratched his neck. “It’s…”

“I know, and I don’t mind,” you assured him. “I agreed to your terms when I decided to move in here. I won’t interfere in your workspace if that is what you want-”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just… new for me too,” he admitted and you paused, a bit surprised to hear that. “I’ll let you know the timings-”

His gaze stuck on the kitchen counter for a few moments, prompting you to follow it and see that he was staring holes into the knife holder. You looked at Yunho again to make sure if that was what he was staring at and then his gaze went to the cabinet at the left end of the kitchen-

“Where did you get those knives?”

For a moment, you wondered if his change of tone was something you were imagining until he got up and slowly walked to the counter where the knife holder was, taking out one of the knives and examining it and then almost rushing towards the cabinet at the left end and opening it-

“I told you not to touch the locked cabinets, didn’t I?”

You would have perhaps trembled under his dark gaze if you weren’t so confused right now. “The locked cabinets, yes? But that one was unlocked?”

Yunho glared at you, knife still in his hand. “When did you check it?”

“I was looking for a knife strong enough to cut meat and I found this cabinet unlocked-”

“You used this knife to cut the meat?”

You could feel your hands get clammy by now, lower lip almost quivering and you hated how small your voice sounded when you said yes. He turned around and almost grunted in pain and you wondered just what you had done so wrong. Almost mechanically, you took another bite of your now cold steak. Yunho came back to his seat but instead of sitting, he dropped the knife on the table with a clang.

“You knew that cabinet used to be locked, didn’t you?” His loud voice shook you and you wondered what effect he would have if he shouted. “You keep breaking rules without breaking them-”

“Well it’s not my fault it was unlocked, okay?” You shouted this time, dropping your utensils on the table, frustrated. “You should have locked it properly then!”

Before he could respond, you stormed off to your room, shutting your door with a bang and he slumped down on his chair, trying to take deep breaths, trying to suppress the feeling of disgust he got when he looked at his half-eaten meal-

Because you fucking used his knife to make a meal for him.

The knife he had killed several people with.

How could he forget to lock it? He couldn’t recall not locking it, but still, how could he be so careless? How could he-

He heard a muffled sound- it was hard to miss because the house was usually very silent, but it had to be the sound of you sobbing and to his surprise, despite everything, something in his heart ached at the sound. Now that the cloud of anger was disappearing, he realised he had reacted irrationally. It was his fault for not making sure the cabinet with his murder weapons was locked. He kept them in the kitchen so it wouldn’t be suspicious if someone saw, but still, he should have hidden them well. And then what he said about you continuing to break rules when he himself invited you to the fundraiser-

Yes, Wooyoung suggested it but it was ultimately him who invited you. Yunho shook his head, disappointed in himself and wondered what to do. He came to the conclusion that for now, he needed to collect his thoughts while you sobbed. Shit, he thought. He must have scared you a lot. He had been told way too many times that he was a scary person when angry, and you did not have to see that when you spent an hour making him such a good meal.

So, disappointed and praying to the heavens above that you at least washed the knives properly before you used them, he resumed eating, almost gagging through the rest of the meal and when he was done and had one glass of cool water down his system to calm himself, he finally mustered the courage to get up, be a man and apologise to you.

The thing about you, he realised since you moved here, was that you were odd in a charming way. When he was looking for a housemate who would maintain the house and cook, he didn’t expect someone who was so dedicated to the task. You were busy too, but it looked like you had shifted your schedule to adjust to his. When he was gone to work, you slept, and when he came back, you would be waiting for him. You had added life to this house and he couldn’t believe how much his mood had changed now that the house looked like a home and he ate well.

You always gave and gave, expecting nothing in return. Perhaps, that’s just who you were. A good person, someone he could only wish to be. Someone who only wrote about horrible crimes instead of actually committing them. Someone who believed that her house owner was a respectable doctor and not a part-time serial killer as well.

That was debatable too. He had a purpose- he didn’t kill randomly. He only killed the people who deserved it. But that was a story for later- he couldn’t come into your room and tell you that reason, so what the hell was he doing standing in front of your door?

Yunho knocked gently and when you fell silent but didn’t respond, he knocked again.

“Y/n? Can I come in?”

Silence.

“Please?”

It was the gentleness in his voice that made you mutter a small yes, but only after you wiped your tears away. Truth be told, you weren’t that sensitive. You weren’t sure why you ended up throwing a tantrum and crying tonight but you figured it was long due now. You just wished you could explain to him without becoming a mess again-

And then he opened the door, looking worriedly at you. Worriedly, with his brows scrunched and actions hesitant and you found your vision getting blurry with tears again.

Dammit.

You looked away but from the corner of your eye you saw him look around the room once before hesitantly walking to where you were- on the floor, back resting against the bed. To your surprise, he sank down next to you, mirroring your position.

“I don’t know how to say it, but I’m sorry,” he almost whispered. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. It’s my fault.”

A fresh stream of tears left your eyes and you weren’t sure if it was because of what happened earlier or what he said now. He couldn’t simply come inside your room and apologise and act like it wouldn’t affect you.

“Will you look at me?”

You wiped your tears and turned to face him, hesitating to meet his eyes. He understood. He shifted a bit towards you. “No explanation will make it better, and I’m ashamed that I reacted this way when it’s my fault that I left that cabinet unlocked. I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you when you do so much for me without asking.”

“Yes,” your voice was quivering as much as your lips. “It’s your fault. I mean… I won’t ask but they are just knives, Yunho.”

And then you were crying again at the absurdity of it all and Yunho decided to take responsibility. He patted your head awkwardly and when you buried your head between your knees, he drew closer and wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he attempted to sound sincere- he was, but you didn’t need to know that he was also stifling grins. “I scared you, right?”

“You did!” You cried. “Do you know how awful you look when you’re angry? And holding that knife? I thought you were going to stab me, Yunho.”

And this time, Yunho laughed heartily, making you laugh as well and push him away. He put a hand on the side of your face to cup it, still laughing as he said, “Please. Who would cook for me if I killed you?”

“I don’t know,” you pouted. “You have a lot of friends. Maybe one of them could cook for you.”

Yunho smiled at that, wiping your tears away and you suddenly felt conscious of the position you two were in, though he didn’t seem to realise it yet- or he was ignoring it, for once. “Sorry for almost yelling at you. And sorry for saying everything that I did.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, scanning his features now that you were looking at him up close for the first time. You noticed how warm his eyes could look, how soft his features actually were. He looked perfect, and if it weren’t for all the rules that would cost you a living space, you would have crossed a lot of boundaries by now. “I’m sure you had your reasons- and I should have asked when I found the cabinet unlocked.”

“But that doesn’t justify my behaviour one bit,” he shook his head. “Now, will you come out and finish your dinner?”

“But-”

“I have finished mine,” he told you. “And now you should too. I’ll go heat it up.”

With a pat to your cheek, he left the room, leaving you wrapped in his clean and manly scent. You sighed deeply, avoiding the mirror but wiping your face before taking a seat back at the table. You watched him set the table for you.

“You should go now,” you said. “You had to leave early. I’ve probably held you back a lot, I’m sorry-”

“I’ll go when you finish eating,” he insisted and you shot him a glare before picking up your fork.

“Just so you know,” you said as you took a bite, Yunho watching you earnestly. “I don’t usually become a crying mess like I just did. I’m stronger than that.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I am,” you glared at him again. “But I have my limit too. And today was all the pent up emotions from the previous two months.”

“All because of me, huh?”

“Don’t think too highly of yourself,” you teased. “I have other things to worry about too.”

“Of course you do,” he smiled.

“Yep. Like deadlines. And chores.”

“I hope the fundraiser won’t conflict with your deadline?”

“It won’t,” you told him. “You’re assuming I’ll attend.”

“I’ll make sure you do,” he said as you finished eating the last bite. “Because I’m the one who’s inviting you.”

Perhaps, this was another step towards a relationship more meaningful than housemates. Perhaps…

He was finally starting to consider you a friend.

—-------------------------------

Sometimes, Yunho wondered if it was a good decision to have you as his housemate.

It wasn’t that you were doing anything wrong, no. You were perfect. Goodness, you were perfect and he both loved and hated that. He had no idea how he got lucky with you- and he was not thinking about the fact that he got to have delicious meals at home or his place looked maintained.

It was about the things he could talk to you about, and hell, he didn’t even talk to you much. You probably had no idea how much he enjoyed your little questions about what was the most painful way to die or how you would kill someone in a certain context- it was the only time, perhaps, that he could be himself. He had spent a long time being convinced by his friends that he was not a bad person inside, and perhaps, they were right. But if they were…

Why did he enjoy talking to you about this stuff so much? Was it because these secrets were a burden to him, even though his friends knew? He never told them the details so perhaps, talking about killing people and hurting them in detail with you helped him in some twisted, cathartic way. Whatever it was, he was certain that he was getting addicted to watching you get impressed by his knowledge about such things he claimed was from years of his surgery practice, and he was also ashamedly addicted about how unhinged you sounded when you talked about the criminals in your fiction.

He was positive you couldn’t be an undercover-something. You couldn’t even hurt a fly, let alone a human. But the way you got excited when you talked in detail about a certain type of wound or method of torture… he often found himself zoning out and simply staring at you while you talked. Perhaps, he was the unhinged one, but he found you so attractive when you talked about what you loved writing about, and he was very close to asking you about what made you write such gory crime fiction novels. He would be breaking his own rule of not interfering in each other’s personal lives, but all rules be damned- he had to know what drove you to write all of this.

He was also pretty sure you weren’t as naive as you looked and probably found his habits weird. There was no way he could look redeemable after the knife incident. While you were gone the next day, he personally sanitised all of them because he was sure you were going to keep using those knives. He figured it turned out to be okay in the end- he had to change his murder weapons and method soon anyway. The police were starting to connect a few dots and he was sure they would come with a search warrant any day.

But perhaps, it was a good decision to have you in this house. If the police ever came, you could help with Yunho’s image. He felt guilty for using you for that purpose now that he was almost starting to care about you despite his principles but… in the end, it was all turning out to be good. All was well.

A bit too well, if he had to say, as he watched you get a little too chummy with Mingi and Wooyoung. You had done a good job at the fundraiser, having baked dozens of cookies and with some strange ribbon packaging you claimed was cute. He took care of the stall but you still brought a lot of decoration from the house to give it a personal touch, and not only the visitors but the staff were also impressed by your skills. Now that the event was done and you were wrapping up everything, Mingi and Wooyoung had casually joined you to help and to praise your work. Yunho didn’t miss the subtle glances they threw in his direction as if to tease him, and what could he say?

It was working.

“Are you gonna keep watching her like she’s your next target or are you going to make a move?”

Yunho shut his eyes in mild annoyance before looking to his right where Seonghwa stood with his trademark smile, nodding at the visitors who greeted him before they left. If anyone knew that behind the kind smile of the paeds doctor was one of the masterminds of their team that essentially rooted out the evil from the society…

“I’d rather watch. I know Mingi or Wooyoung will say something stupid if I approach them now.”

Seonghwa chuckled at that. “She’s done a good job today. She’s extraordinary, Yunho.”

Yunho narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me that you two were discussing her novel when you took a break in the cafe.”

“You know what I think?” Seonghwa almost whispered as if letting him in on a secret. “If she was a part of our team, we could actually succeed in working with the police.”

“How?”

“Think about it,” he bowed at one of the elders who passed by. “Imagine her next work is about what we do. Crime fiction to others, but something the police could use to clean up our mess, yeah?”

Once again, Yunho was in awe of the way Seonghwa’s mind worked. “The police would use that to arrest us.”

“Or they would turn a blind eye and let us do their dirty work. Two sides of the coin,” Seonghwa patted Yunho’s back and left to join Hongjoong and Yunho considered what he had said. When he saw Mingi pick something out of your hair, though, he decided he’d had enough.

“Ah, you’re here,” Wooyoung had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Y/n, now is your time to tell us if you’d like to change your houseowner.”

“Nah, I’m good,” you grinned, meeting Yunho’s eyes who looked pleased to hear that. “This one is good at pretending I don’t exist so sometimes I feel like I own the house myself.”

Mingi laughed loudly at that and Yunho smiled in embarrassment. He was guilty, yes. When you noticed his ears getting red, you laughed. “I’m just kidding. I really couldn’t have a better person as a housemate.”

“You’re lying,” Wooyoung smacked your arm playfully and you put the last of the things in your duffel bag.

“You won’t understand,” you simply told Wooyoung and chanced a glance at Yunho who no longer looked embarrassed and offered to take your bag. You let him and said your goodbyes to the two, waving at the rest of the staff who told you to come again (with baked treats) and you followed Yunho to the parking lot. This time, you had made sure he had a spare helmet and when he noticed you grinning, he asked you what was so funny.

“Nothing, I’m just excited to ride your bike again,” you giggled like a kid. “I kind of have a thing for bikes.”

And there it was. Another reason Yunho felt his heart pound rather uncharacteristically.

Perhaps, that was what prompted him to break one of his biggest rules and ask, “Would you like to have dinner somewhere… with me? You must be too tired to make dinner at home, and I know a quiet spot if you’re up for it- if not… that’s okay too, we could order something instead-”

He paused when he noticed your smile growing and he raised a brow in question. You wanted to tell him that he was rambling (which was cute as hell) but you only nodded. “I’d love to. You’re right, I’m tired- and a quiet spot sounds nice at this hour. I won’t say no to a longer bike ride too.”

Yunho chuckled at that as he put on his helmet. You followed and got on the bike behind him. “It’s not gonna be a short trip if you’re okay.”

“I’m good!” You assured and he told you to hang on tight as he started the heavy bike and started driving towards the darkening horizon. You put your hands on Yunho’s shoulders but as he sped on the emptier roads, you resorted to clutching the sides of his jacket and rested your head on his back, watching the view. You loved how quiet it got in your head at times like these and it almost made you wish this moment would never end.

You didn’t know how much time passed but finally, Yunho started slowing down and you looked up, finding yourself at the riverside. When he parked in an empty space, he got down first and helped you down. You took off your helmet and smoothened your hair, looking around. It seemed to be a remote spot that the tourists had not yet discovered and the pretty lightning bordering the sidewalk illuminated the benches at the distance and-

“Fried chicken!” You grinned. “I didn’t know what I was craving until I smelt it.”

Yunho smiled, motioning you to follow him. He led you inside where you placed your orders and you both decided to take one of the tables outside. There weren’t many people here anyway so you were going to enjoy the cool river breeze.

Now that you sat in front of him, it finally settled in that you were outside with Yunho for the first time. That he offered to take you out for dinner. It didn’t help that he looked absolutely dreamy with his dark hair falling messily on his forehead and his shoulder looking even broader in the black jacket he wore, and when he ran a hand through his hair, swiping it away from his forehead-

He met your eyes and you realised you had been staring. You awkwardly sipped your water and looked towards your left, urging yourself to focus on the sound of the waves instead of the sound of your erratic heartbeat. You cleared your throat. “How did you find this spot? It’s beautiful.”

“I used to live near here when I was little,” he smiled and you thought there was something sad about it.

“Oh, your parents must still live around here then?” You wondered and when his smile fell, you knew you had asked a question you shouldn’t have.

But to your surprise, he answered, “They passed away when I was in highschool. I had to move out soon, so I couldn’t come back here for a good few years.”

“Oh, I’m… sorry to hear that,” you said and he told you it was okay. “I can tell why this place is close to your heart though. It’s wonderful here.”

“Yeah, it is,” he said and you were glad your chicken arrived at that moment, breaking the awkwardness from your conversation. “How did today go? You’re quite popular at the clinic now.”

You grinned, “Nobody can resist chocolate chip cookies, apparently. Wooyoung said I helped raise a lot of money.”

“You did,” Yunho confirmed and you both took a bite of the chicken. You groaned in appreciation.

“I don’t know if it's the river or the vibe,” you said after swallowing the first bite. “But doesn’t the chicken taste so good here?”

“There’s a reason I brought you here,” he laughed at the way you stared at the chicken. “Good food and a killer view.”

It took you both a few pieces to get comfortable and this time, when you asked him about the clinic and all his friends, he answered all your questions. You learned that Yunho and Mingi were school friends and Yunho met Hongjoong at the end of highschool. Their group expanded over the years and today, after years of studying and working together, they had their own place.

Yunho also asked you about your recent progress and you complained about your publishers. He then asked where you were originally from and he learned that you were from a small town at the outskirts of the city and had a younger brother but your relationship with your family was a bit strained so you didn’t visit them often. He also found that you didn’t have many friends, just a few you met annually. He realised then why it was so easy for you to get comfortable with Wooyoung and Mingi- perhaps, they reminded you of your friends, or maybe you missed normal human interaction.

As you finished eating, you asked him what urged him to really bring you here tonight. Yunho looked at you as if to make you reconsider your question but when you held your front, he finally gave in. “Just wanted to say thanks.”

“For what?”

“For everything,” he shrugged. “You do a lot. I haven’t done anything in return.”

“Uh, forty percent off?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Just accept the sentiment and shut up.”

“Yes sir,” you saluted and he paid the bill, insisting it was his treat even though you asked to split the bill. “Well, if you won’t let me pay, maybe we can walk a little before we go?”

“That makes no sense, but okay,” Yunho said, shaking his head in amusement and you took the lead, going towards the edge to peek down at the river and then you started your stroll.

“Isn’t it nice to get some fresh air?” You commented, taking a deep breath. “No worries, just the river and us.”

Yunho nodded silently and you grinned. “If you have more spots like these… don’t hide them from me.”

“Just this one,” he admitted and you nodded, satisfied. “What about you? Do you have a spot like this?”

You had… until everything went horribly wrong. You had a place so close to your heart that you hadn’t visited in years-

“You okay?” Yunho asked worriedly, having noticed your smile drop.

“Uh, yeah,” you pursed your lips. “I had one. I don’t go there anymore- bad memories.”

“Ah… sorry I asked-”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “If I grow the guts one day… I’ll take you there.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Just shut up and accept the offer,” you winked at him and he grinned at your statement. You noticed you had already walked around the area, the parking lot in your vision now. Before you could walk towards it, Yunho called your name, making you pause in your tracks.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?”

“Did you mean it when you said… earlier at the clinic…” Yunho put his hands in his pockets awkwardly, trying to phrase it better. “When you-”

“When I said you were a good housemate?” You asked, internally smiling because you just knew he would end up asking you to elaborate. “I meant it.”

“Why? I have been anything but nice.”

“That’s a lie,” you pointed out. “Just because you have a few rules you’re strict about doesn’t mean you’re not nice company when you’re in a good mood. And you answer all my weird questions without judgement!” You clapped your hands. “What more could I ask for?”

When you saw that he didn’t look convinced, you took a deep breath. “To be honest, my life was falling apart before I moved in with you. Everything started going wrong at the same time. It was too much and I really thought I would have to go back to my hometown- and I would go anywhere but there. So when we made a deal? Yes, I thought you were strange at first but I couldn’t complain, and now that we’ve… warmed up to each other a bit, you’re not bad company at all, Yunho. You may still be an asshole about your rules,” you laughed and he joined, the corners of his lips curving downwards- was he flustered? “But I can see why the people at the clinic like you. You’re quite dependable.”

“That’s…”

“Too much?” You laughed. “In short, you gave me a nice deal and my life is finally back to normal, and you’re a good person, you idiot. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I think you’re getting a little too comfortable with me though…”

“Yeah?” You walked towards the bike. “Says the guy who basically took me on a date.”

And there it was again- the flustered smile of his that was so endearing, the ears turning red and the nervous laugh as he wondered what to do, where to look. You laughed out loud, finding it quite funny.

“You’re a very easy prey, Dr. Jeong,” you teased. “Quite easy to get to.”

“Did you really think of this as a date?” He held his helmet, waiting for your answer and you thought about it.

“Platonic date?” You wondered. “Outing? Icebreaking party? Whatever you wanna name it…”

You faltered when he stepped closer and looked down at you, scanning your face. Suddenly, you were so conscious of the proximity between you two. The dim lights made his gaze look darker and you wished you could take a peak in his mind. He brought his hand up and tucked your hair behind your ear ever so gently, lightly caressing your cheek-

And then he poked you in the middle of the forehead, making you wince out loud.

“I’m still the grumpy mysterious owner,” he quoted what you had said to Wooyoung today and you gaped at him, wondering if he had heard the entirety of the conversation. “So don’t get too ahead of yourself, okay?”

You rubbed your forehead, muttering okay and complaining about how he could have just said so. But when you wore your helmet and settled down behind him, clutching at the sides of his jacket, he held your hands in his and you couldn’t even digest how his big hands engulfed your small ones before he wrapped your arms around his waist.

“It’s better this way- I’m speeding,” he said.

“I really don’t get you, Yunho,” you told him and he cast you a glance before starting to drive, speeding as promised. You were pretty sure he wouldn’t have cared if you held on to the sides of his jacket like earlier or his shoulders for dear life but…

But you wouldn’t complain. So you rested your head against his back again, bodies flush against each other and you let yourself feel whatever you were feeling for the ride back home.

—----------------------------

It was a good day today- somewhat productive because you were almost done writing your book and the editor was pleased with your work too. Yunho was having dinner with his colleagues tonight so you decided not to cook and just have the leftovers from yesterday for dinner then and went to your room to finally sort out the mess you had been avoiding ever since you moved in-

The books.

While you had lined all your books along the walls, creating towers of them that you were scared would one day fall on you if you ever made a clumsy mistake, you had realised that perhaps it was time you let go of some of the books. You could already feel your heart being broken at the thought but your room was starting to look too congested compared to the rest of the spacious house so you would have to make a little sacrifice.

So you spent hours sorting through the books and almost didn’t hear Yunho coming downstairs until he knocked on your room, eyes widening at the books around you.

“Yeah, I know I’m a mess,” you said. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah,” Yunho nodded, laughing in what seemed to be shock. “Do you need… help?”

“No, I’m just sorting them out,” you dismissed, though surprised at the offer. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Yunho was still lingering at the doorway. “Well, I don’t know when I’ll be back, so…”

“Have fun,” you looked at him, grinning. “I’ll be fine. This is something I do annually.”

“If you say so. Don’t get lost in there,” he teased and you rolled your eyes, shooing him away.

And that was that. You didn’t even realise how much time passed- you kept getting distracted as you held each book in hand and recalled the memories associated with it. It was only when the doorbell rang that you frowned, checking the clock. It was 09:47 pm- who could it be? Not Yunho- he had his keys. Maybe the woman from next door?

But when you opened the door to two grown men with badges around their necks, you did a quick scan, realising two things- that they were detectives, and one of the faces was way too familiar.

“Good evening, miss,” the younger one said. “We’re Detectives Lee and Seo from the station-”

“Y/n?” The older one- the familiar face called your name and suddenly, it clicked-

It clicked. Everything you had buried deep inside you, somewhere so deep that you hadn’t thought about it in perhaps a year, was suddenly out and washing over you like a wave of cold water. Everything from about two decades ago started flashing in front of your eyes and you gulped down the thing stuck in your throat with immense effort.

“Detective Seo?” Your voice sounded small even to your ears.

“It’s been a while,” he looked as confused as you. “I didn’t expect to see you here- doesn’t this house belong to a Doctor Jeong Yunho?”

“You’re right,” you told him. ��I live on the first floor on rent.”

“I see… Can we come in then?”

“If you’re here to meet Dr. Jeong, he’s not home right now-”

“We can wait,” he told you. “Besides… it’s been a while- won’t you invite us for tea?”

“You can’t just visit so late at night and expect tea,” you folded your arms, finally getting a grip. “What is the purpose of your visit, really?”

“We really needed a statement, or anything from the doctor,” Detective Seo said. “Let us wait for him for half an hour, and then we’ll leave.”

You considered kicking them out but then figured they could wait. Yunho would probably be late and they would have to go back after half an hour without anything. Plus, it didn’t look like Detective Seo was about to budge anytime soon. The other detective also looked intrigued and you gave in, allowing them to the living room though just like two decades ago, Detective Seo made a point of roaming around-

“That your room?” He pointed at the mess of books and you stifled the urge to pass a biting remark.

“Yes, I was a little busy as you can probably see. Please, take a seat.”

While you asked Detective Lee if he would like some tea, you kept an eye on the older detective who was now looking around the living room. You turned on the kettle- there was no way you were going to serve them the fancier teas you had. They would have to make do with teabags.

“How long since you moved here?”

“Is that related to your current investigation?” You asked and he scoffed.

“Come on, y/n. Don’t act like we’re strangers here. Are you still in contact with your family?”

And there it was.

“Not really,” you simply said. “I moved out for college and only visit annually.”

“How’s your mother doing?”

Your mother. Your brother. The people who destroyed you.

“She’s okay, probably,” you said. Your voice was already starting to crack, and that was not a good sign. The kettle turned off and you poured the boiling water carefully into the cups, wondering if Yunho returning early would make things better or worse.

“I moved here around that time too,” he said, taking the cup from you with thanks and after giving the other to Detective Lee, you went to stand near the kitchen, folding your arms again. “I visit a lot though. I heard your brother got into a good college.”

“Yeah, well,” you pursed your lips. “I suppose he did.”

“Do you still blame yourself for what happened back then?”

You pretended to not hear that question and asked the detective to take a seat. It was getting annoying now that he walked casually towards the kitchen, scanning the notes stuck on the fridge- Yunho’s “eat your dinner pls” that you only noticed now, your to-do list and grocery list, and the silly magnets. He made a face and placed his empty cup on the sink-

And then he spotted the knife holder.

“That’s a lot of knives,” he commented.

“I cook. A lot,” you said, wishing you had made that teabag tea for yourself too- anything to keep you from squirming. The detective looked at you suspiciously before taking his hand out of his pocket-

“Do not touch my knives, Detective,” you glared at him. “Can you please get out of the kitchen and wait in the living room?”

“I’m just looking,” he dismissed you and to your annoyance, took out one of the knives to examine, and then the other, then the other-

“I said, do not touch my knives.”

Yunho, who was standing outside the house near the kitchen window that was slightly ajar so he could hear everything, felt his heart swell in pride and admiration- he had never heard you state anything as strongly before. He contained in his sigh of relief, wondering if now was the right time to barge in.

Truth be told, he had spotted their car as soon as he entered the street and at first he thought that you had broken one of the rules and invited someone but upon a closer look, he realised with dread that the car belonged to the detectives who had just recently connected one of the cases with his clinic. He parked his bike in the garage and when he heard voices from the kitchen window, he went to eavesdrop and realised that they had just entered.

“No need to get so angry over some kitchen knives,” Detective Seo’s voice was stern. “What do you need so many for anyway? Are they yours?”

“I’m the only one who can cook,” you were seething now. “And what’s it to you?”

“Well, this one looks oddly familiar.”

“Yeah? It’s for cutting vegetables, Detective. I bet your wife owns it too- if you have one. That one’s for dicing, the one on top for fish because I feel like it remains stinky so it’s only for fish. You have a problem with that?”

Yunho stifled a smile- you were rambling now. He wondered why you didn’t simply tell them that they were his knives originally. He was positive the detectives would be connecting the dots right away and going back for an arrest warrant-

“Well, you see,” Detective Seo picked the longest knife out. “This one?”

“For meat,” you muttered.

“This one matches the murder weapon in the case we’re investigating,” he looked at you. “12 inches, dull but sharpened far too many times.”

“Yeah?” You scoffed. “So someone’s committed murder with a kitchen knife? They’re a genius.”

“How so?”

“Who doesn’t own a kitchen knife?” You almost cried. “They’re probably making a fool out of you, go back to your home and look in your kitchen. You probably have a 12 inch dull meat knife too.”

“How would you know?” Detective Lee asked this time. “That they’re making a fool out of us?”

“Why else would they use such an inconvenient weapon? Either for the thrill, or to make a fool out of you. Or both. Just… put the knife back, okay?”

“You’ve always been an odd one, and you always knew way too much,” Detective Seo put the knife back but narrowed his eyes at you. “Where were you on the 17th around midnight?”

“Around midnight, every day of every year for the past few years, I’ve been home. And I hope you go raiding everyone’s kitchen now that you know what your murder weapon looks like. Also, why are you even here? To investigate me? Again?”

“We came for Dr. Jeong-”

“You think he goes around committing murder only to operate on them later in his clinic? He’s a doctor, for Christ’s sake,” you shut your eyes, feeling a burning sensation in both your throat and eyes. “Please, leave. You can meet Dr. Jeong elsewhere- I’ll ask him to contact you.”

“And why are you getting so jittery?” Detective Seo asked. “Is there something you’re hiding again? Someone you’re protecting again? Or are you just protecting yourself-”

Yunho couldn’t take it anymore- he’d heard enough, and the whimper that left you made his vision dark for a moment. Rushing to the front door, he unlocked it and entered, shutting it a bit loudly to prove a point-

And saw you standing in the middle of the room, curling in on yourself, eyes weary. If hearing you sound like that wasn’t enough, having to look at you in this state was worse and he wished he had acted earlier. He didn’t know what took over him but he rushed to you and wrapped you in his arms-

And when you buried your face in his chest, relaxing instantly in his grasp, red hot anger ran through his veins as he assessed the detectives who stood awkwardly around him.

“How dare you make my girl cry?” He almost growled, wrapping his arms tighter, almost possessively around you. “What are you doing here?”

Detective Seo shook his head in disbelief and Detective Lee took the lead. “We came to talk to you about a few things- it’s very hard to reach you-”

“So you come barging into my house and bombard someone unrelated with questions and make her cry?” Yunho scoffed. “A phone call? Summoning me to the station? Or at least a search warrant, which I bet you don’t have, just like before. Shall I report you for misconduct?”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Detective Seo finally butted in. “Y/n and I were just catching up- we’re actually acquaintances-”

You shook your head in Yunho’s grasp to let him know that you did not want to be a part of this ‘catching up’ and Yunho patted your back.

“She says otherwise,” Yunho caressed your hair. “I don’t care if you’ve met before. You’re clearly unwanted. Please, leave. You have my number, you can contact me later, but do not make the mistake of coming here again. And do not try to make contact with her again.”

Shrugging, the detectives left, Detective Lee muttering a silent apology on behalf of them both. When you heard the doors sound shut, you tried getting out of Yunho’s grasp to let him know he didn’t need to do that anymore-

But he only deepened the hug, leaning down this time to hold you better and you sighed at that. He rocked you gently back and forth, all the while caressing your head gently as if he meant to lull you to some calm space- and oh, was he successful. You were no longer crying.

Hesitantly, he broke away a bit to see if you were okay. Your eyes fluttered open, a bit red from crying and he cupped your face, wiping your tears.

“Why did you let them in, y/n?”

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay,” he assured you. “Did they force themselves inside?”

“Not really, but they were insisting on coming inside and waiting,” you sniffed. “Detective Seo- the older one… he knows me from when I was a kid and he started to get a bit too comfortable-”

“I know,” he told you and when you frowned in confusion, he said, “I actually heard a bit of it while I was parking.”

“A bit?”

“Most of it,” he admitted, breaking into a smile. “You did not have to defend my kitchen knives with all your might, y/n.”

You chuckled at that. “I don’t know, I got so angry! He kept walking around and it was annoying me so much- I thought giving him tea would make him sit, but no, he had to walk around with a cup in his hand-”

Yunho shook with laughter, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re too adorable at times.”

“And… I can’t believe I’m hearing the word adorable come out of your mouth,” you looked at him in disbelief. “Who are you? And where is Dr. Jeong?”

“It’s just Yunho,” he smiled and you smiled back, spending a moment just looking at him and realising that you were still way too close, in his arms, your heart fluttering uncontrollably.

“Well… just Yunho,” you said, your hands on his waist feeling clammy. “Thank you for coming at the right time. And thank you for… what you did.”

Yunho took a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

You pursed your lips, looking away. You could not answer that, because even if you lied to him, you would break down anyway. Detective Seo had opened the dam of unwanted, ugly memories and you were definitely not okay. You wouldn’t be for a while now-

But it looked like Yunho had made it his life’s mission to make sure you would feel okay. He brought you back in a hug and this time, you didn’t cry. You simply wrapped your arms around his waist better and listened to the sound of his heartbeat which somehow calmed you. To your surprise, he planted a kiss on the top of your head before he squeezed you in assurance.

You broke away to look at him. “What’s got you so… clingy and fluffy all of a sudden? Not that I don’t like it, but…”

Yunho tucked your hair away from your face, kissing your forehead this time and pretending he hadn’t heard that. It wasn’t the first time he got a closer look at you yet he committed everything to memory as if it was his first time seeing you. He couldn’t answer your question either, because…

He was pretty sure he had fallen for you a little when he heard you earlier. The way you never let the detectives think about him for even a second when you were being cornered with the knives- he was absolutely sure that you had not done that unintentionally. Sure, he had initially thought that if he ever got in trouble with the police, you could make a good cover, but now you had protected him on purpose. He would ask you about that, but first…

“Did you eat dinner?”

“Uh… no. I forgot.”

Yunho shook his head in disappointment. “I go away for one meal and you forget to eat.”

You pouted and he led you to the chair, making you sit. He poured a glass of water for you and after you drank it, he asked if you made something today. You told him you didn’t cook today and he sighed.

“So you only cook for me?”

“I like cooking… and I like cooking for you,” you pouted again, feeling exposed.

“But not cooking for yourself?” Yunho asked, making you look at him. “Why won’t you cook for yourself?”

You shrugged. You didn’t have an answer for that.

“Well, I’m not a good cook, but I’ll see what I can do…” he got up and you told him he did not have to, that what he did for you tonight was enough, but he told you to shut up and opened the fridge, taking out the kimchi and then looking through the cabinets-

“Ramyeon sounds good? That’s one thing I can cook well,” he grinned.

You nodded, getting comfortable and watching him roll his sleeves before he washed his hands in the sink, drying them with the blue bunny towel and then you stopped noticing what he was doing and instead noticed the veins on his arms, the faded scar near the elbow that probably ran up his upper arm, his broad shoulders and narrow waist, the dark hair that curled at the nape of his neck-

And those beautiful, beautiful hands that were now setting the pot on the table. You blinked, coming back to reality, and thanked him for the meal. He watched you eat for a few moments before he said, “I’m sorry you had to go through what you did today. It’s my fault.”

“Yunho,” you sighed, “It’s not.”

“It is,” he shook his head. “The detectives seemed to have created some ambiguous connection between me and their recent murder case. The victim used to be my patient, so they’ve been trying to visit me for a while but I kept putting it off- I really don’t like when they visit my workplace-”

“Of course,” you nodded. “No one would like that. You don’t have to explain it to me, Yunho. You don’t have to tell me anything-”

“Forget the rules,” he clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I want to explain because you can’t just put yourself between me and the detectives. How could you try to protect me without knowing what’s going on? And don’t try to deny that you weren’t doing exactly that.”

You took a bite and thought about it while you chewed. Once you swallowed, you answered. “I’ve known Detective Seo for twenty years. I’ve known you for what? Four months? Five? Guess who I trust more out of the two.”

Yunho looked away, somewhat in disbelief but again, overwhelmed by the way his heart was fluttering and his stomach was in knots. “Even when I’ve given you nothing?”

“It’s enough- I don’t need to hear your life story to trust you,” you finished eating the noodles. “I know who you are, and that’s enough.”

Yunho sighed internally- Wooyoung had warned him of this. He had practically manifested it. He had told Yunho that the way he talked about you and the way he treated you were very different and he needed to start manning up and ignoring whatever he was feeling inside. That had been in the earlier months. And now?

You claimed you knew him. What did you know, really? The person who set strict rules and got angry when he thought you broke one of them and made you cry? The doctor who got angry at you for bringing a patient to his clinic and later thanking you because you saved her from something worse? The person who took you to the place he loved yet told you nothing about it? What did you really know-

“I know you,” you began and Yunho wondered if he had said those thoughts out loud. “You’re the person who I thought was an asshole but I trusted because you… you have the kindest eyes. Even when you almost stabbed me to death-”

“That’s on you overthinking-”

“Yeah, I’m joking,” you laughed. “But… you get what I mean. I don’t need to know who you were, I know who you are. The doctor who’s too busy to take care of himself and his space. The person who’s everyone’s favourite at the clinic. The house owner who’s actually quite funny but takes a while to open up. The friend who helps me with my work in so many more ways than he realises. And… the man who is surprisingly protective and caring.”

Yunho buried his face in his hands- he couldn’t look at you now. He couldn’t-

“I don’t know why you keep holding yourself back, but can I ask what prompted you to do whatever you did earlier? You didn’t have to hug me like that,” you drank the rest of the water in the glass, waiting but he didn’t look at you. “You didn’t have to call me ‘your girl’ and shoo them away. You can’t just do things like that and expect me to remain normal and pretend it didn’t happen the next day- because I’ve had enough too. I’ve had enough of you staring at me like I’m either someone you want to kill or someone you want to… do things to. Also, while we’re talking about that- and yes, I’m rambing, but you really need to stop touching me so casually- I hope you have a rule about that somewhere too-”

Yunho finally removed his hands from his face and locked eyes with you. When you didn’t look away, wondering if you were going to regret this, he got up, making your heart sink thinking you really had made an awful mistake this time-

And then he leaned down towards you and to your utter surprise, he pecked your lips gently- once, twice. And then he pulled away to lock eyes with your wide ones.

“Can I take responsibility then? For my actions?”

When you nodded without realising that you had, he smiled, going around the table and sinking down to his knees. For you. You found your hands moving of their own accord, cupping his face with almost trembling hands for the first time and running a hand through his hair, finding them softer than you had imagined. You laughed in disbelief and knelt down to kiss his forehead- you didn’t have to kneel down much thanks to him being so tall. You joined your foreheads and just let that moment sink in, waiting for him to do something but it was as if he had completely submitted himself to you.

“Yunho,” you breathed, “Won’t you kiss me?”

All Yunho wanted was to obey. He tilted his head, your lips brushing and then he brought his hands to your bare knees, sending shivers through your entire being. While he caressed the skin, he pecked your lips cautiously and you almost cried at how hesitant he was. You took it upon yourself to lock your lips with his and that was all he needed to kiss you back, immediately taking lead and kissing you almost desperately as if he had waited a lifetime for this moment. You moved your lips along his, settling in a comfortable rhythm and you realised you quite liked the position-

But Yunho had other plans. He broke apart, gripping your legs in one arm and getting up, making you latch on to him with a squeal which earned a laugh from him as he settled you on the empty kitchen counter, now able to meet your eyes better. He stared at you intently for a few moments, his arms caging you between them and brought your arms to rest on his shoulders, linking them around his neck.

“I’d say something about how it took you way too long,” you kissed the tip of his nose. “But I’m afraid you’ll think I’ve always fantasised about this and leave me here and go in your cave.”

“Never again,” he promised, capturing your lips in a slow and gentle kiss. You had all the time in the world now and a morbid part of your mind wanted to thank Detective Seo for paying a visit tonight even though you despised him. Yunho swiped his tongue across your lips and you gladly opened up for him, the kiss getting heated as his tongue explored your mouth, clashing with your tongue. You couldn’t help but marvel how you both fit with each other so well.

You didn’t know how long you made out like that. Neither did you care, but naturally, you both broke apart and shared a giggle. He opened his arms for you and you gladly hugged him- his hugs were probably your most favourite thing about life now. He laughed at how you wrapped yourself around him like a cat so that he didn’t even have to hold you, simply wrap his arms around your back as he walked to the living room but you muttered ‘my room’ and he obeyed, walking in that direction-

And halting.

“What do you want me to do? Throw you in the pool of books and make out? Might hurt a little…”

“Oh, goodness,” you twisted in his arms to see the mess that your room was in right now. “I was sorting out books because I really have no space anymore and I was going to give away some tonight-”

“But you could put them in the living room? The shelves have some space?”

You hadn’t even considered that. You looked at him. “Can I use that space?”

“I mean… you’ve taken over the whole floor anyway,” he shrugged. “What harm a few books are gonna do?”

You smacked his arm and he laughed, putting you down on the floor. “Well, I should clean my mess then. Don’t want you complaining about how unruly your housemate is.”

“I’ll help,” he insisted and you scoffed.

“There’s no space for you to set a foot-”

“Then make some.”

“Oh?” You shot him a dirty look. “No plans to leave?”

“Do you want me to leave?” He asked cockily and you shook your head, immediately shoving a few books away and making space on the rug where he settled down and pulled you down in his lap, snuggling his face in your neck.

“Tell me about these books,” he muttered, his breath caressing your neck and before you could comment on the position, he kissed your neck lazily.

Well… perhaps it was better to shut up and obey.

“They are a part of me,” you smiled, picking the nearest one and reading the title while he continued kissing and sucking at your neck. “This one I read recently. I think you’ll like it- it’s about doctors- ah.”

Yunho smiled against your neck when you squirmed in his grasp. He had been teasing your sweet spot for far too long now and finally got to hear your pretty moan. “Really? What’s it about?”

“Doctors,” you muttered, tilting your neck and he dived back in. “And the problems they face, the power dynamics- Jeong Yunho, I swear to god-”

Yunho laughed deeply against your skin, drawing away to observe the reddening spot. You tried shifting in his grasp but he held you in your position. “Tell me about another book.”

“Yeah?” You scoffed when he started peppering kisses along your shoulders. “What if I just smack you on the head with one?”

“Tsk, tsk. Already?”

You shifted in his lap successfully this time and before you could yell at him, he was kissing you on the lips again and as you melted in his hold, you tossed the book in your hand away to cup his face.

Sorting the books and cleaning the mess could definitely wait.

—-----------------------------

Though you and Yunho had crossed some obvious boundaries now, you were unsure how that would affect the rules of living in his house. You weren’t only his housemate now, so perhaps, the rules could change?

You started wondering about that after a few days. You hadn’t made anything official yet- he was still working a lot and barely had any time for himself but whenever he got home, he would find you and wrap you in his arms while he asked you about your day. When you asked him the same, he would simply smile and say something like ‘just the usual’ or ‘busy day today’.

Nothing more. He probably recognised the look in your eyes- the look that said that you wanted more. Perhaps he ignored it on purpose. Perhaps, whenever he kissed you after, it was to make up for the lack of an answer.

If you thought about it objectively… you didn’t really mind. Work is work- what could doctors really share about their work? But you knew he wasn’t simply going to work, especially when he sometimes came home looking like he had been running for miles or with blood on his clothes. Surely, doctors wore a gown or something while operating or handling patients. His lab coat never had blood on it, so why would he have blood on his clothes and why would he sometimes look like he got in a fight? He could definitely feel your apprehension even though you pretended to be okay about it.

Perhaps, he liked you because you didn’t ask. That didn’t mean you weren’t curious- now more so than ever. It wasn’t like being whatever you were to him now gave you any right to probe, but you couldn’t help pay a visit to his clinic tonight and see if he was really working a night shift- he had gone out in a rush earlier muttering something about an emergency. You only went to make sure he was okay, was what you told yourself-

It was certainly not because of your growing suspicion of what he really did. Nor was it because you wanted to double-check how Detective Seo told you that Yunho’s clinic had separate staff for night shifts and he definitely didn’t need to be present every night. It definitely wasn’t because Yeosang slipped when he accidentally told you Yunho had no shift a few nights ago when Yunho himself had told you he had one. And it definitely was not how you suddenly realised one day while writing your novel that Yunho’s answers to your odd questions were a bit too specific- like when you asked him about being stabbed in a certain location with a certain weapon and he slept on it and had a rather specific answer the next day. His answers were always a bit too detailed.

You would have ignored all of it but you found yourself inside the clinic and learned from the kind lady at the reception who thought it was cute that you came to check on him that Yunho only had one night shift a week. But according to what he told you, he had night shifts five days a week.

Just what was he doing?

You absently walked home and instead of writing, you just mindlessly cleaned the nooks and crannies in the living room, your mind too numb to think of possibilities. Perhaps, you needed to start defining things with Yunho- beginning with what your relationship was, exactly, and if it was more than housemates you both definitely needed to talk about a few things-

When you heard the door unlock, you looked at the time- it was almost 4 in the morning. You hadn’t realised how quickly time passed. Yunho entered, looking pretty much the same as he did when he left. You managed a smile and he told you he would be right back, rushing upstairs. You went to wash your hands in the meantime, wondering if you should ask him- would he be angry to learn you went out looking for him? Would he appreciate your concern, or would he shut himself away like he has always done-

“Y/n?” Yunho’s voice brought you back to your senses and you realised you had been zoning out in front of the sink, the tap still running water. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired,” you told him, drying your hands and going towards the kitchen to get yourself water. You needed to get a grip.

“You don’t look okay,” Yunho’s brows were furrowed in concern. “Did something happen while I was away?”

“I promise I’m fine,” you said, though you were sure your smile was still unconvincing- or maybe Yunho was just too good at looking right through you. “How was your night shift? Did you get a lot of patients tonight?”

“It was okay,” Yunho exhaled deeply. “A few. Not too busy.”

You nodded slowly. For a moment, you wondered if he was doing night shifts in a different workplace. Perhaps, he had never lied and you just hadn’t figured out that he had jobs at two different places-

“You’re staring,” Yunho commented, tilting his head in thought. You broke eye contact, scanning his clothes- as neat as when he left for ‘work’. “You didn’t meet Detective Seo, did you?”

“No, why?”

“That’s the only time I’ve seen you look like this. Come on, you’re making me worried,” Yunho took a step closer, tucking your hair behind your ear. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid,” you laughed, deciding to tackle at least one thing tonight. “You’ll make fun of me or you'll shut yourself in your cave.”

“You need to stop calling it a cave,” Yunho laughed a bit.

“Until I see it, it’s a cave to me,” you shrugged. “Who knows what you do there?”

“You want to see it?” He asked, absently caressing your cheekbone and your eyes widened.

“That… is not what I meant- I’m curious, yes, but I don’t want to invite myself up there.”

“Well,” Yunho put his hands on your shoulders. “It looks horrible right now- it’s messy and if I bring you upstairs, you’ll forget you’re tired and start cleaning the mess. Some other day?”

“Whenever is okay, it’s probably boring and plain,” you said dismissively and he nodded in satisfaction.

“Then what is really weighing on your mind?”

“Shit, I thought you forgot about it,” you muttered but he wasn’t going to let you go. His grip on your shoulders tightened a fraction. “Look, I’m not trying to be that person and I really, really don’t mind how we are and what we are-”

“Get to the point-”

“What are we?”

Yunho blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“What are we?” You sighed. “I love what we are. I don’t mind it one bit, but I feel like we’re still housemates and there’s still this wall between us and if that’s how things should be… I can work with that. I just… I wish there wasn’t such ambiguity- stop grinning like an idiot, will you?”

“Well,” Yunho stifled another grin. “What do you think we are?”

“I don’t know,” you pouted. “That’s what I’m asking.”

“I don’t know,” Yunho shrugged, straightening and bringing you closer so you were almost flush against him. “I don’t think we’d be doing this if we were ‘just housemates’.”

“My point exactly,” you muttered. “I’m confused. What rules still apply? Can I interfere in your personal life? Can I ask you more than I should? There’s still so much I don’t know about you and sometimes I feel like you’re miles away, Yunho.”

Yunho’s heart ached- he wanted nothing more than to bare his entire soul in front of you. He had considered that seriously over the past few days. He was pretty sure if anyone in this world would understand his reasons for what he did and still want to be with him, it would be you, but what if he was wrong about you? What if he had signed himself to an inevitable heartbreak? If so, how could he ever recover?

“I’m right here,” Yunho kissed your forehead. “You can ask me anything but can I answer at my pace?”

That was enough. You nodded and he smiled, pecking your lips. “Thank you.”

“I’ll wait for you,” you told him. “And I know you’re curious about a few things too- you can ask me anything and I’ll answer at my own pace. Okay?”

Yunho couldn’t help it- he cupped your face and kissed you, wondering how you were so perfect. How could you trust him like this? He sometimes wondered if he was dreaming- there was no way you were real. And he told you that every day, just like he did now, and just like always, you smacked his arm as you blushed.

“You should tell me something else- I’m kind of tired of hearing that,” you laughed.

“Nothing else makes you laugh like this,” Yunho kissed you again, lingering. “You know I love it when you laugh.”

You kissed him back, forgetting all your worries and you felt the exhaustion wash away from your bones as he bent down to pick you up so he could kiss you better. You wrapped your arms around his neck and let him take you to the living room- to the couch which was probably your favourite place in this house now, where Yunho and you would spend hours with each other.

As he settled you down on the couch, he broke apart and locked eyes with you. “Well, do you still think we’re just housemates?”

“God, you really got stuck on that one, huh?” You poked his chest. “Okay. You’re what? My boyfriend?”

Yunho’s lips parted and a smile crawled on his lips. “I kind of like the sound of that.”

“Geez, have you never been in a relationship,” you teased and he laughed out loud.

“Just not like this one, no,” he traced your lips with his thumb. “You’re… different.”

“Bet you told that to everyone before me,” you scoffed and he pecked your lips to shut you up. You smiled into the kiss, your hands wandering down his chest and stopping at his hips, snaking up his shirt on his bare skin which earned a light groan from him. You instinctively squeezed his side-

And he stopped kissing you right then. You wondered if you had done something wrong and when you drew apart, you realised he looked as if he was in pain. You frowned, your hands still there while Yunho stifled another groan and when you pressed on both his sides, he finally exhaled-

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” You whispered, drawing his shirt up without permission and gasping when you saw a big red bruise on his right side as if he had been punched.

“Y/n,” Yunho called in warning but you weren’t having any of it anymore- you pulled his shirt up and if Yunho hadn’t been bracing himself up on either sides of you to keep himself from falling on top of you, he would have stopped you, but now you were staring at his upper body in horror and worry.

You let go of the shirt and it fell down to cover his secrets. You looked at Yunho who couldn’t meet your eyes. “Won’t you let me help you? Won’t you let me take care of you?”

Yunho simply sighed, wondering what to do, what to say. He knew this day would come eventually but he hadn’t imagined it to be like this. He let you gently push him back on the couch and without a word, you went to your room. He slumped down, rubbing his face-

Of all the days, it had to be today. Had to be tonight when he made a mistake and hurt himself. You reappeared out of your room with a medical kit and settled down next to him.

“You’re the doctor, Yunho,” you said and showed him the ointments and medicines in the kit, noticing a number of scars on his body and finally getting a good look at the scar that ran up his arm all the way to the middle of his upper arm. “Tell me how to take care of you.”

Yunho passed you a look, finding the lack of expressions on your face kind of disturbing. Just what were you thinking? He sighed and took out the ointment for the bruise- one he had in his room as well and would have used had he not been distracted by you. You nodded and took the ointment, spreading it along his bruise and gently rubbing it in. Once done, you got up and inspected the rest of his upper body.

“Are you sure that’s the only place you’re hurt?”

“Yep,” he assured you. “You can relax now.”

You scoffed at that, putting the kit aside and folding your arms as you looked at him. “Look… If you don’t want me to, I won’t ask, but you’re not just a doctor. I’m right about that, aren’t I?”

When he didn’t respond, you understood. You were right, and he probably couldn’t say anything. “Do you trust me, Yunho?”

“Y/n, it’s not about trust-”

“Just tell me- do you trust me?”

He locked eyes with you. “Of course I do. If I didn’t… I would have kicked you out long ago, y/n, and I would have never....”

That seemed to satisfy you and when he found the faintest hint of a smile on your lips, he finally relaxed a bit. “I trust you, but there are things I cannot tell you- not right now.”

“I know,” you nodded. “You can stop lying about your night shifts- just say you’re going somewhere. I won’t ask until you tell me.”

Yunho blinked in surprise- just how long ago had you figured him out?

“Also… I would appreciate it if the next time you get hurt, you let me know instead of surprising me like this.”

“Do you… know something you’re not telling me, y/n?”

You smiled at Yunho. If he wasn’t so genuine with his words and his feelings, you would have demanded answers, but what you had with him was special in its own way. No questions asked wasn’t such a bad rule- because you knew that when he answered your questions, you would have to answer his too.

“Do I? I don’t know,” you shrugged. “But I have a feeling that you and I aren’t so different, Yunho.”

Yunho wished he could tell you who he was- his friends insisted he was not a ‘murderer’ like he would often call himself but a vigilante. A hero to most, an enemy to the others- especially the police who had been on his tail for a while now. How could you possibly be the same as him? He had killed people with his own hands, and though it could be argued that he only killed the worst of criminals, if Hongjoong hadn’t been there the night his parents were killed, he could very well be in prison for attempted murder or worse.

All these years, as he killed one corrupted individual after another, he was convinced that he was the one who was truly corrupted inside. He was the one who needed to meet the fate that anyone who encountered him did. His friends, especially Hongjoong, were aware that there was a twisted part inside him that took joy in the simple act of killing people- people who stole from others. Stole their loved ones, their life, their hard work. You couldn’t possibly be as bad as him, could you? There was absolutely no way-

“Stop thinking so much,” you whispered, placing your hand on his and he immediately shifted so he was holding your hand, squeezing it as if he needed some assurance. “I just want you to be careful, okay? Whatever you do… stay safe, will you?”

“How can you trust me so blindly?” Yunho asked.

“I told you, right?” You smiled. “I know who you are- at least to me. That’s enough for me.”

Yunho smiled back, burying his face in the crook of your neck and you wrapped your arm around his bare shoulders, burying your hand in his hair and caressing them gently. You let go of Yunho’s hand only to trace the long scar on his arm, wishing you could ask how he got it but you would wait. You kissed his temple and he sighed, nuzzling against you.

“I’m afraid…” Yunho confessed in a voice so small you were wondering if you were hearing things. “I’m afraid you’ll run away when you learn who I am.”

Your heart sank at his words. He was just like you. In all your previous relationships, you made people run away from you. You could never give them what you wanted. They would find you too secretive or too accepting. Little did they know that you were only hiding your ugly past and trying your best not to let it interfere with your life.

“You couldn’t possibly be worse than me,” you told him and that prompted him to lift his head to look at you. “I’m convinced I’m a monster. Could you love a monster, Yunho?”

Yunho took in your blank gaze as you said those words and he realised that perhaps, you were right. Perhaps, you were just like him too, with some twisted part inside you, something that had you convinced that you were a monster.

And if that was the case… he could love you. He wanted nothing more than to love you and tell you that you made him feel human even at his worst, so he leaned forward to kiss you slowly, letting you know what he felt through the way he held your waist and brought you on top of him, through the way he held you so close to him and sighed when you wrapped your arms around his, through the way he started trailing kisses everywhere on your skin. And when you gave him more, he accepted it. If that was the last time you would ever look at him and not feel horrified, he was going to make sure he made you feel loved so he forgot about all his worries and smiled at you playfully, beyond relieved when you bit your lips in excitement.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Yunho whispered, sucking at your neck- he had a thing for that certain spot, you had realised now.

“We haven’t even begun, though,” you commented and Yunho paused, considering your words. He experimentally snaked his hand up your thigh and when you only kissed his temple in response, he understood.

An invitation.

“Shall we take this to bed, then?”

You nodded, sharing an open-mouthed kiss before he got up and started going towards your room.

If only he knew that your invitation was for the same reasons as his.

—---------------------------

For all your talk about trust, you sure were walking on the fine line that marked trust from betrayal.

And if things hadn’t turned out the way they had been turning out for the past two weeks, you would have never been here. You scoffed internally as you took another turn into a dark alley, a safe distance behind Yunho so he wouldn’t notice your presence- anything to convince yourself that you were only doing this to make sure he would be safe. To make sure he wouldn’t hurt himself again-

Because you had a gut feeling that something was going to happen tonight, and your gut was never, ever wrong. Your gut had saved (or doomed, it could be argued) you two decades ago. You could trust yourself with that.

Though, again, that was debatable as well. Was it your gut that had you all nervous and hypervigilant or was it the growing suspicions about Yunho?

Because a few days ago, Detective Seo called you and requested that you visit the station. You would have ignored him had he not been so polite for once. Ultimately, the reason you visited him was because you wanted to clear his suspicions of you and get him off your tail- you had finally settled in this town at peace and you couldn’t have the detective ruining that.

And also, a small part of you wanted to learn more about why he suspected Yunho.

You discovered during your visit that you were right- your involvement in his investigation of Yunho made him suspicious of you. You learned that the reason he was so intent on having Yunho come to the station and give a proper statement was because a few of his alibis no longer held any validity- he had said something about a night shift when he had none. The detective didn’t like how the doctors and a few of the staff members around him were so uncooperative and secretive. If that wasn’t enough, the detective was still curious about the 12-inch knife in your kitchen.

He joked about how he or his colleagues didn’t own a 12-inch meat knife at home- apparently a non-professional one was usually 7 to 10 inches long. You told him that it was irrelevant but when he mentioned how his suspect had stopped using kitchen knives a few months ago and switched to a dagger of a unique built, it had you wondering-

The detective didn’t know those knives actually belonged to Yunho, which was why he was also suspecting you now. What if you told him? What if the timing of the change of the murder weapon matched?

You only asked the detective if he really believed you were capable of wielding daggers and he shook his head in denial. You then asked if he really thought the surgeon could be a suspect in his case.

“I can’t tell you what it is, but we have substantial evidence to keep an eye on him, at least. If it’s him, he’s not alone.”

And that’s what got you thinking if you were wrong about who Yunho and his friends were. Especially when only a couple days later you went to visit them at the clinic with some fresh cookies and you got a peek at the register at reception that had a schedule of all doctors and you learned that Yunho had no night shift for the rest of the week-

Only to find him lying about it and hearing the news about the murder of a renowned politician while he was god knows where.

You didn’t ask Yunho why he lied about the night shift because he had agreed not to make up that excuse again. You casually confirmed with Wooyoung if he had really been at the clinic that night and he told you he had, but you weren’t done there. You double-checked with the young girl at reception in the clinic- she was quite a fan of your cookies and now that she knew you and Yunho were close, she willingly confirmed that Yunho had indeed not been at the clinic that night. Neither had any of his friends.

You wished you could simply confront Yunho and ask but he was still hesitant. And really, you would have let everything be. You would have waited for him, but tonight?

Tonight he told you he was going to the clinic to meet up with Wooyoung and give him some company during his boring night shift. Pretty believable, but your gut twisted as soon as he stepped out and you knew that you just had to make sure that he was going to the clinic. You covered yourself with a jacket and scarf, grabbed the keys and wore your shoes-

Changing your mind and going to the kitchen to grab a little something before finally stepping out.

And that’s how you got here, one bus ride and a good walk later, deep in some abandoned part of the town following Yunho through the alleys until he stopped abruptly, making you take a few steps back and hide yourself in a corner. Strangely, Yunho seemed to be inspecting the area. What for, you didn’t know. He looked around and checked if the gate at the end of the alley was really locked. After thorough inspection which made you wonder if he was looking for someone or something, he started walking in your direction, probably to leave. You discreetly slid down and away so he would cross you without looking in your direction, and thankfully, he did.

You sighed, wondering if tonight had been a waste in which case your guilty conscience wouldn’t let you sleep for a good few days unless you came clean to Yunho. You were just following him back because you were pretty sure you would get lost otherwise when you spotted another man at the opposite end of the street. Instinctively, you hid again and waited for the man to continue along that street and get out of your way-

Except he turned in the street in Yunho’s direction.

You made a face and decided to fall behind the two- surely the man would be on his own way soon, except there was something odd about the way he was walking-

He was walking just like you had been- short, quick and silent steps, a good distance behind Yunho to avoid encountering him. Was he following Yunho too? How did he know Yunho would be here? Had he seen you- did he know you were here? It was too dark to make out who he was.

The two turned to another street and the man kept following him even after the crossroads, confirming your suspicions that Yunho was being followed. Perhaps, Yunho had been waiting for this man when he had been looking around the alley-

A sharp glint near the man’s thigh caught your attention and with a sinking heart, you realised-

The man was wielding a weapon. Something sharp that looked an awful lot like the very knife you had hidden inside your jacket.

You froze for a few moments that you knew would cost you something. There was just too much to consider- the feeling of impending doom, the worry for Yunho’s life, the fight-or-flight response making its way to control your future actions and worst of all, the feeling that you were back where you had been when you were still a child trying to protect your father from a situation just like this.

And as the man’s pace quickened and the distance between him and Yunho got shorter, you let the child that had murdered a grown man to protect a loved one take over. Just like that night, you raised your knife in the air without realising when you actually took it out of your jacket. And just like that time, you found yourself running towards the man- this time, experienced and calculating. You would have to congratulate yourself for being so certain about what you were doing-

“Yunho, watch out!”

Though Yunho recognised your voice immediately, the fear in your voice was unfamiliar and he turned around with dread pooling in his nerves, his eyes widening as he tried to process an unfamiliar face of a man with a weapon aimed at him- way too close- and then your figure, perhaps as unfamiliar this time, running towards the man. Yunho instinctively dodged the attack and before he could react further, you collided with the man, crashing on the floor with grunts.

Every nerve in your body screamed as you both clawed at each other while trying not to hurt yourselves, getting nicked here and there and before the man could actually think and overpower you, you buried the length of your knife between his collarbones, effectively disarming him and the man’s eyes widened as he whimpered in pain-

No.

“Y/n,” Yunho almost cried as he sank down next to you, spotting the horror in your eyes and in that moment, he knew only one thing- that he couldn’t let you burden yourself with having to live with blood on your hands. He inspected the stab on the man’s neck, sucking in his breath when he realised the knife in your hand was from your kitchen- the same damned knife he had spilled blood with. The man coughed blood and your grip on the knife finally loosened as you realised just what you had done.

While you remained frozen in your spot, Yunho realised that the man was beyond help though with the current position of the knife in his throat, he was going to bleed to death for a long while before he could let go. So Yunho made a decision and gently unwrapped your hands from the knife, squeezing them to make you look at him.

“Y/n? Are you with me?”

His voice felt miles away, drowned by the ringing in your ears and you could only blink. Yunho took a deep, shaky breath. “Do you trust me?”

You didn’t know how long you stared at him but he gently shook your shoulder, making you crawl away from the shivering body of the man. “Y/n, do you trust me?”

This time, you did hear him and you nodded slowly, still in a trance. “Yunho- save him, please-”

Yunho had his answer. He slid the knife out of the spot between his collarbones only to stab him on another spot in his neck not far from the original and you watched in horror as the man groaned once before falling limp. Yunho put a hand over the wounds as if that could possibly stop the bleeding and then he asked you to take off your scarf. You weren’t sure you heard him right but with his free hand he started to unwind the scarf from around your neck. You didn’t make any effort to help him- you simply watched him wrap your scarf around his neck to stop further bleeding-

“He’s dead,” you practically spat out. “Why do you need to stop the bleeding now?”

Yunho didn’t answer. Once his hands were free, he bent down to pick the man and started walking back to the alley, stopping when he realised you weren’t following him. He turned to look at you, eyes void of emotions. “Aren’t you going to come?”

You got up with immense struggle, looking around- why was there no one to help? Why was this abandoned area so empty in the middle of the night? You grabbed the man’s knife and started following Yunho, your hands and legs shaking uncontrollably and each step got harder to take. When you reached the spot Yunho had checked out earlier, he laid the man’s body down and you finally sank to the floor, drawing your knees to your chest and trying to breathe. You could hear him talking into the phone to someone, giving them the address.

All you knew was that you had killed someone. Again. And this time, your father wasn’t there to protect you and take the blame. This time, you weren’t a child who needed such protection. You were an adult and you had killed-

You felt arms wrap around your figure and you finally let out a shaky sob though your eyes remained dry. Yunho rubbed your back and asked you to breathe with him, drawing away and rubbing your cold hands in his to share some warmth- though his were just as cold. You could only see the blood on your hands, on your clothes-

“Y/n, listen to me carefully,” his deep voice echoed inside you. “You didn’t kill the man, okay?”

“You’re lying,” your teeth were chattering with cold and fear now. “I killed him.”

“No,” Yunho shook his head. “You protected me. I killed him.”

“You can’t do this to me, not you too,” you finally cried. “Not you too. I killed again, and this time, I’ll take responsibility.”

Yunho took a moment to process what you had said as he scanned your figure- everything finally started to make sense though there was still so much he needed answers to. “Listen to me. You didn’t deliver the killing blow. I did. I’m the one who killed him.”

“You and I both know he would have died anyway,” you locked eyes with him and Yunho knew then that it was no use trying to convince you that you weren’t to blame. “You just made it easier for him.”

Yunho didn’t respond to that. He simply kept rubbing your hands as if that could turn back time and make things right. When you heard the sound of footsteps, you got tense and almost panicked but Yunho assured you it was just his friends and everything would be okay soon. You watched Wooyoung and Mingi assess the situation, not reacting much and numbly, you let Wooyoung accompany you to his car. You kept looking for Yunho though and Wooyoung smiled a bit despite the situation, assuring you that he would be right there.

While on your way, Wooyoung made sure you were warm and made you eat a few bites of chocolate, telling you you would need it. You asked him how he was so calm right now- was it not his first time that something like this happened?

“Something tells me it’s not your first time either, y/n,” he simply responded and you fell silent after that.

You shut your eyes and let your mind wander about what was going to happen next. Sure, you felt a sense of security being around Yunho- he had done something you could never have imagined- but there was still a small part of you thinking about how this was the end for you. You were going to go to prison. Perhaps you would meet the same fate as your father. Your mother and brother would certainly be pleased to see you behind bars. You could hear their laughter and the ‘I told you so’ even now-

“Y/n?” Yunho’s gentle voice made you open your eyes. “We’re here.”

You looked at ‘here’ which was another abandoned area with dimly lit streets and a warehouse which Hongjoong was unlocking the doors of. Yunho helped you out of the car- you definitely needed that since your legs were still wobbly. You noticed that not everyone made it back and you asked him where they were.

“They’re taking a detour- they’ll be here in a few minutes.”

You nodded and followed him inside and if the circumstances would have been different, you could have appreciated how well organised the inside of the warehouse was, looking like a home with couches and games and fridge and enough space to do anything and everything. It looked like a hideout and you smiled faintly before sitting on the couch. Hongjoong brought you beer and you gladly accepted, taking a few gulps and letting Wooyoung wrap a blanket around you, letting Yunho clean the blood off your hands and spotting the cuts littering your hands and arms. Now that there was enough light, he could spot the numbness in your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, suddenly breaking out of your trance. “Are you? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m okay,” he breathed. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m good, I…” you looked at your scarred hands. “I’m… okay.”

“Y/n,” Yunho took your hands in his again and you met his worried eyes. “How did you know? Why did you follow me?”

“I… I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” you sighed and he squeezed your hands. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright, but I need to know what happened tonight so I can help you, okay?” Yunho said and you nodded, straightening.

“I knew you had no night shift today- I saw in the register by chance,” you told him and he nodded. “So when you said you were going, I knew you were lying. I would have let you go, trust me, but… I had a feeling something was about to happen. Or maybe… maybe I was just too suspicious- because Detective Seo said if it was you, you weren’t alone-”

“You met Detective Seo again?” He asked, his tone still gentle but you spotted Seonghwa looking at you apprehensively. “Why?”

“He called me to the station a few days ago because he was suspicious of me- the knives,” you let out a nervous laugh and Yunho nodded, understanding. “He told me his suspect’s murder weapon and method had changed and the timing was just a bit off. He knew it couldn’t be me but we have history so he just needed to make sure.”

“Did you tell him about Yunho- or anything?” Seonghwa asked.

Yunho gently warned Seonghwa but you told him it was okay. “He doesn’t know the knives belong to Yunho and he is just suspecting him because apparently your alibis are invalid now. That’s all he’s got on you, actually.”

They all sighed in relief and you heard the doors open, the rest of them joining you and exchanging drinks. “You’re all oddly calm about all of this.”

“We’re doctors,” Yeosang commented. “We have to be calm at times like this.”

“You’re oddly calm too,” San noticed.

“That’s what I said,” Wooyoung quipped in and Yunho asked you if the boys were overwhelming you but you shook your head no.

“Can you tell me what happened next? Why did you follow me?”

You took a deep breath. “I said Detective Seo and I have history. When I was little… about two decades ago, I… we lived in a small town, the four of us. My father was in debt and he often had to run away from gangsters and loan sharks. One day, he got cornered by one of the men and he had a gun- he looked like he was about to shoot my dad. My mom was protecting us- me and my brother, but I… I did what I could to protect him. I went to the kitchen, grabbed the first knife I saw and stabbed that man multiple times in the back.”

“Oh, y/n,” Yunho’s voice sounded pained and you heard a chorus of sucked breaths and exhales. Your hands started trembling again and Yunho squeezed them, planting a kiss to your knuckles which just made tears pool in your eyes.

“I did that to protect him,” your voice was just as shaky as your hands now. “That man died and my father ended up taking all the blame to protect me from the police. Detective Seo was in charge of that case and he always suspected me- especially because my mother and brother started hating me for putting my dad in such a situation. He found all of it odd. So tonight… I had a feeling just like that night- like something bad was about to happen. Or maybe I’m just making up that excuse to cover the fact that I betrayed your trust and followed you to see just what you were up to-”

“No,” Yunho embraced you, planting a kiss on top of your head. “Even if you followed me because you were suspicious, you were right to do so. I shouldn’t have lied about the night shift- anyone would have suspected me after that. It just slipped- it’s my fault.”

“It’s not,” you wiped your eyes, drawing away. “I shouldn’t have followed you-”

“You saved me,” Yunho smiled at you. “Your gut feeling, your suspicions… they were right. If it weren’t for you-”

“But I killed him,” you cried. “You cannot take the blame for it now.”

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “We’ve uh… identified the man. Yunho, you might want to tell her who you really are.”

Yunho nodded, wiping your tears away. “Do you want to stay here? Or do you want to go home?”

“I think I’d like to go home… if that’s alright with you guys,” you said and the boys assured you that it was. Yunho got up and took the car keys from Seonghwa, sharing a few words with him and Wooyoung and Mingi asked you if you needed anything. You told them you were fine but you would like to be in the comfort of your own home right now and they understood.

“If Yunho bothers you too much, you can call us,” Mingi teased. “We’ll take care of him.”

“I think it’s the other way round, but thank you,” you finally laughed. “Can I ask- what will happen to that man? The body…”

“Yunho will let you know- you don’t have to worry about anything,” Wooyoung assured you and when Yunho extended his hand, you took a deep breath and took it.

You were going home, and you were finally going to learn who Yunho was.

—--------------------------

It was surreal to enter your home now, Yunho by your side and the weight of the events from the past few hours hanging over your shoulders. You both went to change first and you found yourself unable to look at your reflection in the mirror as you washed your face and hands. You took a few deep breaths to calm down, as best as you could manage in that moment before leaving and finding the smell of chamomile tea in the living room. Yunho motioned for you to join him on the couch and you passed a tight-lipped smile before obeying. You sipped the tea and waited for Yunho to gather his thoughts.

“When I was in high school,” Yunho finally began and you shifted towards him to watch him. “One night, a serial killer decided my parents were his next victims. He followed my mom home and killed both of them, and I… I wasn’t home- by the time I came home, he was done killing them.”

“Oh, dear,” you held Yunho’s hand. You couldn’t imagine what he must have felt.

“I saw him leaving,” Yunho sighed deeply. “Hongjoong was with me- he witnessed everything. He tried to stop me from going after the killer but I grabbed a metal rod and went after the man. He had a knife and that’s how I got this scar,” Yunho pointed at his arm. “Hongjoong saved me that night but I lost a part of me that night. A part that was human. I became almost animalistic, trying to find the killer.”

“Did you ever find him then?” You asked.

“I did, but after he died,” Yunho slumped back on the couch. “I couldn’t get my revenge. It wasn’t long after that incident. I lost my mind and was about to become the very killer I hated. Hongjoong saved me yet again- he knew that I wouldn’t stop at anything now. I was getting into a lot of fights and basically ruining my life.”

“How did he save you then?”

“He handed me a dagger and told me to do what I must with it,” Yunho admitted. “I was shocked because usually he was the one hiding anything that could become a weapon from me. But then I realised that I was only trying to protect innocent people like my parents. I would aimlessly walk the streets and help anyone who needed it.”

“That’s… very you,” you smiled and Yunho shook his head.

“I’m not a good person, though,” he said. “Somehow, we found each other, the eight of us. We select targets- corrupt politicians, rapists, offenders… especially the people who are public figures and lead double lives. We send hints to the police so they can do their job but when they don’t… we take the matter into our own hands.”

“Oh,” you frowned. “The politician a few days ago-”

“Not me,” Yunho shook his head. “Though he was my next target.”

“So you… kill them?”

“We only kill when someone is powerful enough to get away with all their crimes,” Yunho admitted and your heart sank dangerously- hearing it from his own mouth now, it finally started to feel real.

“Isn’t that… okay?” You wondered. “The police can’t do anything and they would only cause further harm if they are alive.”

“Yes, but…” Yunho tucked your hair behind your ear. “I shouldn’t enjoy it so much, should I? I think I’m twisted like that, y/n. I feel no remorse.”

You looked at him- how could you tell him that you understood? That you were okay with that? He would tell you over and over again that it was wrong, because he knew that too. You knew that too, yet…

“It’s kind of ironic then, that you all are doctors, right?” You finally said and he coughed, making you laugh a little- more in disbelief than in amusement. “So all your night shifts…?”

“We meet up at the warehouse to plan and work on new cases,” Yunho said.

“And the man that I…”

“We identified him- the boys are digging up further but we’re suspecting he’s the copycat killer.”

“The copycat killer?” You repeated in disbelief. “Copying who- oh.”

Yunho pursed his lips guiltily. “Those kitchen knives… they were murder weapons. Now you know why I got so angry when you used them to cook.”

“Oh, goodness-”

“Don’t worry, I sanitised them,” he said as if that could make things better. “When I stopped using them, someone kept murdering people with similar weapons. And not just carefully selected scum- innocent people. It was why Detective Seo suspected me at first and then let me go easily because it just didn’t match. He probably figured out that someone is copying the real killer.”

You took a deep breath. “I killed… a serial killer?”

“Yes,” Yunho held your hands, making you face him. “Do you know how badly the events of tonight could have turned out?”

“But he was going to kill you,” you said. “He had it all planned- he was waiting for you, Yunho. You could have been seriously hurt tonight- do you realise that?”

“I can’t believe you’re still worried about me,” Yunho almost cried. “Do you have any idea what went through my head when I saw you throwing yourself in the way to protect me… I thought I was going to lose you, y/n. Why did you do that?”

“I can’t lose you,” you simply said. “It felt like I was back to being that kid trying to protect my father. Why did you kill him without knowing who he was? Why did you try to take the blame, Yunho? Do you know how scared I was when you did that?”

When Yunho didn’t respond, his eyes tearing up, you continued. “I thought it was happening all over again. You would take the blame and I would have to live with the guilt. I’ve lived with guilt for far too long, Yunho. My father… he never made it out of prison. He was never a criminal and I guess the other prisoners found out, and they… they killed him. My mother and brother never forgave me after that. Do you think I could live with something like this again?”

Yunho wiped his eyes. “I understand, y/n, I really do,” he nodded. “But you have to understand that I was scared for you tonight. You shouldn’t have done any of that- the police will find the man’s body with all his crimes soon, but even if he was someone innocent, you shouldn’t have done that-”

“I did that to protect you,” you smiled. “What’s so hard to understand about that? Just like you delivered the killing blow to protect me, yeah? Why did you do that?”

“Because I love you,” Yunho breathed. “And I couldn’t bear to see that broken look in your eyes.”

“But we’re both broken in our own ways,” the tears finally rolled down your cheeks at his confession and he laughed a little, wiping them away as he cupped your face. “Is that why you’ve been so distant? So unapproachable? You thought you were broken and no one could love you?”

When Yunho nodded, you shook your head. “Well, I might be just like you then. And I love you for who you are. I love you for the way you tried to protect me, and I love you for still loving me when I told you who I am.”

Yunho finally relaxed and laughed, bringing you in for a hug and you got in his lap, wrapping your limbs around each other. You hugged him good and tight, telling him that he didn’t have to be so guarded anymore- he could be himself with you. He kissed you and told you that you could stop being so scared as well. You found yourself content in his embrace as you both shared your pasts and concerns, assuring each other that everything would be okay and helping each other process the events of tonight, Yunho treating the various places you got nicked and patching you up. You were still scared and anxious but he was there for you, holding you even as you fell asleep.

There was no place he would rather be anyway.

—----------------------------

“The snake in the suit was cornered now. With a grim realisation, he wondered if he should have listened to the lanky cop on his case that he couldn’t even bother to remember the name of– he probably meant well when he suggested the snake be careful now. What would the snake need to be afraid of? The snake was a predator. It only needed to worry about finding prey.

However, the predator had become the prey now, defenceless in front of the masked spider who wielded his weapon of justice- a beautifully carved dagger with a golden hilt. For the first time in his life, the snake wished it had been a gun instead so his end would have been quick. However, just like the snake had enjoyed wearing the face of justice to the public while circulating drugs to the desperate, the spider enjoyed wearing no mask when he prosecuted his targets. The spider had one purpose to serve- so why not enjoy it?

The spider leaned into the snake’s ears, holding the tip of his dagger under the snake’s chin as he whispered, “I sent you countless warnings, didn’t I? I told you what fate you would meet if you continued down this road. Prison would have been a playground for you compared to the hell I’m about to show you.”

Any ramblings of mercy went up the spider’s head- he couldn’t hear anything anymore. With a kick to the snake’s stomach, he made him sink to his knees before he swiped the dagger along his cheekbone, producing a spurt of blood. The snake let out a choked whimper and the spider cocked his head, wondering which part of his body to ruin next– hey, y/n… I’m pretty sure it’s not that deep.”

“It’s fiction, Wooyoung,” you simply winked but Wooyoung wasn’t having any of it.

“Yunho, tell me, did you really cock your head and wonder which part of him you’d like to ruin next?”

Yunho only bothered shooting Wooyoung a dirty look in between arguing with San and Jongho about a recent case they had at their clinic- something about how to perform a specific type of stitch that would be seamless.

“What do you think, Yeosang?” Wooyoung elbowed the man next to him. “Don’t you think she’s overdoing some of it?”

“Well, what do you want me to write? ‘Yunho went and killed the politician who had been circulating drugs all around the province’. Plain and simple like that?”

“I think she writes gore to cope,” Yeosang commented. “I’ve been seeing a pattern and- wait, was I not supposed to point that out?”

You looked at Mingi for help who looked moments away from bursting into laughter. “You might want to switch your psychiatrist, y/n.”

“I think I’m good with you,” you grimaced at Yeosang who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “This one should stick to the kidney stuff instead of treating the mind.”

“You heard her,” Mingi clapped, finally bursting out laughing. “Stick to being a nephrologist.”

“I don’t even know how people can have you as their psychiatrist,” Yeosang narrowed his eyes at Mingi and you shook your head in amusement- this banter wasn’t new. “What do you tell them? This too shall pass?”

Wooyoung snorted at that while Mingi raised his finger at him, trying to come up with a retort but failing and sulk-walking to Yunho, resting his head against his shoulder. You smiled at how Yunho naturally adjusted to have both of them in a comfortable position while continuing arguing with the Chois.

It had been a couple of months since that fateful night. You were still trying to process most of what happened that night and the boys were always there to help you with that, going above and beyond. While at first you had been apprehensive of them- rightfully so- now they were almost like family to you. You found that all of them were extremely hardworking and ambitious, but also very gentle and kind. Or perhaps, you were receiving special treatment as Yunho often joked.

Yunho gave you all the time and space you needed to sort your thoughts out while continuing being there for you- you were amazed at how good he was with that balance. He never let you feel overwhelmed or alone. He answered all of your questions about him and he just knew when you wanted to talk about your own feelings. He would ask you what you were afraid to find the answers to and then help you navigate through the tangled web that your thoughts were. When he suggested you go to Mingi for ‘therapy sessions’, you asked him if he genuinely thought you needed therapy and if Mingi was really the right person to go considering his role in what they did.

“I mean… Mingi is sort of my therapist too,” Yunho admitted to your surprise. “One thing about him is that he understands. No matter how sick or twisted you think you may be, he understands and he guides you to your own solution to that. Surprisingly, he’s the one who helped me overcome my rage and trauma of my parents, not Hongjoong.”

That really got you thinking and when you went to your appointment with Mingi in his clinic, he asked you what role you would like him to play- a stranger and just a therapist, or who he really was. You preferred the latter and soon, you found yourself looking forward to going to those sessions. You could now talk about what happened with your father without feeling an immense sense of guilt because even though all this time you knew it was not your fault, you simply hadn’t made peace with that. Mingi also helped you realise that what they did- the ‘vigilante’ stuff- it wasn’t lawful. It might even be wrong and you needed to acknowledge and remember that.

And you did. So when Seonghwa and Hongjoong came to you with an odd proposition, you took your time thinking about it. You spent a few days away from everything, back in your hometown to visit your mother and brother and this time, you could actually talk back to them when they mocked you about going to your father’s grave when, according to them, you were his murderer. That time away helped you sort through the final knots in your mind.

And when Yunho came back home that day to the smell of a freshly cooked meal in his house, he had to take a moment for himself. He spread his arms as soon as he saw you and you crushed him in a hug, giggling like kids. You were back in his arms and that was all that mattered to him. You informing him that you agreed to Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s proposition was a bonus.

“She’s a crime-gore fiction writer, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong finally said. “You can’t expect anything less from her. Besides, the details make it look less believable, which means less people will suspect that what she writes is not wholly fictional.”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “Good one by the way, Yeosang.”

“Yeah, I was going to say that,” Hongjoong laughed. “I once went to Mingi too. He told me that exact line and that’s when I decided I didn’t really need therapy.”

“Ah, I didn’t know that,” Yeosang laughed. “No wonder he’s sulking so much.”

“He’ll be fine,” Seonghwa chuckled and you didn’t miss the adoration in his eyes as he glanced at Mingi. Seonghwa turned to you, closing your book and placing it on the table in front of him. “I think you did a great job. It’s a very engaging story and the facts are present for the wise ones if they can connect the dots. I quite like it, y/n.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I owe it to you both. You’re really good editors- it’s too bad you both refuse to take credit.”

“It would only raise suspicion,” Hongjoong dismissed. “You’re the writer. We’re only, uh… inspirations?”

“Inspirations,” Wooyoung repeated. “I know exactly who would be pleased to hear that. Our favourite detective.”

“I heard from a source that he spent two hours trying to convince his coworkers that what you were writing wasn’t fiction,” Hongjoong scoffed. “He’s been quite silent lately.”

“The excitement must have dulled now- it’s been weeks since this book has been out,” you said. “I think he might be starting to take pointers now. He texted me a few days ago asking which politician he should keep an eye out for next.”

“What did you say?” Yeosang asked.

“I told him the next book could be about a detective who refuses to leave a poor girl alone,” you grinned, the group bursting into a chorus of laughter. “He enjoyed that joke, actually. I think he’s warming up to me now.”

“He better not,” Yunho finally joined, putting his hands on your shoulders from behind you. “I don’t want him obsessing about what kitchen tools we use these days. Shall we go home now?”

You nodded, saying goodnight to the boys and exiting the warehouse with Yunho. A bike ride later in the chilly night, you were home and just like always, grinning as you entered- you still loved the bike rides.

“Oh, tomorrow’s Sunday,” you clapped, suddenly remembering. “We get to sleep in. What do you wanna do tonight? Movie?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Yunho pretended to think, a grin creeping up on his face as he tackled you in a back hug and swung you around once, making your laugh echo in the house. “I think I’ll skip.”

“What’s got you so mushy tonight?” You asked- Yunho was swinging you both back and forth, his cheek resting against yours.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “I just still can’t get used to the fact that you’re real.”

You chuckled at that- you knew that Yunho absolutely loved the sight of you getting along with his friends, working with them, and actually supporting them. You insisted it was because the world really needed less criminals prowling around and while Yunho agreed, he also knew that part of the reason you agreed in the first place was because of him and he told you that he sometimes couldn’t believe that you could love him despite what he did.

You only told him once that a sick part of you definitely enjoyed killing those men if that meant you got to protect your loved ones. He remembered what you said- that everyone had something ugly like that in them- they just hadn’t been desperate enough to realise it yet. And thanks to you, Yunho was discovering a new side of himself- someone passionate and gentle and human. Sure, he had been that with his friends before, but with you, it was definitely different and new.

“Says the 6 foot tall handsome doctor slash biker slash vigilante. It can’t get hotter than that,” you teased.

“Bet you moved in because of that.”

“Maybe I did,” you teased. “Wasn’t it the best decision you made, agreeing to let me move in?”

Yunho thought about it for a few moments, humming to himself. “I could think of a few better decisions I’ve made-”

You smacked his arm, getting out of his grasp and muttering you were going to bed first and Yunho laughed loudly at your antics, following you as you walked towards the stairs and when you noticed him, you sped up, giggling when he started running after you. You barely made it to his room when he had you in his arms again and was peppering kisses all over your face.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he said. “The best decision I made was probably letting Detective Seo rattle you out while I stood outside and listened.”

You gasped loudly. “You did all of that just to have an excuse to kiss me, didn’t you?”

“Who knows?” Yunho shrugged teasingly. “Might not have gotten a better chance.”

“Come on, say it,” you started unbuttoning his shirt. “When exactly did you fall for me?”

“Let’s see…” he thought about it while you took off his shirt and ran your hands across his toned chest, tracing all his scars like you always did. “Could have been when you scolded me about the boots and the water trail and ordered me to use the bunny towel.”

“Sheesh, you’re that easy?”

“Yeah, I’m simple like that,” Yunho muttered before drawing in to capture your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. “It’s the little things you did that made me a mess way before you defended me with all your might.”

“That was the first time you laughed,” you smiled at the memory, turning him around so you could make him sit on his bed. You got in his lap and he squeezed your thighs in appreciation. “I think you had me right there too.”

Yunho shook his head at your confession and you grinned, pushing him to make him lie down. He loved it when you did that and took your time appreciating him, kissing all his scars and massaging his scalp as you drove him a little crazy, rolling your hips on his crotch suggestively once in a while. And he let you take your time because once he took charge, once he flipped you so you were under him and let his hands run all over your body as he kissed every inch of it, and once you were skin to skin-

That’s when you were done for.

#yunho x reader #yunho angst #yunho fluff #ateez ff #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #yunho smut #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez au #yunho fanfic #jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho angst #jeong yunho fluff

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eightmakesonebraincell · 3 months ago

Text

our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom

genre: poly hockey team!ateez x coach fem!reader, enemies/strangers to lovers, athlete!au, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 37.6k

c/w: sweaty and athletic ateez (warning well deserved), explicit profanity, themes of corruption and rocky family relationships, trauma, hurt/comfort, injuries, kissing, boys are in an established relationship, m x m interactions

synopsis: you become the new coach of the elite men's ice hockey team, the red devils. but with both yourself and the team carrying burdens of the past, you all find it difficult to see eye to eye. as you lead them to the championships in the korean ice hockey league, you discover that teamwork and trust is not as straightforward as it seems.

a/n: it has made me incredibly touched to see so many of my readers from the essence of youth come back to support this new oneshot. thank you from the bottom of my heart ♡ and as always, this fic would not have been possible without @sorryimananti-romantic and her undying support

if someone were to ask yunho–or anybody on the team–when he feels the most alive, his answer would be the same every single time: when he is on the ice, just like he is right now.

the air of the rink is already chilly, but with the added cold of emerging autumn, each rugged lungful he takes fills his chest with vigour. only his own heavy breathing can be heard as the rest of the players’ shouts become muffled into the background outside of his helmet. he tightens his grip on his stick, muscles locked and engaged with adrenaline. his vision narrows, an opening suddenly clearing itself through the tangle of sticks and jungle of skates–a golden opportunity for him to take.

“san!” he yells.

their usual goaltender glances upwards as he handles the puck rebounding off the boards. his jaw tightens and with a practised flick of his wrist, san chips the puck over an incoming stick’s attempt to block the pass. there’s a burst of explosive power as yunho speeds up along the opposite boards to receive the landing puck, hoping to break away from the opposing team’s offensive players before he passes it off.

the flash of a blue jersey appears in yunho’s vision with alarming momentum. they lower and widen their stance, shoulder positioned in front ready to knock him directly into the boards in an attempt to steal the puck, leaving yunho with no choice but to mirror their actions. he braces himself as the opponent rams into him with more force than a usual play, and in combination with their own towering height, yunho finds himself being pushed into the plexiglass panels as he loses possession of the puck.

involuntarily, he lets out a threatening growl of vexation. there is a teasing chuckle from the other player that still has him pinned against the wall despite the continuing game, which clearly tells him that the excessive body check was deliberate. yunho has half a mind to flip their positions, knowing he could easily overpower the other. but before he can adjust his stick out of the way to make good use of his hands, the opponent playfully knocks their helmets together.

“you’re hot when you get all competitive and riled up.”

all of the tension escapes yunho’s body, because he will never not find mingi’s attempts to flirt mid-game–with his mouthguard and resultant bumbling pronunciation–to be amusing. he endearingly rolls his eyes and sighs, “have you not heard of, ‘don’t poke the bear’?”

“you’re not a bear, though,” mingi squirms cheekily on the spot, still up in yunho’s personal space because he knows the older will never be truly annoyed by his antics. “you’re just a cute, harmless puppy.”

before mingi can blink, yunho grabs him by the shoulders and pins him against the wall. yunho smirks, “and they also say, ‘let sleeping dogs lie’.”

wooyoung tongues his cheek with mischief at the sight of the two, nice and cosy against the walls of the rink. he hands his stick off to seonghwa, who is starting to remove his helmet, and skates in their direction, ignoring the dull throb in his left ankle. wooyoung only bothers to slow himself down slightly, instead letting his trajectory be cushioned by something else.

mingi lets out a pathetic noise as the air is squeezed out of his chest from the impact of wooyoung and yunho’s added weight. the latter grunts out, a little breathless, “woo, please, you’re going to knock somebody out like this one day.”

it goes in one ear and out the other as wooyoung grins up at him to state, “seonghwa scored so we lost ‘cause you were too busy making out with mister mingles here.”

yunho pushes off the wall to free himself from the sandwich of bodies and pivots on his skates to jab wooyoung’s padded chest. “you and san were doing the exact same thing just five minutes ago.”

“we’re on the same team,” wooyoung shrugs, “whereas mingi is not, so you’re fraternising with the enemy. now come on losers, captain’s wrapping up practice.”

the three of them glide along the ice to rejoin the rest of the team, where they are stepping out of the rink to sit on the benches. they remove their helmets and start unlacing their skates as hongjoong gathers the attention of the team.

“great work from everybody today, especially you, jongho. your backhand wrist shots are improving–keep it up. now just a reminder to everyone that our regular games start next week so i want you all to make sure you are stretching and cooling down properly,” he emphasises. he pointedly looks at yeosang, who has already begun to wander his way off to the changerooms, at the same time that seonghwa scruffs him by the back of his jersey and gently tugs him back to the team.

jongho peels off his blue practice jersey as he scans the arena and absentmindedly asks, “is coach still not here? it’s already the end of practice.”

“he said he had something to sort out today, but would come round if everything went well,” seonghwa answers, also craning his neck to look for signs of their coach.

from where you and coach cho are watching from the designated scouting area in the arena, the team is unable to spot you two. you had come from the final negotiations of your contract with coach cho and had watched their team, the red devils, play the last period of their game. despite it only being a friendly match amongst the team’s players, you have already grasped a sense of their playing style–it is heavy on the offensive at the expense of defence, just like how you used to play. it is fast-paced, aggressive and…prone to injury.

“let’s go meet the team,” coach cho voices, making his way out of the viewing area as you follow beside him. all the players look up from their skates that they are still unlacing or from their stretches on the floor when you two near the arrangement of benches surrounding the rink. they greet coach cho enthusiastically and you can see why from the way the older man smiles at them like they are his own sons.

“y/n, this is the team, the red devils–my pride and joy. boys, this is y/n,” he introduces. “i had to miss practice to meet up with y/n and make sure she was happy to sign on as part of the red devils.”

said team gives you disinterested glances, a complete change from the receptivity with which they respond to coach cho. one of the red-jerseyed boys, who you recognise as wooyoung, utters sarcastically, “cute, but we don’t need a mascot or cheerleader.”

coach cho chuckles lightly, “she’s your new coach.”

“hold on, you were serious about–” “–are you coaching a different team–” “–you don’t want us anymore?”

some of the boys erupt into a barrage of questions, trying to make sense of the sudden announcement, whereas the others stay quiet, flickers of flashbacks stirring up from within the depths of their memories. their coach raises his hands to settle them as he apologises, “i didn’t want to say anything before i was one hundred percent sure that things would go ahead, and i wasn’t sure whether y/n would accept the offer.”

“is it because your wife is due soon?” san interrupts.

coach cho nods, “with twins, and i want to be present to help–as a husband and a father. but that just isn’t feasible as your coach, as much as i love you boys.”

training as professional athletes takes incredible perseverance, discipline and commitment. there are early mornings, late nights, weekends and public holidays. it takes sacrifices in the form of time and relationships, especially when they must travel away from home for up to weeks on end to compete in matches. and with the start of the regular season, the intensity is only going to ramp up. as hard as the athletes train, the coach works twice as hard to make it all possible.

the team needs somebody to be there for them to ensure they make it into the playoffs, and it just won’t be fair for anybody–the players and his own family–if coach cho were to keep his position. and the team gets it, they really do, but–

“she’s the new coach?” yunho frowns in confusion. “no offence, but we’re not a bunch of kids for her to practise being a soccer mum to.”

“she was the assistant coach for the grey eagles,” coach cho discloses.

“the grey eagles? the under-21 men’s championship team?” yeosang looks incredulous.

mingi sceptically comments, “the fact that we’ve never seen or heard of her before probably tells us enough.”

hongjoong’s lips purse sourly as he tries his hardest to analyse the situation with the professionalism of the team’s captain. but with the sudden change in coaches and the same critiquing doubts as mingi, hongjoong cannot help but feel his personal judgement webbing over his mind. over the team’s entire career as an elite ice hockey team thus far–five years, now well into their sixth–the red devils have only ever had two coaches. coach cho has been with them for the longest and whilst it took the team a while to eventually warm up to him, he has been with them for almost quadruple the amount of time it took to trust him.

the team’s alternate captain, seonghwa, speaks to you directly, “if you don’t mind me asking, why are you not playing as an athlete yourself? you’re clearly our age–nowhere near retiring.”

you knew from the very start that your age would make your credibility as a coach much lower, and your answer to seonghwa will not help your case either. “i stopped playing.”

“how come?”

the trigger of memories fills your nose with a sharp stinging smell. you blankly reveal, “i chose to stop playing.” you know exactly how it sounds like to somebody else, even more so to professional athletes. coach cho has also told you of the team’s hardheadedness and strong will when it comes to the passions of their career, so you are expecting the cold receptiveness that you are met with.

your response strikes the wrong chord within wooyoung. there was a point in his career not too long ago when the choice of continuing to play or not was at risk of becoming a forced decision. the way you answer so callously with those very words that had threatened to tear his world apart has his jaw grinding and eyes darkening, and he is not the only athlete in the arena who feels similarly.

“i would rather choose to die before i choose to stop playing. ice hockey is my entire life and without it, i am not living either,” hongjoong jabs and you cannot help but clench your fists because you know exactly what he means. still, you stay quiet as he continues, “sorry, but i can’t respect a ‘coach’ who chose to stop playing.”

at the captain’s words and subsequent move to leave for the changerooms, the rest of the team also gather their equipment and follow his steps. san’s feet falter in front of you, expression hesitant until he decides to voice, “our team needs a bit of time. it’s hard for us to warm up to…outsiders, and i know it might not mean much to say this but we have our reasons. don’t expect us to blindly trust you just because you’re a coach.”

the use of the word ‘outsider’ does not go unnoticed as you nod, “of course.”

san jogs off to rejoin the others and coach cho hums, “guess some things haven’t changed. they were just as prickly to me when i first became their coach.”

you raise an eyebrow, “prickly? to you?”

“yes, believe it or not,” he chuckles nostalgically. “we’ve come a long way because i’ve been their coach for years now. but it took me a while before i was able to break down their walls.”

you briefly mull over the information, then ask out of curiosity, “what would you have done if i didn’t sign the contract?”

“begged you to rethink your decision,” he jokes with a pleased chortle. “i would have to start looking for a different coach, i suppose. you were my only pick.”

“but why me, of all people? there are so many other experienced coaches that you can choose from.”

he looks at you, eyes glinting with intuition and confidence as he simply says, “you’re familiar with their playing style. they play just like you used to.” at your silent processing, coach cho probes, “why didn’t you tell them the real reason?”

you smile wistfully, “i didn't tell them because i’m not here to gain their pity.”

some of the boys’ voices grow louder as they emerge from the changerooms, changed into fresh clothes and their kit bags slung over their shoulders. you hear one of them ask, “captain, is she really going to be our new coach?”

they step out from the facility’s corridor and you accidentally make eye contact with hongjoong, yet neither of you look away. maintaining a steady gaze directly at you, he responds with a slight glower, “maybe, but she’s only the coach by title. i’m still the captain of the team, so let’s see who everyone listens to.”

as they exit the rink’s arena, you feel a fire of determination growing inside of you. you have won over your own demons and you have won the championships before–this is nothing in comparison. whether your next words are for coach cho or for yourself to hear, it does not matter.

“i may not play anymore but i was still once an athlete, and no athlete has ever, in their career, wanted pity. i’m here to earn the team’s respect and i will win over them, especially their captain.”

you watch the swing of the glass door as it shuts behind the players, catching a brief glimpse of the trees lining the arena’s perimeter. it is the first day of autumn when you meet the red devils for the first time and outside, the leaves are beginning to change their colours.

autumn, 2018: pre-season

hongjoong believes all coaches are to be respected. it does not matter what kind of team they coach, how many years of experience they have, or whether they have built up a reputation for themselves. to hongjoong, respect for coaches is not something earned nor negotiable–it is something well-deserved and expected, as is for anybody in a position that is higher in the chain of command.

he may be the captain of their unofficial team, but hongjoong knows that the way a team can place their blind trust in the coach is irreplaceable, regardless of how much the other players rely on him too.

hongjoong watches as his boys carry out the practice drill he has set up for them. yeosang handles the puck around the cones before passing it to wooyoung, primed offensively near the goal to make a quick shot, who groans when his shot rebounds off the post. as he retrieves the disc, yeosang takes over wooyoung’s position near the goal ready to receive yunho’s pass as he starts to work his way through the cones next.

they are limited in the type of drills they can practise because hongjoong was only able to rent half of the community rink for a measly two hours. the boys are not even in proper uniform, wearing only their shin guards under their sweatpants and gloves on their hands to prevent any injuries when the centre had stated very firmly they would not be allowed in with their bulky equipment.

and yet, none of this has dampened the boys’ spirits. san teasingly brags that it is his chance to show off his skills other than goaltending, and jongho thanks hongjoong quietly for renting the rink in the first place. their understanding nods and comforting hugs make hongjoong’s heart clench, even more so as the team eagerly and diligently practise the drills in mediocre conditions but with fiery determination to prove their worth as newly-signed athletes under the kq blue birds.

this is exactly why hongjoong is driven to find them a coach–any coach: to give his boys a solid pillar they can rely on, because he himself lacks the resources and strings to pull in order to fulfil their shared dreams. he needs to keep his boys as one team, instead of scattered into other teams as extra players like a gracious opportunity for the leftovers, since kq does not yet have a coach available for the eight of them.

“captain!”

the excitement in seonghwa’s voice startles hongjoong more than the speed at which the alternate captain skates towards him. seonghwa digs his skates into the ice at the last second, stopping himself just shy of knocking the other over as he exclaims, “he emailed back!”

“the coach you reached out to?” hongjoong clarifies, eyes growing wide.

having caught wind of his signed contract as a professional athlete, an acquaintance of seonghwa’s had reached out offering to pass on the contact of their acquaintance, who apparently knew somebody with coaching experience. it was rare for a coach to take on a rookie team unless there were incredible benefits, so he and hongjoong had drafted and sent an email with little to no expectations for a reply. but seonghwa’s furious nodding is telling otherwise, and his eyes sparkle as he shoves his phone in hongjoong’s face to show him the email.

dear mr park, thank you for your interest and for reaching out with your proposal. i have looked at your athlete profiles and it appears that you all have big dreams and extremely promising futures. it would be my utmost pleasure to help you all reach your true potential by coaching your team. if you would like to arrange a meeting in person to discuss expectations and conditions regarding training, competitions and future championships prior to finalising the contracts with your company, please let me know what times and dates best suit yourself and your team captain, mr kim. i look forward to working with you all. kind regards, coach yeon

“holy shit,” hongjoong steadies seonghwa’s giddy hand to read the email again. when he reaches the last line, he starts once more from the beginning to make sure his eyes are not lying to him. then he breathes out with finality, “holy shit. am i reading this right?”

“yeah, joong. you’re reading it right.”

hongjoong is not often one to be affectionate with the others, but yanking seonghwa into a bone-crushing hug as he repeats holy shit like a mantra is the only response he is able to muster. the older laughs wetly, throat constricting with overwhelming joy and he holds onto his captain until the other pulls back.

“you tell them, okay?” seonghwa does not wait for a response before he is raising his voice to gather the others, “boys! hongjoong has good news for us!”

like puppies responding to the call of food, their heads immediately perk up and they abandon the puck and the drill to speed towards their two captains. there is a clamour of questions as they enthusiastically predict what is going to be said.

“are they letting us use the rink for longer?”

wooyoung squeezes himself in between yunho and mingi to ask, “are we getting the whole rink?!”

“no way,” san gasps, “or did our practice jerseys arrive?”

hongjoong’s eyes soften at their guesses. his boys demand so little from him when he wants to give them everything they could never even think of asking for. he glances at seonghwa, who looks just about ready to burst from his own excitement, then reveals, “we’ve found a coach willing to take on our team.”

dead silence. yeosang blinks and wooyoung’s jaw drops. jongho, who had been lazily circling around the group, comically slows to a stop, joining the rest of the boys in frozen stupor. it is only broken when yunho dares to confirm, “does this mean we won’t be rostered as extras for other teams?”

everyone’s hopeful eyes look at hongjoong. he nods, “we’re staying together and playing as our own team.”

it is obvious the moment the information registers in their minds and the implications of what it means for the team’s future starts to sink in. they explode into a flurry of movement and hongjoong and seonghwa find themselves swept up into the middle of a clumsy group huddle as shouts are exchanged, uncaring of who is listening or talking.

“are we finally playing in championships with the big dogs?”

“we’re going to play interstate?”

“oh my god, what if we get into nationals?”

“nah, fuck that boys, let’s go international! we’re going to represent korea one day and become the best team in the world.”

the amount of voices overlapping one another are overwhelming, but it is overwhelming in the way that it makes hongjoong soar up into the clouds, wings stretched to their full span and carried by the hollers and cheers surrounding him in every direction. his cheeks hurt from smiling because these are the boys that he knows and loves.

they may only be a small team of eight, but they have dreams that are big enough to fill the entire universe.

“what’s the coaches name–” “–know if they’re a good coach–” “–teams have they coached before–”

seonghwa chuckles as the boys hound them with question after question and hongjoong appeases their curiosity dotingly, “we’ll find out when we meet him–coach yeon.”

but it does not matter what qualifications coach yeon has or does not have, and it does not matter what teams he has coached or has not coached before. what matters is that he is a coach and he is willing to be their coach, because it means that hongjoong and his boys are finally taking the next step towards their big dreams.

and most importantly, they will be in this together…as the red devils.

autumn, present: regular season

“again.”

hongjoong grits his teeth, taking up his position as centre again in the marked circle for the practice drill. even during defensive faceoff plays, he and the team are accustomed to taking on an aggressive approach. when he wins possession of the puck, the wingers–usually yeosang and wooyoung, or jongho when substituted on–quickly breakaway and move forward with him into the offensive zone.

obviously, they have other strategic plays too to switch up the predictability of their tactics, such as moving the puck towards the board whilst yeosang covers him, or by passing the puck back to the mingi in defence. but overall, their team is capable of rapidly flipping from defensive to offensive play using the aggressive setup.

the practice drill you are currently running emphasises heavily on the defence–the reverse setup play. hongjoong is to pass backwards but in the direction of the boards whilst yeosang supports and wooyoung covers the area directly between the circle and san. mingi moves towards the boards to receive the puck, and their other defenceman, yunho, assists with covering the goal.

hongjoong does admit that this play is much safer and stabler, but it is also much slower and…cowardly. his team is called the red devils for a reason and their reputation as demons on ice is not something that he is going to throw away–not following years of blood, sweat and tears to stand back up after falling during their rookie year.

when he assumes his stance once again inside the faceoff circle opposite seonghwa, who is playing the centre position as the mock opponent, you drop the puck onto the centre dot. the moment it hits the ice, hongjoong clears it with his stick towards the right boards. it doesn’t go back far enough for mingi to receive though, so yeosang makes the split decision to burst sideways to retrieve the puck, all three forwards moving aggressively in synchronisation to advance offensively once he gains possession.

you stop them, shaking your head. “again.”

it has been a week since your first meeting with the team, and with the start of the regular season, training has focused on refining their strategies. the red devils are playing in the korean ice hockey league for the second time, an annual national championship with a singular men’s division.

teams from all over korea gather in seoul to compete in regular-season games at the gangneung ice arena against the other teams in rotation. depending on the number of participants, the red devils will need to play an average of three games a week for the next five to six months. then based on the outcome of the games, if your team scores within the top thirty two, they will be able to enter the playoffs.

last year, the red devils were only able to make it to the quarterfinals before they were knocked out. but considering it was their first time competing in a proper championship–as opposed to the rookie leagues and interstate competitions they competed in during the first four years of their career–making it into the top eight teams out of over a hundred or so teams was already impressive enough.

your team’s first regular-season game starts tomorrow, so it does not matter that this is the sixth time in a row that you have stopped them during this drill. you will make them restart until they perfect the play. with that in mind, you release the puck onto the centre dot of the circle once more, but this time seonghwa wins the faceoff, clearing it to the side where jongho is waiting as his left wing. seonghwa looks at you guiltily and anticipates the word that will come out of your mouth.

you bite your tongue, having sensed the rising tension amongst the team an hour ago, but now they are almost at their boiling point. closing your eyes briefly, you try reminding yourself to think about the situation from your players’ perspectives.

their career progression rides on this championship, and with their grit and determination, they will not settle for simply beating their own record in ranking. no, they vie for first place. only the top team secures a position in the international ice hockey league, the most coveted opportunity to represent korea in the championship between the world’s best teams.

and it is during this vital time–when the stress levels and stakes are as high as they can get–that the boys have suddenly had to change coaches. not only have they lost their most trusted support and guide, they have only had one week to adjust to their new one–you. in the grand scheme of things, one week is nowhere near enough time to develop any sort of meaningful relationship where they are able to listen to and rely on you.

taking a breath, you explain, “being so focused on offence leaves your team vulnerable if the opposing team also has aggressive forwards that you can’t break through. the faceoff play needs to be adjusted for those situations, otherwise it’ll be too difficult to control the puck and it will more than likely end up in chaos. it won’t be a game of professional skill anymore, but a circus of dirty play.”

your defence-focused coaching style has worked well for all the past teams you have taught, both men’s and women’s teams. you know that the boys play an offence-focused style; you are reminded too closely of your past self every time they rush head-on into every situation. and it is exactly because of that–because you know the dangers that come with their aggressive style–that you are making them adjust their play. their career comes first and if they suffer an injury, there may not be a career left.

so you will play the bad cop if you have to. they will come to understand you one day.

san bites down on his mouthguard as he listens from his position in the goal. he is able to see each and every play unfold, better than any other of his teammates, so he knows where you are coming from. whilst he has become used to the pressures that come with goaltending, no amount of training or competitions will ever fully eliminate the sudden spike in fear and anticipation the moment the opposing team’s forwards break past yunho and mingi.

san is the team’s last line of defence and the best outcome is that a game never comes down to just him, the opponent’s stick, and his goal. it is true that his team needs to work on their defensive plays, so when the others huff in defiance and reluctantly reset their positions, san simply lowers his centre of gravity in wait for your cue to restart the drill.

“again.”

outside the arena, the echo of sticks and scraping of skates sound faintly as the first leaf of autumn begins to fall to the ground. as time passes, the rest of the leaves will also succumb to a similar fate, only differing in how. some will fall in a slow and graceful descent, whilst others…

…a rapid and spiralling whirlwind downwards.

counting the heads and finding all eight of your players seated in the bus, you nod to the driver to close the door and start driving. most of the boys have chosen to sit on a two-seater by themselves, only yunho and mingi choosing to sit together. they share a set of wired earphones, eyebrows furrowed in concentration at one of their phones, likely monitoring one of their own matches or one of another team’s.

the rest of the boys sit alone, faces grim and tight as they stare out the window. they look exactly like you used to and it hits you with a wave of bittersweet nostalgia.

the ride to the competition venue–much less for the very first game of the season–is always the quietest, air strung tight with nerves as everyone prepares themselves psychologically for the inevitable pressures that the game will bring. being able to compose and centre one’s mindset is already half the battle won, and whilst nobody says it out loud, you all know that today’s results, despite it only being day one, will set the tone for the next four to five months as they fight to qualify for the playoffs.

as you make one final sweep from the back of the bus to the front whilst it pulls away from the curb, you accidentally make eye contact with yeosang. you give him a polite smile and he opens his mouth, closes it on second thought, then decides to ask anyway, “do you want to sit here?”

it is a lie to say that you are not surprised by the question, so you stumble over your response as you stammer, “oh, okay. thanks.”

yeosang reciprocates your noise of disorientation and when he fumbles to move his bag aside that had been occupying the space beside him, you belatedly realise he was only asking out of courtesy. but backtracking now and rejecting his offer would be a million times worse and you can only try to hide the flaming heat behind your cheeks as best as you can as you sit down in the seat.

he fiddles with the straps of his bag and you can feel his discomfort reeking off his hands. in an attempt to break the ice, you glance at him, “are you nervous for the game?”

he nods, “don’t think it gets any less nerve-wracking no matter how many games you play.”

“well this is a pretty big championship. you have every reason to feel nervous,” you hum.

yeosang levels you with a look. “are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

you do not know him well enough to be able to discern whether he is joking with you or not. opting to clear your throat instead, you point out, “you have your teammates who you can trust.”

“yeah…teammates.”

and you have me, too, as your coach, you want to say.

the hopeful glimpse in the dark of your eyes is enough for yeosang to pick up on your thoughts. he swallows uncomfortably and looks away.

we don’t know that yet.

you bite the inside of your cheek, trying once more to extend the conversation after a pregnant pause. “did you guys have a coach before cho?” either you have a shitty sense of appropriate conversation starters or yeosang wants absolutely nothing to do with you (it is likely both, but one can be optimistic), because his shoulders tense almost immediately.

“we did…just one,” he starts off carefully. you think that that is going to be the end of it, but then he adds on, “we don’t really talk about him though.”

and there it is–the end of the conversation. it is his nice way of telling you that there is no more to be said, so you sit the rest of the ride in silence next to yeosang, pretending not to let the sheer awkwardness suffocate you.

when the bus arrives at the gangneung ice arena, you hurry to alight and only then do you feel like you are able to breathe again. you plaster on a smile and notify the boys, “your first game is in two hours against the panthers. you’ve been allocated locker room 3B.”

they make their way into the centre and you trail behind in wait as they find their designated space. warm-ups will be first so they will not be needing their full gear just yet, which means it should not take long for them to change.

inside the locker room, the red devils shrug off their bulky duffle bags and change into their game jerseys, lacing and relacing their skates to ensure the snuggest fits. hongjoong alerts, “boys, time to go out and start warming up,” receiving a chorus of acknowledgement as everyone grabs the rest of the gear that they need.

before jongho places his phone into his assigned locker, he habitually taps on the screen one last time to check for any notifications and finds a single text from his younger brother, jonghyuk. he knows he should not read it, much less right before his first game, but the smaller part inside him that yearns for his family’s recognition dares to hope for something. dragging the preview down to avoid opening it, jongho reads the text.

are you just going to keep pretending you haven’t read our messages?

jongho clenches his jaw and swipes the notification away as if that will also erase it from his mind. tossing his phone into the locker, he shuts it with a harsh swing, resting his forehead against the cool metal as he closes his eyes and breathes out shakily. this game–this championship–jongho has to win; he cannot afford to lose.

“captain.”

hongjoong turns around to see jongho striding up towards him, brows furrowed and voice troubled as he questions, “are we really not going to tell coach what our game plan is? shouldn’t we work together with her?”

“jongho,” the captain sighs, “we got lucky with coach cho, but we know better than anyone else that not all coaches are like him.”

from where he has been listening in on the conversation at the doors leading out of the locker room, seonghwa’s shoulders stiffen. there is a moment of silence; the rest of the team have already made their way to the ice rink.

“what if we lose?”

it is the way that his voice grows small and timid that hongjoong realises it is not his captain that jongho needs right now. hongjoong’s gaze softens as he searches the younger’s eyes, “did your family say something again?”

he receives no answer but it tells him more than enough. “you trust me?”

jongho’s almost imperceptible nod does not escape hongjoong’s observations, so he continues to reassure, “we’ll win. my boys are the best players, you included, and we already have experience playing in this competition.” he ducks down slightly to meet jongho’s gaze, “and even if we do lose? we lose because of our own skills–not because of anybody else.”

his words tug a small smile out of the corner of the youngest’s lips, and hongjoong returns it with a relieved smile. with a nudge, he sends jongho in the direction of the door, where seonghwa pretends to ruffle his hair affectionately knowing that it will be dodged. seonghwa chuckles lightly and watches him walk off, unbeknownst to his captain watching him.

“hey,” hongjoong calls out gently, “i know what you’re thinking, but that wasn’t what i meant.”

seonghwa looks back and winces, “i can’t help it.”

“and that’s why i will keep telling you no matter how many times you need to hear it. it is not your fault–never was, and never will be,” hongjoong cocks his head playfully as he raises an eyebrow.

“same goes to you then, captain,” seonghwa returns the banter, shoulders relaxing and head shaking, “not your fault either.”

“you’re right, so let’s get the fuck out there and smash our game, yeah?” hongjoong slings his arm around the other and leads them both out of the locker room to join the rest of the boys.

what he does not say, though, is that seonghwa is wrong. seonghwa may have been the one to reach out to coach yeon, but hongjoong was the one who made the executive decision to accept and trust coach yeon.

he is not going to make the same mistake twice this time, because it is not just about protecting his dreams, his career, or those of his teammates–it is about protecting the people he loves.

hongjoong will not let them fall…not again.

winter, 2018: regular season

jongho twirls his phone in his hand, intermittently turning the screen on and off. he sits in the corner of the locker room, away from the rest of the boys as they wait for coach yeon to return from checking in and filling out their required paperwork. only several competitions later will they realise that their locker room is small, cramped and dim, but to their fresh, bright-eyed excitement at competing in a professional league for the first time, they hardly have time to critique the assigned space.

the phone comes to a stop. making up his mind, jongho taps on the screen and navigates to the keypad. dialling his mother’s number, he brings the phone up to his ear and waits with bated breath as it is left to ring.

“what do you want,” comes her curt response when she finally picks up.

jongho’s words falter, “oh, nothing…i just wanted to tell you that we’re playing our first game today.”

“game? your little team doesn’t even have a coach,” his mother patronises.

shoulders curling in on themselves, jongho hesitantly voices, “i told you last month that we got a coach.”

“i forgot,” she brushes him off, “and it must not be a very important competition then, seeing as it isn’t worth remembering.”

“there’s prize money,” he reveals. maybe if he can bring some of it home for his parents, they will recognise his efforts.

she sceptically probes, “is it national? international?”

“no…regionals.”

“is it ranked at least?”

“it’s just an entry-level competition for rookie teams,” jongho trails off, discouraged and confidence in shambles.

his mother scoffs at his answers, none of which are the ones she wants to hear. “you have no excuse not to win this competition, then. this is child’s play. just look at jonghyuk. he’s two years younger than you, yet already has his eyes on the olympics. if you lose, i don’t want to hear about it–don’t bring shame to our family.”

“okay,” jongho mumbles, but his answer is only heard by the beeping dial of the ended call…and the rest of the boys it seems, if not apparent by the sombre hush that has settled over the room and the worried lips that he sees when he looks up.

yeosang’s mouth parts, the younger’s name on the tip of his tongue, but then coach yeon enters the locker room and calls for their attention. jongho gives them a reassuring smile before setting his phone beside him on the bench and directing his gaze to their coach, grateful for the distraction. it leaves yeosang and the others with no choice but to drop it for now.

coach yeon erases the old scribbles on the room’s whiteboard and replaces it with rough markings of the hockey rink. he drags the magnets into the different zones, each one representative of a player, as he goes over the final lineup and their respective positions based on the opposing team they have been pooled against.

“stay strong on the offensive and maintain a 2-1-2 formation where possible–yeosang, i want you up there with hongjoong and put pressure on the other team. if they gain puck possession, both of you fall back to where wooyoung is and maintain 3-2.”

the three forwards nod and coach yeon touches one of the magnets positioned on the player’s bench. “jongho, you’ll come on for your shift during the second period. whoever you replace will come back in later to sub the other wing. yeosang and wooyoung, you should both be playing again during the third period.”

“yes, coach,” jongho acknowledges.

coach yeon continues on to review their game plan and hongjoong steps up to assist with detailing their different strategic plays. to jongho though, their words sound like he is listening from underwater as his mind involuntary drifts off. it is a small saving grace that his parents do not care for his match, because it means that they will not see that he is not part of the starting lineup.

for seven of the people in the locker room, winning the competition is an aspiration, but for one of them it is an expectation. and for the remaining individual, the competition in itself is an opportunity, but for an entirely different reason.

winter, present: regular season

inevitably, you find out. when discrepancies start to occur between training, pre-game meetings and the actual games, it is only a matter of time before you start to notice them.

it starts off with the uncommon plays that are simply a response to the game situation–ones that are dire and not often brought up prior to them actually occurring. during their fourth regular game of the season, the red devils are behind by two goals. the last period is almost over when they miraculously gain the power advantage after two of the opposing players are sent to the penalty box in quick succession.

before you realise what is happening, hongjoong gives his team a signal and both yunho and mingi on defence and san in the goal all rush forward to attack with the wings. you can only watch with wide eyes as they risk an empty net in the hopes of scoring two much-needed goals to even the playing field.

wooyoung manages to score one with a quick shot, but with the release of the opponents from the penalty box, their advantage is put to an end and they ultimately finish the match with a loss. you do not dwell too much on their sudden change in tactics despite the lack of communication with you, because you understand that every single game requires a different approach. sometimes, there is no time to strategise, only time to act.

but one occurrence turns into two, and two turns into several. and when, during one of their matches the week prior, jongho and wooyoung swap positions on the left and right sides of the rink as soon as the youngest replaces yeosang’s shift, it becomes quite conclusive that they are deliberately withholding information from you.

the boys are not brainless. it is not a coincidence for you and the team to discuss one game plan in the locker room only for it to completely change the moment they step onto the hockey rink.

you silently watch as the boys prepare for a faceoff in their defensive zone. they are currently playing against the incheon bears and the timing of the penalty puts you all on edge; the score is currently tied four to four and only twelve seconds are left on the clock. you had requested a time-out right as the referee made the call in hopes of stopping the momentum of the opposing team and to tell the boys to play defensively for this faceoff.

“play it safe. stall for the last twelve seconds and drag the game into overtime,” you had ordered.

the incheon bears have made a shift change with their player number four coming on for the faceoff, their right wing who has low stamina but terrifyingly accurate shots. he is responsible for most of his team’s goals and several other scoring attempts that san had only just managed to block. you are also almost certain that they will be aggressively body checking your players to make this faceoff count for them. your forwards have to play safely–not just for the sake of the game’s score.

at your defensive suggestion, san had nodded in agreement with you, “forwards need to make passes with sure lanes–nothing that can risk getting intercepted. go for the reverse setup play if you guys can.”

“we don’t need to take this into overtime,” hongjoong had started to argue, “other than number four, the rest of their offence is weak. as long as we break past him, we have an opportunity to score.”

“captain–”

the whistle blows before mingi can give his two cents, the mere thirty seconds for the time-out far too short, and the boys hurry to enter the rink again. hongjoong leans in quickly to say something to them before they disperse into their positions and mingi glances at you, almost guiltily.

you do not have the confidence that your team will listen. san may have seen the advantages in favouring a defensive play, but he is not the one who will decide which direction the puck will go when the referee drops it onto the ice. hongjoong is.

the hand of the referee raises to signal the start of the faceoff and both team’s centre forwards lower their stance. then the puck hits the ice. hongjoong’s nimble reflexes help him to snap his wrist and twist the puck away from the incheon bear’s player, wooyoung already surging ahead with explosive strides towards the other end of the rink. but just as you fear, the opponent’s left wing thunders at hongjoong with horrifying speed, intention solely to bowl him over onto the ice–not to steal the puck.

“fuck, captain!” you yell, heart leaping up into your throat as it cuts off your breath.

hongjoong’s eyes snap upwards and darken, jaws aching from the force with which he grinds his teeth together despite his mouthguard. he suddenly pivots on the edges of his skates and shifts his weight to only just narrowly miss the body check, then flicks the puck away before another player can knock him down.

he does not need to look before passing to where he knows wooyoung will be, years of synergy allowing their plays to connect seamlessly. except incheon bear’s number four has predicted their exact play, having been watching from the benches and noting your forwards’ preference for aggressive attacks.

“shit,” yunho curses under his breath, ice shaving under his skates from the accelerating force of his strides towards the puck. he is not going to make it in time. “mingi!”

seonghwa jolts up to his feet from the player’s bench, chest mid-inhale with apprehension at the captain’s pass. the puck is intercepted within the blink of an eye and with a well-timed punch turn around yunho’s attempt to regain possession, the rival team’s number four makes a shot for the goal.

it is too fast for mingi’s stick to block–arm still stretching out with desperation–and although san drops down to his knees in hopes of barricading the goal with his leg pads, the trajectory of the puck arcs higher than he had predicted.

as the puck soars past san and hits the netting of the goal, the buzzer sounds in tandem with the eruption of cheers around the rink. all around, the incheon bears swarm towards their number four in joyous celebration. mingi leans over to rest his hands on his knees from both exhaustion and defeat, and the other boys stand in similar stances as the outcome of the game registers in their tired minds.

in an attempt to cheer them up despite his own disappointment, seonghwa half-heartedly smiles at his boys as they slowly start to trudge their way off the rink. “we played well, boys. it was unlucky that our pass got intercepted, but we can do better next time.”

“good thing it isn’t the playoffs yet,” yunho tries to joke, “so we’re still in the competition.”

nobody cracks a smile and wooyoung’s face is dark, hand grabbing the walls in support to favour his left foot whilst lifting his skates over the slight ledge of the bench door. noting his slight limp, san quietly murmurs in worry, “did you tape your ankle?”

wooyoung shakes his head. “i ran out. forgot to buy some yesterday.”

“make sure you ice it tonight then, okay?” san gently supports him by the elbow to the benches so they can loosen the laces of their skates and grab their things before heading to the locker room.

you look away to flip through the notebook in your hand instead, trying to calm the shaking of your hands. ice hockey is a contact sport and you cannot protect the players from every single collision, but that last body check that hongjoong had been unprepared for still has acid pooling into your mouth. you scratch the score ‘4-5’ onto a page filled with their scores from this season thus far. a quick calculation tells you that the red devils have just as many losses as they have wins, which in all honesty, is not looking good.

this…conflict needs to be cleared with the team–with hongjoong. you cannot let this concealment of tactics and blatant changing of strategies right in your face continue any longer, because at the rate they are going, they may not even make it into the playoffs. and as you make eye contact with san, who has been staring despondently at the puck that still lies in his goal, you know that you must clear the air for the team, too. the last thing you need is for their own teamwork to fall apart because their differing opinions on your coaching starts to drive a wedge between them.

san stills when you break your gaze and glance away to pivot on your heels in the direction of the changerooms. from the way your mouth thins and neck becomes rigid, he is quite certain you are not happy—and rightfully so, san must admit. he stalls time by slipping off his bulky gloves and freeing his hands up to remove his helmet and mouthguard too.

noting that the other boys have grabbed most of their belongings, san heads off first to meet you, knowing that they will follow him soon after. he walks down the corridor easily balancing on his skates and rounds the corner to their locker room. except the sight that greets him has his feet halting and taking a step back behind the doorway.

your hand is deep in one of their bags. san is unsure whose bag it is, but the brief glimpse of the black canvas bag he caught is enough to tell him that it is one of theirs. although he is not making any accusations, he also cannot think of a reason as to why you would be rummaging through their bags.

“why are you just standing there?”

jongho’s voice startles him and he mumbles, “nothing,” before stepping through the door with the rest of his team. you are sitting on a bench in front of an empty locker now and if he did not know better, san would think that he had imagined the last minute. he glances discreetly at the bag you had been poking through and recognises it as wooyoung’s.

gingerly seating himself in front of his own locker, san waits on edge as mingi also grasps the atmosphere and sits too. gradually, the boys read the room with tactful glances and linger on their feet or on the benches. all except for one.

“what was that?” you cut through the silence with a directed question at hongjoong.

the captain continues to toss his gloves into his unzipped bag at the bottom of his locker before proceeding to unlace his skates, not once turning to look at you.

“what was what?”

you know fully well that he is aware of what you are talking about but you decide to humour him as you elaborate, “that last faceoff. i clearly told you to play defensively, but you went against it to try for a goal. and let me guess, you told the others to ignore what i said.”

“and so what if i did?” hongjoong challenges. yeosang’s wide eyes dart from side to side and yunho watches on uneasily as his captain finally turns to glare at you. “in that moment–as a player on the rink–i saw the opportunity and took it. if there is a chance to attack, then my team takes it. we don’t run away like cowards.”

the successive jabs at your athletic retirement cause a lick of phantom heat to wrap around your shoulder. your jaw grinds as you hold yourself back from biting the bait. “then i’m curious as to what opportunity you saw every time you decided to withhold game tactics from me, or every time you changed the strategy the moment you and your team stepped foot onto the rink.”

“maybe we would respect and listen to your coaching if it actually suited the playing style of our team. heavy defence may have worked for the grey eagles, but i think you need to reevaluate your abilities as a coach because it seems like you are forgetting that we are not them. forcing us to play defensively like your past team is not going to work for shit, coach,” hongjoong mocks.

you scoff to the side, questioning your own ears. it borders on a laugh, because that is his reason? you have been adjusting their playing style not only based on the situation that arises each game, but in general for their own good. earning his respect be damned, you will not stand for this.

you return the same scornful tone, “well then, captain, considering you just lost the fucking match because you were too arrogant to defend for twelve fucking seconds, i think you should also reevaluate yourself. are you acting in the best interest of your team, or are you acting in the way that best strokes your own ego? and let me remind you–if you suffer an injury, your whole team suffers with you.

“if you do not have the decency to at least tell me what you have discussed with the boys so that i can adjust the plays accordingly, then i think the shit results of your games so far speak for themselves. teams have a coach for a reason whether you like it or not…or maybe i should say, whether you trust them or not,” you snap.

running your stressed fingers through your hair, you tear your eyes away from hongjoong’s defiant eyes. the two youngest avoid your gaze, whereas yunho and yeosang simply stare at you with their jaws slack at a loss for words. the fire within you almost quenches when your eyes skim over san, mingi and even seonghwa, who are fiddling with their jerseys with guilt.

the room suddenly feels too small and too stuffy. “change. the bus will be waiting outside,” you mumble, then you leave without a further word.

nobody in the room moves in the wake of the argument, not even hongjoong, who continues to bore holes in the doorway that you have just disappeared through. yunho’s eyes awkwardly dart back and forth between hongjoong and the other boys before they land on the bench you had been sitting on.

the notebook you are always holding is still there, left behind in your haste to leave. he stands up to grab it, turning on his heels to chase after you when the open pages catch his eye. “woah,” yunho breathes out, double-taking and bringing the notebook closer towards him to read the contents. “this is insane.”

you have marked down not only their score for every single game they have played this season, but you have also tracked the statistics of who has scored, assisted, or successfully defended a shot. yunho flips back through the pages as the other boys come to crowd around him. there are logs of their major games from the past five years, diagrams of their faceoff plays and formations, analyses of their strengths in games won and similarly, analyses of their weaknesses in games they have lost.

“oh, fuck,” mingi curses when yunho flips to the more recent pages and they see that you have compiled the same details and information, only more concisely, for every single opponent team the red devils have played against this season. there is no way of seeing this–hours upon hours of hard work–and still questioning your intentions as their coach. “i think we owe coach a huge fuckin’ apology.”

hongjoong immediately furrows his eyebrows with displeasure. “are you taking her side, mingi?”

“captain,” mingi deliberately calls. it is at times like this where being the only logical thinker in the team has its merits. it may be harsh, but mingi must draw the line between their professional and personal life. this dispute must stay strictly within the bounds of their career without blurring the lines over into their romantic involvement with one another, otherwise things could get messy real fast.

mingi stares at the captain as he reasons, “this isn’t about taking sides. from a solely rational point of view, i think it may have been better for us to play safe and defend like coach had suggested.”

from beside him, san nods in agreement. mingi continues, “and i’m not just talking about today–there were a lot of times when coach’s plays might have worked out better than bulldozing ahead with offence. yeah, we’ve won a few games but we’ve also lost just as many. how many of those could we have won if we had trusted coach?”

yunho backs him up whilst gesturing vaguely between the both of them and san, “it’s easier for the three of us to see from defence, but their forwards were already close to intercepting our faceoffs quite a few times that game.”

hongjoong’s immediate thought is to defend himself, because he is their captain and their centre forward; the one who leads them into opportunities to score and win. he knows that every single time he chooses an aggressive play, it is at the risk of weaker defence. the odds have never deterred him, though, because he has always been confident in his abilities–in his team’s abilities.

but if, even now with the palpable experience of losing because of his own decision, it still does not deter him from taking risks in a situation where offence may be his downfall, then is he confident…or overconfident?

it is quiet for a moment. hongjoong swallows the urge to justify against their opinions–against your opinions–instead looking around at his team. he meets jongho’s round eyes and he remembers one of the very reasons why he is so committed to leading the red devils to the gold trophy. why, if he is becoming a hurdle instead to their victory, then he needs to change. “what does everybody else think? seonghwa?”

“we’ve been wary of y/n all this time, but the more games we play and especially after…” the alternate captain vaguely gestures in the air, “...today, we should really work with her instead of relying on ourselves. we’ve seen her notebook, too, and i think that’s more than enough for us to see that the effort and resolve she places in our team is genuine. we need to acknowledge that and apologise.”

“not even coach cho went to these lengths, and most definitely not coach yeon,” yeosang shrugs as he offhandedly comments.

spurred on by everybody else, san carefully voices the thought that has been lingering on his mind, “i think it’s time to tell her the truth. we owe her that much.”

the truth. the wounds that not even coach cho knows of.

hongjoong’s distrust in you may have initially been true to his desire to protect his boys from something like that from happening again. but he is now realising that you may have seen right through him. perhaps at some point in time, it became unwillingness to trust you, blinded by his prideful title as the demon king of the ice rink but at the expense of his team under the guise of wanting to safeguard them.

exhaling shakily, voice thick with regret, hongjoong accepts, “i’ve let you all down, haven’t i?”

“no,” yunho gently rebukes. “letting us down would be refusing to listen to us. we trust you for a reason, hongjoong.”

not just as a captain, but as everything else too.

seonghwa wraps an arm comfortingly around him. with hongjoong’s demonic presence on the ice once he is in the zone, it is easy to forget that he actually has a shorter stature than all of them. “that’s right, we trust you,” seonghwa affirms. “the next step is for us to trust our coach as well. we’re a team, but it isn’t complete without our coach.”

“and this apology isn’t yours alone to bear,” yunho reminds. “like seonghwa said, we’re a team and we all have fault in our behaviour towards y/n. if i’m honest, i had a shitty attitude and gave her a hard time at the start too,” he admits, wincing at the memory.

yunho is not the only one who grimaces as they reflect on their own actions–whether they happened when you were first introduced to the team, during your first training together, or even up until today’s game. but wooyoung, who has been quiet throughout the entire ordeal, still has a niggling doubt: one that is most personal to him in comparison to the rest of the team.

wooyoung reveals his thoughts, “but what about her choice to stop playing? i still can’t think of a good reason that i can respect her for having retired.”

“then we ask her,” mingi proposes.

jongho nods, also curious to know whether there is more to your decision than you have let on. “today, though? we don’t really want to come off as accusatory or anything. it might be good to give her some space today.”

“what’s our schedule looking like tomorrow? training?”

everyone looks at seonghwa, the most likely person to know their schedule off by heart. he does, and he scratches his head as he recalls, “no, recovery day. low-intensity cardio in the morning and…a team meeting with coach in the afternoon.”

“tomorrow it is, then,” hongjoong concludes. there are hums of agreement and the decision appears to appease wooyoung enough for the boys to start dispersing, heading to their lockers to finally start changing out of their gear.

wooyoung tosses his helmet and gloves onto the bench in front of his locker before sitting with a sharp but discreet inhale. he carefully loosens the laces on his skates, easing the left one off his foot slowly. the relief is immediate and his fingertips gingerly touch the throbbing area around his ankle. it is not too swollen, but he will need to ice it when they get back to their apartment and he will definitely need to buy more tape.

he sheds off the rest of his gear and uniform, leaving them on the bench too to air out while he takes a quick shower. as he roughly towels his wet hair afterwards, he drags his kit bag further out to make it easier to toss everything in.

“huh?” wooyoung makes a noise of confusion when he unzips the bag, hand immediately reaching in to grab the item that has caught his eye. it is partially covered by his hoodie but he would be able to recognise the packaging anywhere.

“what’s wrong?” san asks, glancing over.

the younger brandishes the brand new roll of strapping tape he has found in his bag, the frown etched across his face slowly relaxing into amused exasperation as he reasons, “i must not have seen this in my bag all along.”

san is about to snort and make fun of his inattentiveness, but a sudden thought stuns the smile off his face. it was not that wooyoung had managed to miss the spare roll in his bag. it was–

“y/n,” he quietly exhales with realisation.

at wooyoung’s questioning what?, san looks at him with upturned eyebrows. “the tape–coach was the one who put it in your bag, right before we all walked in here.”

“this…she gave it to me?” wooyoung’s face drops, remorse evident in the thickness of his voice. “but why?”

san gently squeezes his shoulder with a smile, simply answering, “because she’s our coach.” he turns to zip up his own kit bag and leaves wooyoung to digest the revelation. the boy is quiet for the rest of the time, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he stares ahead and absentmindedly follows the rest of his team out of the locker room.

when they exit the ice arena, they do not expect to see you. and yet, there you stand beside their bus waiting stonily with your jacket zipped up and hands in your pockets. you mentally count them off without acknowledging them as they start to store their kit bags under the bus and board. yeosang gets on first, taking a seat near the front of the bus as usual. he watches from the window as you wait for the rest of the boys.

you follow jongho up the stairs, the last to load his kit bag, and tell the driver that you are all good to leave. yeosang sits a little straighter as he tucks his small backpack further under the seat in front of him with his feet, having left the seat beside him empty. but before he can open his mouth with an offer of a seat, you have already sat right behind the driver. yeosang leans back into the cushions of his seat, unfamiliar with the sense of disappointment he feels.

the ride back from the competition venue–much less after a lost game–is always quiet, players both physically and mentally exhausted from the strain. this time, though, it is strikingly silent, but you appreciate it–need it.

you stare out of the window as the trees flicker past like a repetitive motion film. most of their leaves have already fallen off, littering the ground in a blur of tragic glory. and with the beginning of winter, the trees will soon become completely bare, bringing about the period of time when there is nothing but bleak emptiness.

winter, 2019: regular season

‘2019 ice hockey rookie stars tournament: team standings’

hongjoong stares at the printed piece of paper with seonghwa at his side, where the results of all the team’s round-robin games have been taped up onto the walls of the stadium. hongjoong does not even bother reading from the top, eyes going straight down to the bottom of the page instead.

the red devils are dead last, having lost every single one of their matches. even the korean penguins, who had nil wins either, had managed to beat them earlier today, ranking them at the lowest of all teams. it is fucking humiliating and hongjoong hates that the sport that had brought him and his boys all together, that they had immeasurable love for, is now one that fills them with shame and indignity.

nobody else but the two captains of the team have decided to look at the rankings. they had all already known towards the end of the regular season that they would not stand a chance at making it into the playoffs. and yet, hongjoong and seonghwa need to see the results for themselves. it is almost masochistic, forcing themselves to look at the fruitless results of their hard work in their first competition that has so devastatingly crushed their morality.

seonghwa picks at his cuticles fretfully and wonders whether he made the wrong decision to give up his education in pursuit of becoming an athlete. he thinks of his parents, who had encouraged him with supportive smiles and offers of financial support the moment he brought up the idea–was it all in vain?

“are you two done looking?”

both of the boys turn at the question to find a captain with his team waiting to look at the standings.

“yeah, sorry,” hongjoong mumbles before stepping aside to yield his spot. the players swarm forwards and he is pushed further back away from the list like a physical representation of his distance from the playoffs.

somebody from the other team yells, “we made it! we’re in the playoffs!” and they simultaneously break out into cries and cheers as they celebrate together.

hongjoong watches on bitterly, wishing with every cell in his body that that was him and his boys. how is he going to walk back into the locker room as their captain when all of his boys have eyes that are rimmed red and cheeks that are blotchy from despair–when there are captains like that who have successfully led their team to at least a chance at winning the competition.

the feeling of a pinky slowly hooking around his own draws hongjoong out of his pain. “let’s go back,” seonghwa murmurs, tugging him away from the still-celebrating team. together, both of them start to walk back through the hallways to their locker room.

“aren’t we down here?” seonghwa questions, standing at the t-intersection that hongjoong has absentmindedly walked straight past.

“oh, yeah. sorry,” hongjoong apologises and begins to backtrack. his ears suddenly perk up at the sound of a voice. “wait, doesn’t that sound like coach?”

before seonghwa can respond, hongjoong has turned around yet again towards the voice in search of their coach. seonghwa hurries to catch up and that is when he hears it too.

“have you transferred the money?”

“yes, i wired you the remaining amount the moment we won,” a deeper, unrecognisable voice reassures.

hongjoong’s footsteps falter, brows knitting together and head cocking to one side. he gestures for seonghwa to slow down, pressing a finger on his other hand to his lips. both of them creep forward silently.

the unfamiliar voice probes, “your team–you’re sure they don’t suspect anything?”

hongjoong and seonghwa do not need to see him to confirm their suspicions when they hear the unmistakable laughter of coach yeon. through the gravelly sound, he mocks, “they have no fucking clue even though they’ve lost every single one of their games. they’re dumber than fucking sheep. their captain tells me everything about their plays and strategies and they never question it when i change things around.”

seonghwa clutches the back of hongjoong’s jersey with a death grip, knowing that without it, his captain will punch coach yeon’s face into a bloody mess. but as much as their coach deserves it, it is not worth the disciplinary action that will inevitably follow, likely suspension, because–

“plus, even if they do somehow find out, what can they do about it? bullshit, that’s what. they have no evidence and they’re not going to risk blowing this up and ruining their own careers instead,” coach yeon boasts smugly. “losing like that as a rookie group in their first year out is completely normal. no one will believe them, and no coach is going to want their team after that because of their ‘shitty sportsmanship’ or out of fear of being accused in the same way if they lose again.”

at coach yeon’s words, seonghwa scrambles to put them into context with his dread-riddled mind. the echoing pounding in his ears tells him that he has just heard something that was never meant to be known. he does not even notice that the voices start to grow distant as the two men begin to walk off, but hongjoong does.

the trembling grip that is still on the back of his jersey grounds hongjoong enough not to throw everything away and sprint up to coach yeon with vile words and heated fists, but he also cannot do nothing. hongjoong peers around the corner before seonghwa can counteract his movement, desperate to identify who exactly coach yeon is talking to. except the revelation has him reeling, hands white from how hard his fingers dig into his palm–a stark contrast to the deep scarlet of flames that leap forth from his murderous eyes.

because the person who is walking beside coach yeon is the coach of the korean penguins. hongjoong and his boys have not been losing because of their skills they believed to be fucking shit–coach yeon has been fucking ensuring they lose.

for money.

winter, present: regular season

you stand on the balcony of your apartment. the sliding glass doors are shut behind you to keep the heat trapped inside, but for now you welcome the refreshing cold of the winter chill as you simply observe.

below on the streets, the miniature specks of people and cars mill around as if you are watching a game simulation. it is strangely humbling to think that each and every one of the people you see are living their own lives, completely distinct to yours with different yet very real problems of their own, but in the grand scheme of the cosmos, you are all insignificant.

you wonder what concern the people holding their coffee are plagued with right now; what problem the people crossing the street are facing. you wonder, if you were to tell them of your worries and they were to tell you of theirs, would you curse or thank the heavens?

the phone in your hand buzzes. you look to see if it is from coach cho and manage a small smile of relief when the notification is indeed from him.

apologies y/n, i was busy earlier. i can call now if you still need me?

you send an affirmative reply, then slide to answer the call that comes through. “hi coach, sorry to bother you.”

“no, you’re alright. is everything okay?”

you hesitate before revealing, “...i messed things up with the boys.”

“the team?” his voice goes gentle, fatherly nature extending to you too. “what happened?”

“hongjoong and i had an argument today after the game because he keeps changing the team’s plays without letting me know, or even after we’ve agreed on something else. it was only meant to be a talk, but then things escalated and we ended up fighting. i just–i don’t know what you saw in me, coach, because i don’t think i’m fit for the boys,” you ramble. “they’re not listening to me, they probably don’t even like me, and we’re going terribly with the season.”

you take a breath as you timidly admit, “i don’t think we’re going to make it into the playoffs and it’s going to be my fault.”

“hey,” coach cho grounds you, “making the playoffs would be great, yes, but the reality is that most teams don’t. and you’re still very young yourself–this is your, what…fifth year of coaching?”

throat too sticky to formulate a response, you simply hum.

“when i first started coaching, i was older than you and it was still a steep learning curve during my first ten years. i believed that coaches deserved the utmost respect and that my opinion was final. they’re my players, so of course i should be the one laying down the laws,” he chuckles. “but growing up was realising that whilst the respect is still there, it needs to be mutual. coaching a team is not a hierarchy of ‘i command, you listen’, but a show of leadership with the captain at the front of the team–not on top of them.”

his words strike a chord within you. coaching the boys was frustrating because they were not listening to you. but it should never have been a case of who listens to who–it should always have been a reciprocated relationship of everyone listening to one other.

as if he can physically feel the guilt that is starting to settle in the pit of your stomach, coach cho draws your attention to something else. “remember what i told you when we met the team for the first time? why i chose you specifically?”

“because of our similar playing styles?” you recall.

“exactly,” he confirms, “you know best the strategies and plays that work, and what their strengths and weaknesses are, because they were also your own. you need to be a coach to their playing style, not the other way around–they shouldn’t be a player to your coaching style.”

you cannot help but worry, “what if they get injured?”

“y/n, this is where your similarities can either be your biggest flaw or your greatest asset as a coach. no matter how safely they play, there will always be a risk of injury. that is just how the sport works and you know that the best. you can teach them to assess the risk and pull back if they really need to, but ultimately, there is no way of eliminating the risk completely.” coach cho pauses, then asks, “if you could meet your younger self, would you make yourself change your playing style?”

would you? as you imagine what you would tell your past self if you had the chance to, you find that you do not have an answer. perhaps for the sake of a prolonged career, you would. but then would it be your passion and skills that are playing the game, or your fears and worries?

if you cannot come to a decision even for yourself, then it is completely unfair for you to restrain the boys within the cages of what you view as safety for their own good. harnessing the defensive skills may have been functional for the grey eagles, but like hongjoong said, you are coaching the red devils now and it is not working for them. you must come to terms that you cannot protect the boys at every opportunity–consciously or unconsciously–you need to be a coach to them.

coach cho, aware that you have come to a conclusion, asks you one final question, “have you told the boys why you retired?”

“no, not yet,” you shake your head. you already have an idea of what he is going to say to you next.

“i think it’s time for you to tell them,” he advises. “remember, y/n, sometimes you need to be vulnerable with them first before you can make things right.”

after coach cho ends the call, you do not make a move to go back inside the apartment. you stay standing on your balcony, arms folded as you lean against the handrail listening to the faint rumble of traffic and hustle of busy activity. life goes on, and so will yours; you just have to make it count.

the trees on the streets may be stripped bare and lonely throughout winter, but eventually you learn to appreciate its nothingness. it is a necessity in order to start afresh.

mingi stares at the blinking cursor that sits in the open search bar. it has been empty for the last twenty minutes since he started up his laptop, wondering whether it would be an invasion of privacy for him to look you up on the internet.

he makes up his mind. he knows that he was the one to tell wooyoung only mere hours ago that they would ask you about your decision to retire tomorrow at the meeting, but mingi supposes it would not hurt to simply see what sort of athlete you were like before.

typing your full name into the search engine, mingi hits ‘enter’ and waits for the results to appear. he combs through the first several links quickly. they all have the same information; ice hockey databases and websites that detail your age, nationality, physical stats and position, but the sections that usually list your team and agency are now blank.

mingi is surprised to learn you were also a centre forward. he scrolls down to your game logs and match statistics that span from 2014 to 2019. you have won an impressive number of championships, most notably the under-18 and under-21 women’s ice hockey league. they are both international competitions and mingi is not sure how your reputation has flown under all of their radars.

frowning, he goes back to the search engine and clicks on the next page in an attempt to find more information. it is not until he clicks yet again to the next page that he finds a low-reputed news article from almost eight years ago where you are the main subject.

‘y/n l/n, youngest player of ‘black cats’, wins ice hockey championship at the age of sixteen’ the headline reads. there is not much to the article, but it outlines your admirable achievement at your young age as a rising prodigy in the ice hockey scene. mingi agrees, since he knows that you also go on to win another international competition a few years after that. just as he is about to close the tab, there is a recommended link that catches his eye.

he hovers his cursor over it. the hyperlinked headline does not explicitly say your name, but the phrasing really only alludes to one athlete considering it is a recommended link on your article. mingi does not know whether he wants to click on it, though, because he is afraid of confirming it is you.

and if it is…then the others will also need to see this too.

“hongjoong, guys, come look at this,” mingi calls out, balancing his laptop on his forearm as he walks out into the open living room. the others look up from where they are sitting or emerge from out of their rooms at his summon.

“what’s this?” hongjoong reaches out to receive the laptop and places it on the table. his eyes skim the screen, trying to make sense of what mingi is showing them.

mingi points to the hyperlink he had been mulling over. “i think we need to look at this.”

solemnity washes over the boys as their curious gazes dull and darken, realisation of what exactly they are reading dawning upon them. all at once, their hearts clench in solidarity. hongjoong clicks on the link. the only sound that permeates the silence is the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. nobody talks. nobody moves.

ice hockey star announces retirement following shoulder injury june 18, 2019 star player y/n l/n, centre forward of the ‘black cats’, has announced her retirement from professional ice hockey today. her decision follows lingering issues after suffering from a rotator cuff tear during the grand finals of this year’s under-21 women’s ice hockey league. l/n has been under the ice hockey spotlight ever since her win in the under-18’s league as the youngest player on her team. she is well-known for her offensive threat to the opponents, bold playing style and unparalleled skill breaking through the lines of defence. during the grand finals in april, l/n was body checked from the side by ‘polar bears’’ kim hyejin. although full-body checking is illegal in women’s hockey, it is not uncommon during the heat of competitions. l/n suffered a severe right rotator cuff tear and is reported to have received open surgery last month. l/n did not provide further details about her recovery, however stated that she plans to focus on her physical rehabilitation in the meantime.

the glare of the screen stares back at the boys as they finally understand exactly why you had retired and why you had come back as a coach–you were unable to fully step away from the sport you so loved with your entire life.

“coach wasn’t telling us to play defensively at all the crucial times just for the sake of the game strategy…” seonghwa grasps.

“...but because she didn’t want the same thing to happen to us,” hongjoong finishes. one of your heated remarks during your argument with him suddenly resounds in his mind: and let me remind you–if you suffer an injury, your whole team suffers with you. you had been reliving your own demons every single time hongjoong and his boys were playing aggressively on the ice. “fuck,” he mutters.

mingi leans down a little. “wait, see if there are any other articles about this.”

fingers dancing across the keyboard, hongjoong opens up a new tab. another quick search of your name with the keywords ‘injury’ and ‘retirement’ yields no further articles. mingi is certain you would have had more media coverage considering you had suffered an injury at the rising peak of your prodigious career, so he finds it strange that there is close to no information about this.

“it almost looks as if somebody had the articles purged from the internet,” mingi observes.

jongho nods with furrowed brows, “maybe y/n? but why would she go to the length to remove them?”

“i mean, wooyoung didn’t exactly go around flaunting off his injury to the media. maybe she didn’t want the attention anymore,” yeosang guesses.

yunho nudges wooyoung playfully as he comments, “no offence to you, but none of us are exactly famous enough for the media to take interest in our injuries.”

“i think the real question is why coach didn’t tell us that her injury was the reason why she stopped playing,” seonghwa wonders, “it was never really a choice like she made it out to be.”

none of them know the answer. hongjoong slowly closes the laptop, exhaling deeply, “we’ve got a lot of things to clear up tomorrow…and a lot of apologising. i’m going to sleep early. you all should too.”

with that, he gets out of his seat and disappears into his bedroom. hongjoong’s mind is heavy and crowded and he knows he is going to be awake for a while.

nobody sleeps well that night. especially wooyoung.

spring, 2023: playoffs

“what do you mean i can’t compete in the playoffs?”

“you have a fractured ankle, wooyoung. the playoffs are honestly the least of your concerns and if you keep straining yourself like this, it won’t just be the playoffs that you can’t compete in–it’ll be the rest of your life,” coach cho admonishes.

“but this is our first proper championship, coach,” wooyoung begs, “you have to let me play.”

coach cho hates that he has to say no and if he could swap ankles with his player, he would do so in a heartbeat. “this isn’t a choice. you physically cannot play. what are you going to do out there on the ice? crawl?”

“fuck, coach, you don’t understand. it was so hard for us to get to this point. this means everything to me, fuck, please,” wooyoung pleads between heaving breaths.

“i’m sorry, wooyoung,” coach cho apologises, leaving no further room for argument as the other boys divert their gazes to the floor.

hongjoong gently squeezes wooyoung’s shoulder. “the doctor said that your cast can come off in about eight weeks and if it’s looking good, you can gradually join in on any light training when it’s off-season.”

wooyoung does not care because in eight week’s time the playoffs will already be over. he knows he is being unreasonable and that there is no chance he will be able to set foot in an ice rink within the next two months. but his heart and mind are operating separately and the only thing his heart can see is the opportunity of playing in the championships slipping right out of his grasp.

he is already angry at himself for getting injured in the first place but it is not enough to quell wooyoung’s raging inferno. so he does the only thing he can think of in the moment–he spits out his anger with a venomous, “i hate you all.”

it hurts the boys more to see wooyoung hurting and coach cho speaks up on their behalf, “i would rather you hate us now than for you to hate yourself in the future because you traded decades of your career for this one playoff.”

wooyoung jerks his head away defiantly, but they know he is only trying to hide his tears. unable to watch any longer, san moves in closer and pulls the younger into his arms.

“fuck off, san. i don’t need you.”

san swallows the hurt in his chest because he knows there is no truth behind wooyoung’s words. “i know you don’t,” he offers, “but i need you. so just let me stay.”

wooyoung’s body sags as all of the fight slips out of him in the form of shuddering sobs. san embraces him tightly, as if he has picked up all the pieces of the other and only a hug can make him whole again.

“i’m sorry,” wooyoung chokes out.

san shakes his head with reassuring hushes, “don’t be. you focus on recovering and we’ll take it from here.”

like that, wooyoung’s anger is quenched and the team goes on to compete in the playoffs without him. but in the absence of anger comes other emotions, jealousy and insecurity the ugliest of them all. wooyoung despises the bitter taste in his mouth as he sits on the player’s bench outside of the rink each game, only able to helplessly watch his team advance further in the playoffs without him.

and as much as wooyoung wants them to win, he also does not want them to win, because if they can win the championships without him playing as their left wing, then do they really need him at all? he never gets to find out the answer though. they lose in the quarter finals.

wooyoung does not tell anybody about the ill relief he feels…and he vows to take that secret with him to the grave.

winter, present: regular season

the moment you walk into kq’s meeting room, a rehearsed apology for the team on the tip of your tongue, you realise that something is off. not necessarily wrong, per se; just off.

all the boys are sitting around the table as usual, though the overhead projector that is routinely already set up with video footage of their recent games has been put on standby mode. but the thing that unconsciously makes your hackles rise is the expression they all nurse on their faces, strangely familiar yet foreign at the same time. it is familiar in the sense that people have looked at you this way in the past, but it is foreign in the sense that it has never come from the boys before.

“hi, coach,” hongjoong clears his throat awkwardly, opting to look at the wall behind you instead of your eyes as if even he knows this is the first time he has ever addressed you as such. “we had a…talk last night and thought we should probably clear up a few things before we discuss the actual games.”

although you share the same sentiment as they do, hongjoong’s words put you on guard. gingerly, you lower yourself into an empty seat across from him. “i also have a couple of things to say, but you guys start,” you cue.

hongjoong glances at seonghwa beside him, who in turn gives him a miniscule shrug. neither of them know how to bring it up with you as they are afraid of saying the wrong thing. thankfully, mingi steps in, not one to beat around the bush.

“why didn’t you tell us about your injury?” he asks directly.

with mingi’s question, you are suddenly able to place their expression. the boys look at you warily as if you are a wounded animal they are afraid will run away. you loathed the expression years ago when it was from your coach, your teammates and your family–the constant treading on eggshells around you with pitying eyes–and you still loathe it just as much as you do now.

your prickles emerge and your instinctive reaction is to deny it. you have kept your injury a secret up until now for a reason and the unexpected confrontation has all of your sirens blaring to keep it a secret. but then you remember coach cho’s advice–you remember the apology you had mulled over all night–and you force your prickles to retract.

you take a breath. coach cho would not have told them about your injury, so there is only one way the boys could have found out about it. “you read the articles, didn’t you?”

mingi at least has the decency to look sheepish as he admits, “one…but there weren’t any others.”

“i thought as much,” you mumble to yourself, smiling tightly. you choose not to think about how they came across the article. “i wanted them all removed and my agency managed to pull enough connections to sweep the articles under the rug, but i should have known that in this day and age it would be impossible to get rid of any media completely.”

the question remains as to why you have chosen to keep this hidden and also–

“why did you want them removed, though?” hongjoong furrows his brows.

you have faced countless demons in the last six years. the injury itself, the abrupt end to your golden days, and the forced reconciliation with the fact that you will never be able to play again. and yet, the demon that continues to haunt you to this day is the media spotlight that chases after you as if you are a circus animal.

you are unable to look at any of them in the eye as you finally bare yourself open to the boys. “the articles felt belittling and shameful–they still do. they made me feel less as an athlete then and they make me feel less as a coach now. i worked my heart and soul to get to where i was with the skills that i had, but you don’t understand just how crippling it is for all of that to be overshadowed by an injury. it was no longer a celebration of my achievements, simply because nobody cared anymore. it just became a fucking broken record of, ‘how does it feel to have fallen at the peak of your career?’

“then when i became a coach, it didn’t matter how well my team performed or how hard they worked to win the championships. the question became, ‘how does it feel to coach after being forced to retire because of your injury?’ no matter how hard i tried, i just could not escape the hellhole of my injury.”

guilt settles in the pit of mingi’s stomach as it also does for the others. they may not have written the article, but by consuming it and searching for more, they had unknowingly joined the faceless masses of those who had hurt you.

you dig your thumbs into the flesh of your thighs to stop your voice from shaking as you continue, “the media will not care for the achievements that myself or my players accomplish when there is something even better–a sob story. but i do not need that kind of pity. not from athletes, not from other coaches, and most definitely not from strangers silently pitying my life from behind their newspaper or screen when i did not ask for any of it. i made people forget and i kept this all hidden because my career, be it as a coach or a former athlete, does not deserve to be reduced to that kind of shit.”

the raw honesty behind your words strikes the boys silent. what they thought they had started to understand about you, they are now realising was barely the tip of the iceberg. seonghwa wonders for just how long you have left this wound bleeding and untreated. he calls out for you sadly, “coach, you should’ve told us.”

when you look up, you are surprised to find wetness brimming his eyes. you feel the hot rush of emotions build up behind your own eyes but from anger, because why is he upset? what reason does he have to cry when you are the one who has suffered all this time?

your voice is biting when you respond, “and have you look down on me like everybody else? i just said, i do not need your pity–”

“it’s not pity,” a voice interrupts firmly. of all people, you least expected it to come from wooyoung. his tone stays unyielding as he holds your gaze. “we’re athletes too, y/n.”

the way he includes you in the collective–as an athlete–has your glare softening immediately, replaced by the dangerous quivering of your bottom lip while he elaborates, albeit voice gentler now, “we are hurting for you–with you. it is not pity; it is standing by your side in hopes that we can help you up if you ever fall again.”

because it is okay to fall, and you will fall; wooyoung knows that the best.

you tilt your head upwards as you desperately blink back the tears that suddenly threaten to spill. the swell of emotions that had churned in your chest had not been anger but fatigue, you realise. wooyoung’s words give you sudden clarity that you are tired–of suffering alone and in silence. you want help.

“i’m tired of hurting,” you confess quietly.

“then let us share the hurt with you.”

the dam breaks and your tears fall freely down your cheeks. it starts off with a nod so miniscule that the boys think they have imagined it, but then slowly and surely, your head moves up and down with more conviction. “okay,” you whisper.

you had always thought that you had come to terms with your injury and the end of your career, but perhaps you are still mourning your loss…and perhaps that is okay. like looking into a time-warped mirror, wooyoung sees the fight slip out of your body with a sob as you apologise, “i’m sorry.”

san wants to cross the room and wrap his arms around you if it can take away even just a fraction of your hurt. but he knows that he cannot cross the boundaries of professionalism despite the intimate nature of the conversation right now, especially when you and the team are only just starting to patch things up. so instead, he opts to rub his thumb over the knuckles of wooyoung’s hand from under the table, which has slipped into his, hoping that one day he will be able to do the same for you.

“we understand,” hongjoong answers on their behalf, “you were doing what you needed to do in order to protect yourself.”

and if you do not realise that he says those words for himself and his team to hear too, then you will by the end of the conversation as you walk away with a newfound understanding of them.

“no, not just for that,” you shake your head, roughly swiping at your tears with the back of your hand. “it ended up negatively influencing the way i coached you guys, even if it was subconscious. i let my own trauma dictate how i wanted you to play: defensively all the time whether it was needed or not. hongjoong, you were right about me not coaching your team as your team.”

you try your damned hardest to keep your voice steady so that you can look at them properly to apologise, “i’m sorry i made it so hard to trust me as your coach.”

“okay, let me stop you right there,” yunho smiles gently, sliding a tissue box in your direction. “we were pricks too, so half the apology is ours.”

“don’t call her a prick,” seonghwa whispers. his horrified expression relaxes when you break out into a wet chuckle.

hongjoong is glad that you are able to find something to laugh about even with your cheeks still damp and blotchy, and he finds his mouth curling into a bittersweet smile. you have been honest and vulnerable with them and now it is their turn.

“we have something to tell you about our past coach,” he starts, drawing your gaze to him. “not coach cho–our very first coach. we’re not trying to justify that what we did as a result was okay, but…”

“but hopefully i can understand,” you finish when hongjoong hesitates. he nods and you mirror his action with a reassuring smile to encourage him to talk.

but irregardless of what they tell you, you already know that you want to understand them, because understanding is the first step to forgiving, and you want that too.

so with intermittent comments from the other boys, hongjoong reveals to you the hidden wounds they have been nursing. and as they tell you about coach yeon, how their trust in him had been misplaced, how he had betrayed it for money at the expense of their championship, and how they had then let that become mistrust in you and your reason for retiring, wooyoung finds himself quiet so that he can steal glances at you.

he can see it now. the untameable beast within you of passion for ice hockey that has been forcibly chained down to the ground with the weight of the earth. the devastating torment that must incessantly surge through you in the most debilitating waves, tenfold any anguish he felt when he was unable to compete in the playoffs. the blemished canvas of dark and ghastly emotions that you do not let see the light of day, yet continue to coexist in hidden silence.

it is there and then that wooyoung realises you and him may be more similar than he thought–that you may actually understand him better than any of his seven boys.

you stop the drill.

yeosang gracefully turns in an arc whilst keeping the puck close to his stick as hongjoong and seonghwa dig their skates into the ice to brake before their momentum takes out the younger.

“let’s have jongho try using the perimeter of the rink instead of passing to yeosang this time. start the faceoff again,” you instruct.

the chorus of responses that you receive are zealous, even slightly teasing as the boys lower their voices with a, “yes, coach!” and give you small salutes with their gloved hands. you cannot help but snort and shake your head, waving at them to retake their positions.

practice is short today, since your team has a game tomorrow. the first half an hour consisted of running through offensive formations for power plays and you are now focusing on defensive penalty kills. your two captains and wooyoung are playing as the mock opponents, preparing your remaining wings and defenseman for a situation where they are down a player.

hongjoong seems to mull over a thought as he looks at the formation of his boys. “you mentioned the team we’re playing against has a tendency to position their forwards higher up, didn’t you?” he asks and when you nod, he suggests, “what do you think about trying the diamond formation instead? might help close some of their shooting lanes.”

with the captain’s input, you reposition yeosang further up to form the tip of the diamond, and yunho too to cover the right point whilst jongho covers the left. mingi moves in a little closer to the goal to cover the bottom of the diamond and you make sure to point out the importance of his position.

“if the opportunity arises, we can transition into a counterattack instead with 3-1. but we’ll need to make sure we still cover the goal in case they turn it back over again–mingi, this will probably be you. support whoever has the puck from behind, but make sure you don’t go too far forward.”

mingi answers with an affirmative and yeosang passes the puck to hongjoong for him to commence the penalty kill. at your whistle, the rink explodes into action. wooyoung and seonghwa immediately split down the perimeters to open up shooting lanes for their captain, who passes the puck off to wooyoung the moment he has cleared half the rink. with a brief adjustment of the puck’s angle, he attempts a cross-ice pass to where seonghwa is free on the other side.

with astonishing speed, jongho intercepts the puck and yells, “3-1!” he continues to barrel forward with the momentum of his explosive acceleration towards the goal as yeosang anticipates a pass and yunho joins the counterattack rush to his right. the three of your players charge forwards with adrenaline as mingi covers them from behind. jongho chips the puck over hongjoong’s stick, which is immediately taken up by yeosang. without a goaltender, he finishes it off with an easy shot into the net.

the tempo and execution of the rush surprises not just you, but the boys themselves too, who are tapping their sticks together with elated excitement at the success of the play. it may only be a simulated practice drill, but you still share in the same pride and contentment that hongjoong’s face glows at you with.

he cocks his head to the side with a paired smile and you return the same nonverbal acknowledgement. corners of your lips still lifted up, you gather the boys, “let’s have a drink break.”

as the boys make their way over to the benches, removing their gloves and helmets, you eye the water bottles and make sure you have enough–five in the cooler and three on the bench beside it. san bounds up to you after grabbing one from the cooler, bragging, “coach! did you see the way jongho intercepted that puck?”

from beside him, wooyoung reenacts the moment with wild flails of his limbs and airy whooshes from his mouth, jongho watching with bashful giggles. you indulge in their animated recount and listen intently. “he was amazingly fast,” you agree.

yeosang passes an opened bottle to wooyoung before untwisting the lid to his own, commenting, “the ankle weights on top of all the training must be working.”

the boys are not currently wearing any, but you had slowly implemented the use of vests, ankle or wrist weights during specific drills. now that they have taken them off and are playing without the burden of the additional mass, you are all starting to see the gains of their hard work.

you smirk with satisfaction, “of course. if my players are going to bulldoze across the ice, may as well make them fast enough to avoid all the opponents.”

“don’t encourage her,” wooyoung elbows yeosang scandalously. “she’s going to make us wear heavier weights next practice.”

“you don’t get to complain if you don’t even wear the weights,” you quip.

he knows his injury means that he cannot wear the weights in case it places stress on his ankle, so he curses at you with no real heat just for the sake of cursing, “fuck you.”

you wink, “love you too.”

wooyoung shuts his mouth and scrunches the bridge of his nose with faux displeasure, and jongho laughs at his inability to faze you. you glance down and open your notebook to mention, “on that note, though, how do we feel about going up a few hundred grams next week?”

“i’m fine with that,” yeosang says at the same time jongho confirms, “sounds good.” most of the other boys also nod that they are fine with increasing their weights, save for seonghwa who notifies you that he is still adjusting so he will keep his as it is for now.

you jot down ticks and crosses next to their names corresponding to their answers whilst suggesting, “yunho and mingi, you can both probably try half a kilogram since your body masses are higher.”

said boys peer over your shoulder to see what their new weights would be, then yunho makes a noise of intriguement. “coach, did you write these?”

you look to where his finger is pointing to–sticky notes upon sticky notes of unorganised observations and reminders to yourself. starting to feel self-conscious, you deny, “...no,” only for yunho to swipe the notebook from out of your grasp. “hey!”

he holds it up and open above him, voice gleeful as he reads one out, “‘jongho, wooyoung and yeosang prefer water at room temperature when training–take bottles out of cooler!’”

“aw, coach,” wooyoung coos, “did you deliberately leave three bottles in room temperature for us on the bench?”

feeling your ears heat up from being exposed, you swipe at the notebook. your skates give you added height, but so do yunho’s skates, so your attempts to jump for it are futile.

“‘boys want to eat abura soba after their win’,” he continues to read, pausing to let out a dramatic gasp, “are you going to treat us, coach?” his question is met with enthusiasm.

when another wild swipe sends a sharp sting down your shoulder from the movement, reminding you of the pain that had flared up a few days ago, you decide to change tactics. you grab the back and front of his jersey with your hands, completely ready to commit to scaling him like a literal tree. but then a different set of hands easily takes the notebook out of yunho’s and of course it would be mingi. you insult, “give it back, you tall buffoon!”

mingi is hardly fazed as you switch targets to him, your fingertips nowhere near reaching the notebook as he snickers and reads, “‘trial jongho as starting forward–wait.” he lowers his hands with sobriety and you are finally able to snatch the notebook back, shutting it before they can read any more of your sticky notes. it is not like there is anything they cannot know, but it is sort of embarrassing for them to see how much attention you pay to them.

“you want jongho on the starting lineup?” mingi confirms that he has not read it wrong, eyes as wide as all the other boys as they look at you.

jongho is almost certain that you must have meant somebody else, or something else, because there is no way that he would be given the opportunity to start for the team–not when they have yeosang and wooyoung as their wings, and the choice of hongjoong or seonghwa as their centres. he is used to being the player who momentarily relieves others of their shift on the ice, or as his parents so like to remind him, option b.

“why do you all look so surprised?” you frown. beckoning at jongho with your chin, you ask, “you’ve been practising hard to make your right hand just as good as your left hand, haven’t you? so let’s take advantage of your versatility and unpredictability on ice and throw the opponents off. what do you think?”

jongho’s mouth opens and shuts, struggling to formulate an answer through his wide beam other than, “i–of course, if you’d let me–if everyone else is happy.”

the pleased smile on hongjoong’s face is enough to make his cheeks sore and he wraps his arm around the youngest’s shoulders. he praises, “look at you, our wild card and our hidden ace,” as seonghwa declares, “i know he’ll do us so proud.”

both yeosang and wooyoung simultaneously offer their positions in the starting lineup and the rest of the boys watch on with fond expressions. they are grateful that you have recognised the talents and hard work of their youngest. although you are not aware, this opportunity holds significance not just in regards to his career.

you conclude, “we’ve been on a good streak with our games. let’s ride the momentum and show the other teams what jongho is capable of–what we’re all capable of.”

“yes, coach!” they shout, the loud echo of their voices reverberating and filling the rink with buzzing energy for the remainder of the training session.

spirits still high by the time you call it a wrap, you let them change as you grab your own belongings. there is a team meeting in the afternoon so you and the boys will be going back to kq to eat at the cafeteria and use the booked room. you pause when you see wooyoung loitering by your bag. he still has not changed out of his practice clothes.

“i’m not letting you on the bus if you’re planning on staying in those clothes,” you joke.

“i’m going to change!” he scowls indignantly, then avoids eye contact as he thrusts something out in your direction. he mumbles, “had some spares. didn’t want them. just dumping them with you so you can stash them or use them or whatever, i don’t care.”

you grab the small bag, brows creased with confusion, but wooyoung dashes away to change before you can ask what it is. you peer inside and to your pleasant surprise, there are two packs of pain relief patches. your shoulder protests at the lack of attention you have given it in the last few days. the pain is chronic and never really goes away, but it has been bothering you more than usual recently, so it is all in good timing that you now have some patches.

you make a mental note to stick one on when you get to the company and grab your bag after ensuring your notebook is stored inside. as you head towards the change rooms to wait for the boys, you spot a piece of paper on the floor. it looks like rubbish that you must have missed on your way in earlier so you pick it up to throw away. but when your fingertips touch the familiar sheen of the wax-like paper, you realise wooyoung must have dropped it.

it is confirmed when you unfold it to read the text and see that it is from yesterday evening, at the pharmacy that is just across the street from the company; in your hands you hold wooyoung’s receipt for two packs of pain relief patches.

spring marks the start of the playoffs. in synchronisation with the burst of life that blooms with the season, your boys, too, flourish in the league.

the unpredictability of your team’s strategies that entail a mix of both yours and hongjoong’s prowess helps to secure wins over the remainder of the regular season. despite the unsteady start to the season, it allows your team to scrape into the round of sixteen near the bottom of the standings.

the red devils are seeded against the team that is third in the rankings, and then against the sixth-standing team in the quarterfinals. in upsets that knock out two of the most anticipated teams in the league, your boys advance into the semifinals, their reputation as the demons of the ice rink that had laid low now rapidly spreading.

where none of the other competitors had paid you and your players any mind before, barely even noticing your presence, the opponents now glance and watch your team walk past with an air of confidence through the arena. their tense jaws and hard gazes size up your athletes–formidable rivals who have suddenly barrelled up the ranks from out of nowhere and now pose perhaps the biggest threat as a team that has somehow slipped under their radars.

you know; your team may be small in numbers. but with yunho and mingi flanking the sides of the boys, and even with hongjoong’s charismatic aura alone leading the front, which extends around him like a dark cloud of terror and envelops the rest of the group too, your team is a pack of predators at the tip of the apex.

other players part to make a path for your boys, whose heads are held high and eyes are set only on their captain and you, their coach, as you all walk to your assigned changeroom. the nerves have long dissipated because the ice rink is your territory and the other teams are your prey.

the moment you shut the door behind the last of them into the room though, the icy stare in wooyoung’s eyes melt and he exclaims, “holy shit, did you see the way everybody was looking at us? we must have looked so fucking hot, i wish i could ask for my own signature.”

from their glowing faces alone, you can tell that they are all basking in the feeling of finally being recognised and reckoned with. yunho bats his eyelids and pinches his voice higher into a falsetto, “oh wooyoung! you’re so handsome and cool, could i please have your signature?”

mingi imitates him and pounces on wooyoung, begging for a photo together as he clings onto his elbow. it sets off the rest of the boys to crowd around like mock fans with faux exhilaration. you snort at their antics, leaving wooyoung to sign imaginary sheets of paper with his imaginary pen in favour of ensuring all of their backup equipment and gear is correctly located outside or in the storage area.

you allow the boys adequate time to change into their full gear for their warm-up prior to the actual semifinal game before you walk back into the locker room. your ears perk up when you catch the end of san’s question, “that’s good for us, isn’t it?”

“what is?” you ask out of curiosity, flipping open the provided cooler and adding several sports drinks into the ice.

“i overheard someone on the white tigers team say that their head coach happened to fall sick, so they have their assistant coach today,” jongho mentions.

the surge of brazen smiles and reassured glints in their eyes at the reveal of information makes you falter to a degree. you lightly chastise, “don’t let that get to your heads and start being cocky–play as you usually do and do not underestimate them just because their head coach is off.”

you pull your notebook out of your bag, the familiar cover and weight of the book providing you with a sense of security as you remind the boys, “the white tigers have a very similar playing style as us. we may have worked hard on our defensive strategies, but with similar strengths and weaknesses overall, it won’t hurt for us to still be cautious.”

“yes, coach,” they chorus.

hongjoong nods, “let’s go warm up, then finalise our starting lineup for the game.”

your team’s allocated time on the rink passes by quickly and it is followed by the last adjustments to the discussed strategies and game plan, thorough checks of their gear, and the remaining boys who are still wearing their practice jerseys change out of the blue into their red game uniform. in full gear, there your boys stand, presence intimidating and demoniac. the boys do not live up to their team name; their team name lives up to them.

they stride through the hallway for their semifinal game against the white tigers. right at the end before it leads to the ice rink, yunho yells, “pep talk, captain!”

hongjoong groans, rolling his eyes, but places the blade of his stick onto the rubber flooring nonetheless. the rest of the boys huddle around, their sticks meeting in the centre of the circle and standing close together so that their helmets and shoulders knock against one another. you are also swept into the circle with yeosang and san by your sides.

“boys…and girl,” hongjoong snickers to himself before recollecting his very inspirational train of thought, “we’ve fought hard to make it this far–this is the first time we’ve made it into the semis, so let’s keep running until the very end, yeah?”

to the team’s increasingly loud cheers, hongjoong yells, “let’s fuck it up out there!”

their sticks hit the ground in unison and despite the muted sound of the cushioned flooring, their shouts of fighting resolve and unwavering determination drown out everything else. together, you emerge from the hallway and your starting players take their positions on the ice, ready to fuck it up.

only, it happens literally.

the moment the puck hits the ice and the white tigers’ centre forward, byun, wrestles it away with his blade, hongjoong immediately knows it is going to be one of those games. the ones where his competitive grit is fueling his mind ablaze but his body is leaden-footed as if he is wading through quicksand; where his body is just unable to keep up and move the way he wants it to. it is one of those days where his condition is just inexplicably off and there is nothing he can do about it except hope that his years of training and sheer aptitude for the sport will be enough.

“fuck,” you curse under your breath at hongjoong’s slip as jongho and yeosang rush to fall back and support those in defence. “he wasn’t like that during the warm-ups.”

byun is not only agile and swift, but is almost an identical reflection of hongjoong’s own bold and assertive offence. the centre forward powers through with evasive turns around yunho’s attempt to body check him, unafraid and confident. passing the blue line into your team’s defensive zone, byun flicks the puck at the goal.

the point shot is an unexceptional attempt to score, nothing that san’s reflexive goaltending cannot take care of. he extends his left foot and blocks the low shot with his leg pad, where the puck then slides in yunho’s direction. you did not doubt for a moment that san would not be able to save the shot, but it is still a close call that is far too early in the game to be a good sign.

your team’s greatest strength is their unspoken synergy and seamless unity, but it is also their greatest weakness. when one player stumbles, particularly when it is their captain–the very roots of the team–their bond runs so deeply that it throws their teamwork out of harmony and ultimately impacts the entire team.

with san’s save, yunho regains possession and handles the puck around the back of their net to shake off the pressure that the white tigers’ forwards are placing on him, as well as to buy his own team some time to reassemble in their formation.

you know that this is not going to work for long; you have to change the momentum of the game, and fast. “seonghwa, get ready,” you alert. “you’re going on for hongjoong.”

the alternate captain stands, alarmed at the unexpected line change so early into the game. he grips his stick with white knuckles and watches his team as he waits for your cue. yunho hits the puck against the boards where yeosang successfully receives the rebound.

“breakout!” yeosang yells and rushes forward with the chasing skates of the opponents nipping at his heels. jongho clears the centre line into the offensive zone at the same time hongjoong screens and blocks the view of the white tigers’ goaltender, setting up for an opportunity to score.

when the opponent’s left defence and wing advance on yeosang rapidly, he fakes a deceptive pass towards the boards before twisting the blade of his stick and flicking the puck between their skates instead in hongjoong’s direction. but like an eagle honing in on a small rodent, byun swoops in to snatch the puck, flipping the possession again.

the tides turn and all the athletes on the rink race towards your team’s net, a cutthroat competition between triumph and desperation to chase the puck. byun passes to the player on his left as they both dash closer, the left forward immediately returning the puck the moment he receives it to break past mingi’s defence.

you are able to see the white tigers’ right wing following closely behind ready for a drop pass, but in your team’s frenzied minds, they are unable to read the play. yunho approaches byun, who is expecting the defence and leaves the puck behind whilst skating on, knowing that it will be received by his trailing teammate. with the momentary confusion that is enough to disrupt both yunho and san’s gaze on the puck, the opponent’s right wing winds his stick back just enough to build power without sacrificing speed, then slaps the puck into the corner of the goal–

–and scores. within the first three minutes of the game.

“seonghwa,” you call out again with urgency as the whistle blows. you turn to look at him, “you’re up. you have to break the flow of the team. not just the white tigers, but ours too–the boys are panicking and you need to help anchor them.”

he nods, steadying his hand on the board in preparation to hop over it, and you yell out for the captain, “change!”

hongjoong sees the gesture of your hand pointing at the bench, and although his chest tightens with frustration at himself, he speeds towards the edge of the rink to change. once the captain is close enough, seonghwa pushes his skate off the benches to launch himself over the top of the boards onto the ice then propels himself forward to take the centre faceoff.

the captain sits down heavily on the bench, defeat already broiling off of his slumped body in smothering swells. you really cannot afford to take your eyes off the game; it waits for nobody and the whistle has already blown, the rink erupting into commotion. but whilst you need to watch the game unfold, you need hongjoong just as much, and his team needs him.

you turn him slightly to face you so that he can see your face of resolution. “you are the captain, so be the captain–for the team…and for yourself,” you invigorate, voice raised so that he can hear you over the noise of the stadium.

you give his shoulder a hard squeeze, certain he will not be able to even feel it from under the pads of his uniform. regardless, he understands your intentions and nods grimly, the fog in his eyes clearing. wooyoung taps the back of his helmet in a show of encouragement and hongjoong returns the gesture with appreciation.

a particularly loud thump draws the attention of all three of you back to the game. from the grimace on yeosang’s face and his hand steadying himself on the boards, it is obvious he has just been body checked into the wall. seonghwa pursues the puck with graceful yet powerful speed before he digs both skates perpendicular into the ice to suddenly change direction. pushing off, he accelerates back towards the white tigers’ defensive zone when mingi manages to disrupt the opponent’s stickhandling enough for yunho to sweep the puck and skate it up the perimeter of the rink away from their net.

wooyoung also goes on for yeosang but as the left wing, so jongho switches position to play as the right forward. he skates past the benches when an opportunity arises and he hands off his stick whilst grabbing his right-handed stick from you with practised ease.

with the line change of forwards and with seonghwa on as your centre, your team stabilises to an extent. the red devils are no longer being pushed back but they are also unable to push forward. the game is at a stalemate, although the tides remain in favour of the white tigers with both their positional and psychological advantage of the first goal.

you can see the pressure weighing down on your boys; passes that yunho and mingi would be capable of executing blindfolded are miscalculated; predictable manoeuvres still mislead wooyoung in the wrong direction; seonghwa and jongho fail to notice the opportunities for clear passing and shooting lanes; and the openings appear far too wide and innumerable for san to cover the goal from. the relentless offensive pressure that the white tigers places on your team, strikingly similar to how the boys played when you first started coaching them, does not give any breathing room either.

so that is how the first period comes to an end–losing zero to one with none of your players performing at their best condition. their steps are heavy and burdened as they walk back to the locker room for the intermission, helmets removed the moment they come off the ice to reveal hardened expressions. in the privacy of your assigned room, most of the boys adjust the pads in their gear and yunho peels off his shin guards to let them air out.

you pass around their iced bottles and as exhausted as they are, they make sure to voice their gratitude. san grabs wooyoung’s bottle for him, since the younger is bent over loosening the laces of his left skate. “here,” san murmurs, twisting open the cap and passing it to wooyoung once he straightens his back.

similarly, seonghwa hands over an opened bottle to yeosang before taking a swig of his own. “you’re okay?” he checks, the particularly rough body check that yeosang had copped earlier in the game still at the forefront of his mind.

yeosang gives the alternate captain a reassuring smile, “i’m okay.”

appeased by the answer, seonghwa turns to look at hongjoong, who is re-taping the blade of his stick. “what about you?” seonghwa softly asks, “you’re feeling okay?”

hongjoong glances up briefly at the back of your figure. you are busy shifting the red magnets around on the whiteboard and erasing the markings you had made prior to the start of the semifinals. when you turn around to gather their attention, you accidentally make eye contact with him and break out into a small smile.

“yeah,” hongjoong replies, “i’m feeling okay.”

“alright, listen up boys, that was just the first period. we’re not even halfway into this game and we’ve started to even up the playing field now that we’ve found our footing,” you encourage. “we just have to make sure we keep our heads cool and read their plays instead of simply reacting to their movements.”

you look at each of them as you direct, “their centre forward, byun, has been on for almost all of first period, so there’s probably going to be a shift change, if not a complete line change of forwards. they have the leniency to swap out their top players since they’re in the lead, which means if we want to break their momentum, we need to break it then.”

shifting yourself slightly out of the way, the boys are able to see the new arrangement of positions you have marked out on the whiteboard. “we’re starting the second period by sharpening our offence in the 2-2-1 formation,” you explain. you beckon your head at the captain, “hongjoong, you’re back on. you and wooyoung are to position yourselves up high between the neutral and offensive zones–try to screen their goaltender when our boys have possession. yunho, i want you to move up to our blue line with jongho and open up as many passing lanes as you two can. mingi will stay in defence and help cover the goal with san in case the white tigers makes a counterattack.

“use this opportunity to make as many scoring chances as you can. if there isn’t a clear shot but there’s a chance it can be continued on by another one of us, then go for it anyway–any sort of pressure we can put on their team is better than none.”

your forwards nod with understanding, so you continue to the most important point, “but the moment byun and the wings–kim and song, i think they are–come back on, we’re reversing the formation.” you reposition half of the magnets into a 1-2-2 formation. “only hongjoong will stay up high; wooyoung will fall back and join jongho in the neutral zone; put pressure on their forwards from there. yunho and mingi, you’ll play left and right defence as usual.”

san listens intently when you start moving the black magnets that represent the opposing players and call out to him directly. you warn, “san, be careful of their drop passes. kim and song have been skating forward but leaving the puck behind for byun to score multiple times throughout the first period. they have you primed to predict it now, so they’re probably going to change their tactic and pass directly in front of the goal instead.”

“yes, coach,” san acknowledges.

a glance at the screen on the wall of the locker room tells you that there are only a few minutes left of the intermission. “gear up and get ready to go back on,” you instruct the boys.

they make final adjustments to their pads and yunho tapes his shin guards back into place under his socks. you make sure they all have their helmets and sticks when they start to file out of the locker room once they are ready and you grab wooyoung’s gloves for him while he ties the laces of his skates again.

“thanks,” he reaches out for them as he stands up. except he stumbles slightly when he puts weight on his left ankle and your hand instinctively grabs his to steady him.

your eyes grow wide with concern. you know that wooyoung is the type to keep quiet about his pain, even if you ask, “does your ankle hurt?”

“no, my legs just fell asleep on me from sitting,” he reassures, conscious of your hand that still holds his. he smiles through his lie and hopes that you are unable to pick up on it. the buzzer sounds before you can, though, warning you both that there is only one minute remaining until the game resumes.

hurriedly you tell him, “let me know if you need to come off.”

somebody yells out your names, forcing you both to rush off to join the rest of the team in the hallway. wooyoung knows that he should admit to you right there and then that his ankle does hurt, but he will not–he cannot…because he owes it to his team.

they do not know and they will never know, but there is not a day that goes past where wooyoung does not feel guilty for having desired for their loss last year. he has to play and win this championship for his team because only then can he start to forgive himself. but until he wins, he deserves to suffer.

those in the lineup rapidly glide across the ice to take their positions, wooyoung included. a short buzzer sounds, the puck is dropped, and the second period starts. immediately you can see that your boys have the advantage. the white tigers had not expected you to take such an aggressive approach of offence considering that you are losing.

and sure enough, just as you had predicted, their coach has changed their entire line of forwards. the players are still undeniably skilled, but they visibly struggle to match the pace at which hongjoong and wooyoung are now leading your team to attack.

the rink is under the boys’ control; the neutral zone has become a stronghold with the resistance of both jongho and yunho’s combined strength and mingi’s reinforcement from behind. wooyoung weaves through the players with polished agility as he creates passing opportunities around the offensive zone, whilst hongjoong makes his own path with imposing might, his devilish wings spread. and even if the white tigers somehow manage to gain possession of the puck and break past your defence, san looks impossibly larger than the goal itself, leaving no openings for their forwards to score.

it is well into the second period when the perfect play sets itself up. with mingi blocking any possible rebounds off the boards, yunho’s attempt to body check the white tigers’ right wing forces the player to pass the puck across the ice. before their centre forward is able to receive it, jongho has already intercepted and is thundering ahead with his stick controlling the puck.

“high!” he shouts, ploughing through the neutral zone as wooyoung and hongjoong immediately respond to his call and skate up towards the goal.

jongho deliberately looks at his captain but flicks the puck with a forehand pass in the other direction, too fast for the defenders to react to. wooyoung easily receives the anticipated pass, thighs burning and his left ankle stinging as he rushes towards the goal from the left with powerful acceleration. the white tigers’ goaltender immediately lowers his stance and raises his arms in preparation to block his shot.

in the corner of his eye, wooyoung sees hongjoong matching his lightning pace on his right, the captain’s eyes narrowed with concentration and body weight tilted forward as he hurtles past the defenders. wooyoung pretends to wind up his stick for a slap shot into the net, only to twist the angle of his arms at the last second to send the puck skittering across the ice directly parallel to the goal. the goaltender drops down to his knees, having anticipated a scoring attempt, except the puck is now nearing hongjoong.

hongjoong sees it clearly–the trajectory that the puck is taking and the perfect point where it needs to meet his stick. without breaking its momentum, his arms contract to swing his stick and the blade collides with the puck with forceful precision, sending it hurtling through the air. the goaltender desperately scrabbles back onto his skates to defend the other side of the goal, but it is too late.

the puck flies past the posts and hits the netting.

the horn blares and echoing cheers erupt throughout the stadium as the lights flick on to shine across the net and your forward players. hongjoong yells with fierce triumph, stick raised into the air as wooyoung excitedly collides into him. the duo disappear amongst the bodies of your boys as they swarm around them feverish exuberance.

“that’s our fucking captain–” “–woo’s assist was insane!”

hongjoong cannot even tell who is who as he is jostled around in overjoyed laughter and beaming smiles, numerous hands reaching out to tap his and wooyoung’s helmets and shoulders. from outside the rink, you, seonghwa and yeosang have long stopped sitting on the benches, bodies too strung tight with hopeful tension to stay seated, so you are immediately swept up into a hug as the three of you celebrate the goal with identical exhilaration.

the game is still far from over but the morale has just skyrocketed through the roof as if the red devils have scored the winning goal. combined with the team’s fans electrifying the atmosphere of the stadium, it definitely feels like it, and you are starting to see hope that the ones advancing to the finals after today will be your boys.

“line change!” you faintly hear, so you still to watch all three of the white tigers’ forwards skate towards the boards. byun, kim and song jump onto the rink, back on offence in the wake of your goal.

hongjoong makes eye contact with you when you search for him amongst the team huddle and in unison, you both nod, pride and determination unspoken in your gazes–the real game is about to start now. the boys start to disperse and take up their positions around the marked circle for the centre faceoff, and hongjoong and byun meet head-to-head once again in the middle of the rink.

the white tigers’ centre forward smirks condescendingly, “cute goal.”

hongjoong’s face thunders over but he will not let himself resort to dirty sportsmanship. he bites his tongue and lowers his stance, focusing his attention on the game instead.

“ready,” the referee signals, then the puck is released.

byun manages to steal it and sends it backwards to his defensemen to open up more passing lanes, but as discussed, your boys mutually move into the 1-2-2 formation to fortify against their offensive plays. despite the pressure of the white tigers’ top forwards back in play, your team is riding on the momentum of your goal; although you had been treading to keep your heads above the water during the first period, there is now an air of confidence that permeates the ambience of the rink in favour of your boys.

an angled pass from their defence rebounds off the boards and kim receives it high in the neutral zone. he attempts an immediate pass across the ice to song, except the safety net of your player’s defensive formation allows mingi to thrust out with his stick to intercept the pass. he signals, “breakout!” before deflecting it to wooyoung.

the turnover of possession immediately triggers a switch in defence to offence as wooyoung handles the puck back the other way. his wrists twist the stick with measured coordination, controlling the blade and puck as an extension of his own hands while approaching the offensive zone. wooyoung sees the white tigers’ defensemen racing towards him so he abruptly pivots towards the left to drag the black disc around their extended sticks.

suddenly, a sharp pain engulfs his ankle that has his legs crumbling as he staggers off balance. wooyoung manages to stay upright, using his stick to steady himself, but the momentary stumble is more than enough of an opening for byun to steal possession from behind him.

the rival centre forward swerves around jongho then stays close to the perimeter to avoid mingi’s resistant defence. behind mingi, san splays his legs out as he prepares to block the left side of the goal, but byun continues blazing on and wraps around the back of the net. san follows his movement and swiftly shifts over to the right instead while byun cradles the puck with his blade to lift it into the air the moment he approaches.

yunho cannot risk a penalty by raising his own stick to block its trajectory, so he shifts his body in hopes of deflecting the shot before it reaches san. but byun’s wrists snap and tuck the airborne puck at a sharp angle right past the red goalpost…and the horn blows to mark the scoring of a goal.

your jaw plummets at the same time that your heart does. not even your lungs work, your body frozen stock-still. once more, the white tigers are back in the lead only mere minutes after the score had been painstakingly tied by your team.

“fuck!” wooyoung curses and slams his gloved fist against the ice, having dropped to his knees in enraged denial.

seonghwa looks on with despondence from beside you as hongjoong drags wooyoung back up to his feet. the captain’s jaws are clenched in frustration but only because of the score itself–never because of his boys. when mingi and yunho try to comfort san with firm squeezes and uttered reassurances, he can only return a tight smile, all three of their breaths heavy and irregular from exertion and dismay.

for the boys to have climbed so arduously and persistently to even the scores, only to be knocked off and their momentum obliterated so mercilessly soon, it is even more demoralising than the white tigers’ first goal. after all, the higher the climb, the harder the fall.

through the deep ache in your heart, you mutedly say to yeosang, “go on for wooyoung, and tell jongho to change sticks and play as left wing.”

“yes, coach,” he replies, voice delicate. yeosang waits as you gesture for wooyoung to come off before he hops over the boards and skates in jongho’s direction.

“woo,” you murmur as your left wing makes his way back to the benches, but he avoids your gaze and keeps his head down. you bite your lips and decide not to push it for now. instead, you press an opened bottle into his gloved hand.

wooyoung is thankful that the bottle is half empty, because his hand unconsciously clenches around it with quivering shame and he would have spilled the water were it full. he makes no move to bring the bottle up to his lips; he doubts the water would go down his constricted throat anyway. the penetrative guilt of his tears hurts immeasurably more than the piercing throb of his ankle because he may have just cost his team the win…again.

even when the buzzer signals the end of the second period, wooyoung dares not to look up. the score is one to two and it is his fault. the intermission passes by in a haze of dissociation, his body robotically moving on autopilot into the locker room and back to the ice rink. wooyoung does not even know whether there are line changes to the positions or whether the game strategy has been altered.

but it does not matter because it does not concern him–as if any coach would put him on after his grave mistake. what wooyoung fails to notice though is the glances of worry in his direction, and they do not come solely from his boys.

the stakes run at their highest in the third and final period. tension suffocates the entire stadium, invisible hands that snake around your throats with a hangman’s loose and make you break out into cold sweats. all the players on the ice rink put everything that they have on the line because by the end of the next twenty minutes, only one team will be advancing to the finals.

from the moment the puck is dropped into play and the timer resumes, the rink is a torrential battlefield of contesting skates and grappling sticks. dramatic passes and unforeseen interceptions lead to rapid turnovers that force both teams to hastily switch back and forth between offence and defence.

but everyone learns of the juxtapositions of the world early on in life. there is no light without dark, there is no happiness without sadness, there is no spring without autumn…and there is no victory without defeat. for every scoring attempt that the red devils make, the white tigers make three, steadily and gradually pushing your boys back in the final stretch of the game. and while most of your forwards’ goals are blocked in the nick of time, most of theirs are not.

as a last resort in the face of the crisis, you calculate the risks then add seonghwa onto the field. “yunho, change!” you yell, pulling him off defence.

“behind you,” byun alerts song as seonghwa powers across the ice right into the cutthroat action, before cursing when the white tigers nearly lose possession of the puck.

your two captains unrelentingly pursue the black disc at the forefront of your team, their complementary synergy and unity a whirlwind of prowess to be reckoned with as they try not to let the burden of scoring weigh them down. despite the overwhelming pressure as the team’s last line of defence, even more so now that you have sacrificed stability to capitalise on having two centre forwards, san’s cat-like eyes do not cloud over, only intensely scanning the field and the opponent’s plays.

you glance at the clock. there are only two minutes left and even the combined efforts of your forwards is not working. you never thought that you would ever have to do this as a coach, but now you are afraid there is no choice. “yunho,” you urge.

his head turns to you and you see the ashen pallor of your own face reflected on his as the very probable outcome of the game dawns across your minds. you make your decision. “you’re going back on. for san.”

yunho’s eyes widen. “for san? i can’t play as goaltender–”

“no,” you shake your head, “we’re playing without a goaltender.”

sixty seconds.

save for wooyoung, all of your defenders, wings and centre forwards make a last-minute spurt to attack, not letting their bodies recover for even a split second as they strain their burning legs and gasping lungs.

thirty seconds.

they desperately break past the physical boundaries of their own stamina into their last reserves of pure grit and will, draining every last drop that their mental resilience has to offer.

ten seconds.

they do not give up. they try again and again to score. but against all of your prayers, all of your tears and sweat and against all of your hopes, the gap does not close. the final buzzer blares throughout the entire stadium, marking the red devil’s loss.

two to six.

your players stand motionless, ghosts of denial and despair amongst the crazed jumps and bounds of celebration as the white tigers flock across the rink towards one another. hongjoong tilts his head upwards to stop the rush of tears from falling down his face, both yunho and seonghwa mirrors of his pain as sweat and tears drip down in salty trails. san grasps the edge of the board in front of him, his head hung low and shoulders quaking from how hard he tries to stifle his sobs so that wooyoung does not hear him.

not one of your boys are able to accept the results of the match. not even you can bring yourself to utter a single word of consolation, be it for yourself or for them. and as you watch the wretched image of your heartbroken boys, choking back tears of your own that you are unaware still manage to escape the corners of your eyes, the only sounds in your ears their stricken cries, you are reminded that the path of an athlete and coach is nothing like its portrayal in movies and stories; where hard work triumphs and leads to sure success.

the harsh reality is that there is no dramatic comeback. there is no underdog victory. there is no miracle and there is no final to advance to. you and your boys lose by triple the amount of your own goals and just like that, the journey has come to an end at the semifinals.

it is an anticlimactic defeat, the gap so far that your team could not even see the light at the end of the tunnel. and somehow…that feels far worse than losing by just a marginal difference.

the locker room is mostly quiet, the silence punctuated only by the closing of zippers and rustling of canvas as the boys who have finished showering and changing pack the rest of their gear for the final time. there are no more intermittent sniffles, leaving behind a miserable hush of emptiness instead. even the dying flicker of the light in the far corner of the ceiling thrums with more energy than the boys combined.

you sit on one of the benches and absentmindedly thumb through your notebook. seonghwa sits to your right, his kit bag already long organised and tidied to preoccupy his mind. the warmth from the close proximity of your thighs and elbows is a gracious comfort to the both of you. it no longer makes your backs straighten with uptightness, conscious of the boundaries between coach and athlete–not after your hearts and bodies melded together in hugs of solace after the final buzzer of the semifinals and melted away those lines.

seonghwa places his hand soothingly on your knee and murmurs, “stop looking at that. we’ll think about it later all together.”

none of the words or diagrams had been registering in your head, but you nod and close your notebook anyway. he probably does not want to see it either. you rest your head back against the wall behind you with a small exhale, blankly watching your team instead until your eyes travel around the room.

you count, then count again, before calling out, “captain, is wooyoung still showering?”

hongjoong cranes his neck around at the same time that everybody else does as well. “don’t think so,” he frowns, “i’m pretty sure he was one of the first ones out.”

wooyoung’s kit bag is still unpacked in his locker, so he is definitely not already waiting for the bus outside. before his absence can raise any alarms–the last thing the boys need on their plate right now–you stand and announce, “i’ll go find him. he probably just lost track of time.”

“do you need me to come with you?” yeosang rises to his feet.

you shake your head and reassure, “keep packing your bag.” then you turn to make your way out of the locker room when somebody calls out for you.

“coach, wait.”

it’s san, who skitters in front of you to press something into your hands. “give this to him when you see him?”

the item crinkles and a glance downwards reveals that it is an instant ice pack. you smile softly, stuffing it into the pocket of your jacket and hoping that nobody notices the ice pack that is already in there. “of course,” you gently touch his forearm. “i’ll be back.”

this time you make it out to the corridor but you do not get further than four steps before another voice stops you.

“coach!”

when you turn around, hongjoong emerges from the doorway. he slows down as he catches up to stand in front of you. “i…” his voice falters. “i’m sorry.”

i’m sorry i didn’t realise wooyoung was gone. i’m sorry i didn’t do my job as captain…and i’m sorry for losing.

“no,” you shake your head. “don’t be.” because you tried your best…and you did not give up. beckoning in the direction of the locker room, you tell him, “take care of the boys, okay? i’ll be back with wooyoung.”

the rigidity in hongjoong’s shoulders dissipates. “thank you…y/n.”

you smile, “anytime, hongjoong.” you wait for him to walk back inside before you finally turn to find wooyoung.

the arena is massive but apart from the locker room–which you already know wooyoung is not in–there are limited places that offer privacy from the multitude of people who mill around, be it other athletes, staff or spectators. you know from personal experience, so you head to the one place that is usually guaranteed to be somewhat out of the public eye.

“oh, fuck me,” wooyoung startles when you sit yourself down heavily on the same step as him, his curse echoing around the both of you. “how the fuck did you know i would be here?”

you snort, bumping his shoulder with yours. “i hate to burst your bubble, but this isn’t exactly an original experience. i’m pretty sure every athlete has hidden here to cry at one point in their career.”

the slight spark of light that had ignited within wooyoung at your appearance suddenly flickers out, reminded of why exactly he is hiding in the emergency stairwell in the first place. shame tears his eyes away from you, unable to meet your gaze any longer.

“i want to be left alone,” he murmurs.

although you respect his request, that is the opposite of what he needs. left to his own thoughts and devices, you know that wooyoung will spiral dangerously in guilt and self-reproach, even if the red devil’s loss is not his fault–is not anybody’s fault.

the two of you sit in silence, wooyoung intermittently swiping at a lone tear that threatens to drip off his chin, and you mulling over the words that you hold close to your heart. eventually, you break the quietude with a soft chuckle.

“the first game i ever played i was actually on left defence. our team was losing by two goals and i suddenly had the puck. i still remember seeing an opening in the goal and feeling the surge of confidence that i did when i hit the puck…but you know what?”

wooyoung does not answer, does not look up from where he is picking at his cuticles, but you can feel his curiosity so you continue, “it was an own goal. i scored into my own team’s net and it wasn’t until i scored another goal before i finally realised which way i was meant to go. obviously, my team wasn’t very happy with me, but then i ended up winning the game for them anyway and that’s how i started playing as centre forward.

“there was also a time during internationals where i argued against the ref’s call and got myself put into the penalty box. it cost our team a goal–the tiebreaker, too. i learnt my lesson and never did that again. and then there was the first couple of years i started to coached. i thought i had enough experience as a player to be a perfect coach. it wasn’t until one of my teams told me to pull my head out of my ass that i realised i was anything but.”

that gets a small snicker from out of him. you deliberate, “i’d like to think that we make the best team now, though.”

he scowls disgruntledly, “we’re your only team.”

“and my favourite team, too,” you laugh softly, gauging his expression. “my point is, wooyoung, we all make mistakes. but the reason why we make them in the first place is because we love playing. we do what our heart wants to in the moment and we play for ourselves because otherwise, there would be nothing left of us without ice hockey. what matters is that we stand up again and learn from the experience.”

wooyoung feels the weight of your words settling heavily in his chest because they are only half true to him. his passion and love for the sport indeed burns eternally as a blazing inferno inside of him, but his persistence to play today was due to ulterior motives. to acknowledge that aloud is a different story, though.

your voice takes on a lighter tone, “although i guess in this case, you should be sitting down with that ankle of yours. you know you should not be gambling with your injuries.”

he finally looks at you; a former athlete who did not even have the luxury to gamble your injury. it suddenly scares him to imagine just an ounce of the conflicting anguish that must course through you at his continuous decisions to endanger his own career–the anguish that you have made sure to never show, lest it affect them.

“do you ever feel angry?” wooyoung abruptly asks, voice laced with hesitation.

it is your turn to look away. you know that the question is not directed at himself but your entire career. with a bittersweet chuckle, you allow yourself to admit, “every day. i still get angry and i still get upset. i wake up in the morning wondering why it had to be me and i go to bed at night wondering why i didn’t deserve a second chance.

“but i’m okay; it gets easier to be okay. coaching means that i still get to go on the ice, i still get to experience the adrenaline of games and i still get to play through you guys. and most of all…i still have a team. i don’t know if i will ever stop feeling angry, but it’s better than it used to be.”

at your admission, wooyoung is reminded of how you are possibly the only one who would be able to truly understand him. he musters his courage and confesses, “i wanted us to lose last year…and we did end up losing.”

it catches you off guard, the direction of the conversation not what you had expected, but you neutralise your expression and tone so as to not make him feel defensive. “how come?”

he swallows. “my ankle–i fractured it last year just before we made it into the playoffs, so i wasn’t able to compete. i had been so angry at first; angry at myself for getting injured, angry at my coach for not letting me play, angry at my team because they could play. then when it became clear that i wasn’t going to be able to compete regardless of how angry i was, i became jealous, insecure and…afraid. jongho and i share the same position, and i mean, look at him now–he’s able to play both left and right wing. if they had won the playoffs without me, then would the team really need me?

“they did end up losing, just like i had wanted them to, but that made me feel so much worse–made me realise just how terrible i am of a person. the guilt eats me alive every single day and i tell myself that i will make it up to them this time, that i will risk everything to win for them…” wooyoung scoffs pathetically at himself, “only for me to fuck things up because of my fucking ankle again.”

you get it. the slow gnawing of yourself from the endless feelings that you ‘should not have’ until you become no more than an empty husk. ever since your own injury, you have spent nights on end trying to reconcile with your emotions in your own confusing and formidable journey, but for the first time ever, you are grateful that you did–because you can keep wooyoung company on his.

you carefully voice, “i think it was okay for you to have felt the way that you did. they’re your feelings and nobody can invalidate them nor your experience. what i came to realise was that all of those ‘ugly’ feelings do not make us ugly for having them–they simply make us human. it is only a problem when those feelings end up hurting other people, but i think the person you hurt the most…was yourself, wooyoung.”

at your words, he looks at you with wide eyes, a fresh swell of wetness gathering in them. wooyoung is kind and loving to everybody, yet has never once thought about deserving that kindness and love for himself. you smile gently, trying to hide the slight quiver in your own lips as your heart clenches with a desire to be loved in his stead.

“you know, woo, i’ve watched basically all of your past games including the quarterfinals from last year. but if i were to compare it to today’s game, it was as if two completely different teams were playing. your team was alive today–a truly united team where every member is the driving force behind each other’s passion for the game. i am pretty confident when i say that a huge part of it was because you were playing with them–because the team was finally whole again.

“yes, the trophy and the championship title is coveted but it is not what truly matters to them and neither to you. it wasn’t the actual win itself that you wanted today, but being able to win for them. and if your boys were to pick between winning without you and losing with you, i’m pretty sure you know better than i do what their immediate choice would be.”

should the other boys be here right now, they would instantly berate your ears off for even suggesting the first option. the thought flickers through wooyoung’s mind too and the corners of his lips tug upwards slightly.

still, he apprehensively confirms, “...no one is angry at me?”

“no,” you reply, voice soft, “not at all. but we are worried.”

you are reminded of the weight in the pocket of your jacket. pulling it out, you present the ice pack to wooyoung. “look, san told me to give this to you.”

his fingertips brush against your palm when he reaches out, hand hovering over the ice pack as if he does not dare to touch it. “san did?” he whispers.

when you nod, the final confirmation that he needs that nobody–you included–harbours ill feelings for him and his actions, he allows himself to take the ice pack. allows himself to love himself.

“you need to take care of your body,” you fondly chastise, lightening the atmosphere. “did coach cho not drill into you that as an athlete, your body is your most valuable asset? if you thought he was bad, he’s going to seem like an angel when i’m through with you. you won’t just be banned from playing, i’ll tie you to the bed to make sure you don’t walk on that ankle.”

wooyoung laughs through the few tears that are left, mood lifted enough to suggestively lift his eyebrows and quip, “kinky.” his laughter grows when you punch his arm in response.

no longer does he have to carry this burden alone because you are there for him now. but you know that you are not the only one who can be there for wooyoung. the dynamic between the boys runs past mere teammates and from what you have noticed, quite possibly even friends.

tentatively, you suggest, “maybe this is something you should tell the others about. that way you can truly let things go.”

his gaze wavers at the idea as he looks at you. yet, the miniscule smile and encouraging nod you give him fills him with tranquillity. perhaps it is time to let go, but the only way he can truly do that is if he is honest to the boys about his feelings–if he is honest to himself.

“okay,” he breathes out softly.

you grace him with another beat of silence before you stand up, extending your hand out to him. “let’s go.”

wooyoung takes your offered hand and lets you pull him up to his feet. he does not know if it is intentional, but the slight squeeze you give him right before your hand lets go of his fills him with warmth. the feeling stays with him even when he activates the ice pack as you two walk back to the locker room.

right at the doorway where the rest of the team is behind, you stop. you place your hand on wooyoung’s back, whose brows are starting to furrow in confusion. “i’ll be waiting out here. take your time,” you tell him.

“thank you, coach,” wooyoung returns your soft smile.

before you can think better of it, you reply, “i wasn’t talking to you as your coach…but as your friend.” then you nudge him towards the doorway with tender encouragement, waiting for him to walk through the threshold before you close the door behind him.

the first few months you had coached the red devils, mistrust had been in the shape of private conversations that deliberately excluded you. but now, trust is in the conversations that you know you do not need to be a part of. so you simply lean against the wall and wait.

and when they emerge from the locker room half an hour later, you know you have made the right decision upon seeing their eased expressions and relaxed shoulders. the air is still sombre, their defeat in the semifinals still fresh at the forefront of everybody’s minds, but what matters now is that they will face the loss together–the eight of them and you.

“here you go.”

hongjoong hands you your bag so that you do not have to go back in to grab it. you take it graciously from him, then with him by your side, you two lead the group through the arena–past the gazes and whispers that follow your group–and out to the team’s bus.

first to load his kit bag, yeosang takes his usual seat towards the front and waits. he has long developed the habit of placing his backpack under the seat in front of him instead of beside him. as the bus starts to pull away once all the bags are properly stored, you wordlessly take the seat next to him. your knees intermittently brush up against each other with the slight sway of the bus, but neither one of you make a move to shift your legs away.

you and yeosang watch the outside world whirl by the window, just like you always do. except the flowers that have bloomed among the trees–that had been bursts of positivity and vibrancy only just this morning–are now bittersweet reminders of the fall that you and the boys have just experienced.

a brief movement below your line of vision causes you to glance down. it is yeosang’s hand, palm upturned with a silent invitation of solace. you slide your fingers into his, an extension of the comfort you wish to give to them, and them to you.

what you and the boys do not realise, though, is that your flowers have simply bloomed elsewhere.

your jaw drops in sync with the last of the heavy suitcases that seonghwa rests on the floor outside their apartment complex. the amount of his luggage is easily equivalent to at least half the team’s.

“these are all yours?” you confirm.

seonghwa looks at you strangely, “of course. why?”

you look at him strangely. “are you planning on moving? why did you pack enough for a trip around the world?”

“well somebody didn’t want to tell us where we were going, so i had to make sure i was prepared for wherever our destination would be.”

“it’s called a surprise for a reason,” you shake your head, “and i did tell you to pack for cold weather, didn’t i?”

seonghwa fakes offence, scoffing, “can i remind you that it is still spring here, so my apologies for assuming that it might potentially mean we are travelling overseas.”

“you’re such a worrywart, you old fart,” wooyoung teases, circling around the older on his rideable suitcase.

seonghwa yelps when the wheels nearly run over his toes and he threatens, “next time you wet through your entire pack of underwear, don’t come crawling and begging for my spares.”

the suitcase halts indignantly to a stop with its rider. “that was one time,” wooyoung complains, “and it wasn’t even my fault!”

“it wasn’t even my fault,” seonghwa mocks. “i told you not to put your shampoo in a ziplock bag but no, you said that it would be fine.”

wooyoung sticks his index finger up. “correction, hongjoong said that it would be fine.”

“what the fuck, wooyoung,” hongjoong blanches at the sudden disclosure.

“and that’s exactly where you are at fault,” seonghwa cocks his eyebrow at wooyoung. “why would you listen to him?”

“what the fuck, seonghwa. i’m your captain,” hongjoong scowls.

“only during games.”

when you make eye contact with san, the two of you can only sigh with amused resignation. the rest of the boys shake their heads and proceed to load their luggage onto the bus, leaving the trio to feud it out in the background.

as mingi stacks his luggage beside yunho’s, he turns to ask, “are you sure we don’t need our kits?”

“you all brought your skates and sticks with you?” you question in return. when mingi and yunho nod, you reassure them, “then that’s all you need.”

jongho pipes up from beside you, “but what about training?”

“mental training,” you simply grin before hopping up the stairs to sit beside yeosang.

the boys gradually take their seats, even wooyoung and the two oldest despite their continued bickering. somebody yells out over the commotion, “coach! are you going to tell us where we’re going now?”

you peer backwards over the top of your seat to find everyone’s eager eyes on you. “nope,” you snicker, “you’ll find out when we get there. we are going on a holiday though, i’ll tell you that much.”

there is a surge of excitement at your confirmation and a similar fluttering eagerness flits through you, except yours is because you cannot wait to see their reactions. you really hope that the next two weeks will help to reset the team’s morale and give them a much-needed break.

“kq let us go on holiday?” yeosang asks with an impressed look as you settle back in your seat.

you give him a proud smirk. “i’m pretty convincing when i want to be. plus, we just had playoffs and we would all benefit from the rest. what better time to do that than at the start of the off-season?”

“there is no better time.”

“exactly.”

and so the bus starts the four-hour drive towards what the boys will soon come to realise is a team retreat. mingi connects his phone to the bluetooth, in charge of shuffling the music that blasts through the speakers, turning the atmosphere of the bus into a lively concert once it becomes obvious that it is going to be a long trip.

you have to yell over their deafening singing–which you have to admit actually sounds quite impressive–numerous times for them to sit their asses down, their enthusiasm uncontainable by the seat belts and law regulations. but they look their age, free and untroubled; just a group of boys up to their silly antics with one another, so you cannot bring yourself to truly regulate them.

the bus drives on, making a rest stop at one of the service areas along the highway so that you can stretch your legs in fresh air, use the restrooms and most importantly–

“food!”

their hollers resound before the doors of the bus even open. the second that the gap is large enough to fit one of them through, most of the boys go sprinting off like a stampede of toddlers in the direction of the food court.

wooyoung stays back and slips his arm through the crook of your elbow when you step off the bus too. he grins mischievously, “i’m sticking with you so you can pay for my food.”

“oh, stop it,” yunho tugs him away, pulling even harder when it only serves to make wooyoung’s grasp tighten around your arm. “i’ll pay for your food. leave her wallet alone.”

you laugh brightly as you are jostled around and you pull a card out of your back pocket, holding it up like a golden ticket. you waggle your brows playfully, “it’s on the company card.”

both wooyoung and yunho freeze. their eyes instantaneously start to glimmer, faces radiating when they slowly look at each other. then before you can react, they pounce on you, linking their arm through yours on either side of you and dragging you along to catch up with the rest of the team.

“buy whatever you want!” wooyoung brags and waves the card that he has seized off of you, “it’s on me!”

the service area itself is a field trip as the eight boys cause carnage throughout, except the destruction is in the number of times they swipe the company card. their hands quickly fill with rice cakes and fish skewers, corn dogs and grilled squid, more bags of walnut pastries and roasted potatoes tucked safely under their elbows. they demolish the snacks at the same rate it takes for the next ones to be prepared and the card is tossed around to keep up with their purchases.

they do not forget about the drinks either, getting iced americanos and barley tea to go along with their snacks, and banana milk and soda for the next leg of the trip. whatever catches their eyes–basically everything they lay their eyes upon–they buy. you do have to draw the line at daytime drinking though, narrowing your eyes at the cases of beer jongho and yunho try to pick up until they sheepishly put them back.

(you also end up having to purchase motion sickness tablets because seonghwa and mingi gorge themselves so full on snacks that they are queasy before they even make it back on the bus. kq’s president sends you a text too, asking just what exactly you and the boys have bought to rack up almost forty consecutive purchases at a service area. but the subsequent message asking if they are enjoying themselves tells you that his question is all in good fun.)

their energy mellows out during the last hour of the trip, both from tiring themselves out and from the gradual change in the scenery outside the windows. no longer can you see an endless mirage of highway road and open fields.

as the miles build up the further you travel, it leads deeper into a mountainous woodland with the trees growing denser and thicker around you. the narrower road winds around the base of hills and the bus driver carefully navigates the undisturbed peace of the forest. it starts to get colder and when the branches of the trees gradually dress themselves in dappled layers of snow, more of you shoulder on the thick coats and puffer jackets you had told them to bring.

the bus eventually arrives at a clearing amongst the pine trees, revealing a large but welcoming cottage pension. its wooden exterior and sloped roof gives it a distinctly cosy and rustic look, with large glass doors spanning the entire height of the walls that will let you admire the surrounding mountainous beauty from inside. off to the side of the cottage, there is a sizeable lake that has frozen over and immediately, you know that this was the perfect place to choose.

the boys press their faces against the window to get a better look as the bus pulls up beside the accommodation. “woah,” they breathe out, their exhales fogging up the glass.

they follow you off the bus in a trance, mouths open and unable to peel their eyes away lest they waste even a second to drink up the sight before them. here, in the heart of the taebaek mountains, it is still a winter wonderland despite the spring blossoms that cover the rest of seoul.

you turn to face them, walking backwards slowly and spreading your arms out with fond tenderness. “welcome to your home for the next two weeks, boys.”

even though it is simply an illusion created by taebaek’s geographical location and mountainous terrain, this time you find yourself appreciating the coldness and bareness of the winter-like ambience that cocoons you and your boys. it is as if time has stopped and there are no worries…only time to heal and start afresh.

living together, even if just for a holiday, is different.

you are used to only seeing the team in their training clothes, practice jerseys or bulked up in their padded gear and uniform. but here, the boys wear lounging sweatpants and worn hoodies, hair soft and poking into their eyes, bodies and expressions unguarded as they laze around. and where you are used to only seeing them at training, meetings and games, all rigorously scheduled and planned, there are no expectations to follow and no limits as to when you see them here.

the boys have their own organised chaoticness to their daily routines, having been living together for almost seven years now, and it seamlessly integrates into the space of the cottage too. but what truly surprises you and them is how you naturally blend into it.

when you rented the pension, you had ensured there were at least three bathrooms to accommodate all nine of you. however, you quickly discover that numbers mean nothing because the boys are incapable of staggering their morning and nightly bathroom routines one by one like you had assumed they would. you also realise that it is not that they are incapable, but that they like and want to do everything together.

space within a room holds no meaning to them and they are perfectly content to stand pressed up against each other’s sides, expertly dodging elbows and leaning over one another to reach for their toothbrushes or skincare. after that first night, you wake up in the morning and patter off in search for the least cramped bathroom to wriggle yourself into, up to three of you sharing the large sink and mirror that now looks comparatively tiny as you brush your teeth together.

more often than not, you find yourself sandwiched between yunho and mingi. it is moreso a matter of neither boy letting you escape from their clutches if you happen to peer into whichever bathroom they have crammed themselves into.

“we make the perfect ratio as the two tallest plus you as the shortest,” mingi likes to rationalise, “so it averages out perfectly with three boys in each of the other bathrooms.”

“but san’s shoulders are basically the equivalent of two grown men, so your point is invalid no matter how we divide ourselves up,” you like to argue back.

except they refuse to see reason. instead, yunho raises the volume of the speaker he has set on the sink’s counter that blasts out music to playfully drown you out. you relent every time and it turns into goofy dancing from the three of you as you pull silly expressions at one another in the mirror. when you rinse your mouth, mingi will start a gargling competition without fail, but none of you have lasted for more than three seconds before you begin to choke with laughter.

(when you are with people you like, everything is funny.)

seonghwa shakes his head whenever he passes the bathroom, insisting, “the only thing you guys are missing is a disco ball.” he is definitely not jealous of the fun you three are having. not at all.

the eldest has his own routine though, visible in the way he prepares everybody’s cups of coffee in the morning. they are all made differently according to individual preferences; no sugar, double shots, a dash of milk, brown sugar, matcha powder or decaf. and despite the fact that yeosang is usually up the earliest, seonghwa does not allow him to make his own coffee.

seonghwa claims it is because nobody knows how to properly use the drip brewer, but yeosang sits next to you and murmurs into your ear, “he just won’t admit that he likes to make them for us.” it must be the chill of the morning, but yeosang’s warm, whispery voice always sends goosebumps over your arms.

by the second morning, seonghwa finds himself naturally grabbing an extra cup and the hot surprise greets you with one and a half teaspoons of sugar in it, just how you like it. hongjoong emerges from the bathroom moments later to grab his cup and as he takes a careful sip, his eyes flit over the remaining cups on the table. seonghwa can practically hear the numbers ticking up in his head.

“y/n already took hers,” he verbalises, beckoning with his chin.

hongjoong turns around in the same direction to see you curled up on the sofa next to jongho and yeosang, your feet tucked comfortably underneath you as you lean forward out of curiosity to take a sip of jongho’s americano. when your expression scrunches up from the shock of bitterness, jongho giggles brightly and steadies your hand that is holding your own cup of sweetened coffee. his eyes melt at your reaction.

“oh, i know that expression,” hongjoong chortles. “he’s a goner.”

seonghwa sees the honey in hongjoong’s own eyes and he smiles knowingly, “i don’t think he’s the only one.”

hongjoong does not peel his gaze away from the three of you all cosied up on the couch. “you’re right, they’re both goners,” he hums absentmindedly, not at all registering who exactly it is who is being referred to.

(the true answer is that there are more than three of them.)

you discover that wooyoung is usually in charge of cooking, but in return, everybody else gets up to clear and wash the dishes the moment the last pair of chopsticks is placed down on the table. that is the only time they are allowed into the kitchen because they are apparently all walking hazards.

but when wooyoung realises you can actually handle a knife without giving him grey hairs from watching, the two of you easily divide the roles and tasks between yourselves. like a waltzing dance, you move together in the kitchen to prepare the meals. he passes you the spices in the overhead cabinets before you ask and you close the fridge when he takes out a pack of meat or vegetables.

cooking with wooyoung is never without bickering. he does not let you hear the end of the time you bump your head on the edge of the counter when you try to grab a saucepan from underneath, or the time you squeal after the oil starts to splatter from the onions. but if that is the reason why he starts to subtly move his hand to cushion the edges of the counters when you bend down to find something, or why he chooses to do the stirring and frying while you slice, then he pretends it is merely coincidence.

san never strays far away from the kitchen whenever you and wooyoung are cooking. you have noticed that they do not really ever stray apart–none of the boys do, though. wooyoung talks as you and san listen and the latter does not stop smiling as he watches wooyoung multitask. what you do not realise is the countless times you have forgotten to keep cooking because you are watching him too with the same expression that san wears.

(the rest of the boys realise and they also see the way san and wooyoung will pause to gaze at you.)

when you two have mostly finished cooking and it is simply a matter of waiting for the sauce to simmer or the soup to boil, you find that wooyoung will take his seat next to san on the barstools at the island, knees and thighs touching as he continues the conversation. you gravitate towards them the first time before catching yourself, cautious that you may be intruding, but then san gives you a dimpled smile and beckons for you to come and sit by his other side.

san likes to keep a gentle hand resting on wooyoung’s knee as he talks. when he does the same thing to you without even looking, your lungs stop working for a minute. the only thought that consumes your mind is the warm sensation of san’s thumb soothingly running back and forth across your skin. you do not want him to stop, so you stay still in hopes that he continues. you are pretty sure san does not even consciously realise he is doing it.

(san does, and he is glad you do not move away.)

in the hours after dinner and before you all head off to sleep, you pile the thick blankets into the open living room and squish yourselves on the least number of couches as possible. again, space holds no meaning when you are with the boys and you find the press of yeosang and hongjoong’s skin against your own more natural there than not.

sometimes you watch movies together, other times talking with low voices as the hours tick by, and other times where you are all doing your own things but in the presence of one another. regardless, the nine of you stay cuddled in front of the fireplace with the warm glow of the fire and the light dreamy flutter of snow outside the windows.

yeosang tenderly tucks the blankets up around mingi’s shoulders when he falls asleep before turning to you on his other side. “are you warm enough?” he softly asks. and even though you say you are, he still tucks the edges of your blanket under your chin, nestling you safely within the blanket, hongjoong’s side and his own body.

the boys are naturally affectionate with one another and seeing the close dynamic of their…friendship so intimately in the environment of the retreat reminds you once more of the possibility that their relationship may run deeper than they let on.

(but when that affection extends to you, you wonder what exactly that may mean for your own relationship with the boys.)

and so living together, even if just for a holiday, is different. it is different when they are the first sight to greet you when you wake up, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and voice still husky from fatigue as they murmur good mornings to you, and your cheeks start to glow with rosiness.

it is different when the decisions you make together are not about a change in formation or a defensive power play, but what to make for dinner and what movie you want to watch afterwards, and it makes you begin to wonder what other mundane decisions you want to make with them. it is different when they wrap you in their embrace–eight consecutive hugs–to bid you goodnight, and it takes you longer to fall asleep because you toss restlessly in your bed as their smiles replay in your head.

being on the retreat together is strangely domestic and homelike. but it has been almost nine months since you have started coaching the boys and thus seeing them every day for countless hours on end. so really, this trip should not change anything.

and yet, it feels like everything is changing.

jongho pays no mind to the conversation that is happening around him. last he heard, half of you are wanting to go out to skate on the lake before the sun sets and the other half are wanting to finish the halli galli championship you had started the night prior.

he is happy to do either but his mind is distracted by something else. as the screen of his phone lights up, jongho’s eyes flicker down and he puts his hand over the glowing display before anybody can see the caller id. you glance at him when you catch the movement in the corner of your peripheral vision, only to look away when yunho calls out your name to see which of the two options you would prefer.

the screen goes black as the call goes unanswered. seconds later, it lights up briefly with a notification.

pick up.

then the caller id shows up again. jongho grabs his phone and mumbles to nobody in particular, “going to grab something from my room.”

closing the door to the room that he is sharing with hongjoong in the pension, jongho sits down heavily on the edge of his bed, phone clutched tightly in his hand. whilst he has no qualms ignoring their messages now, he still finds it difficult to do the same to their phone calls. he finds his resolve weakening as he watches his phone ring for the third time within minutes.

so jongho picks up. “mother,” he greets stiffly.

she scoffs scathingly, “you finally decided to pick up.”

“i’ve been busy with the playoffs.” a half lie.

“busy? busy losing, you mean,” his mother ridicules. jongho is taken aback by the fact that she is aware, since he did not tell his family. it makes sense when she berates, “do you know how embarrassing it was for me to find out from your aunt? she told me to congratulate you for making it into the semifinals–the semifinals, jongho.”

he feels a heat of shame at what she is insinuating. jongho defends, “that’s still the top four out of seventy six teams.”

“nobody cares,” she turns her nose up. “it does not matter if you came fourth, second or last–unless you win first place, the result is not worth anything. our entire family has a legacy of achievements and your younger brother even has an olympic gold medal now. but what have you done? this is a mere national competition and yet you are incapable of making it into the finals.”

“jong–” his name dies on the tip of your tongue and your hand stops before you can knock on the door when you hear jongho’s muffled voice.

the boys had finally decided to grab their skates so you had come to get jongho to join everybody outside. realising he is talking to somebody, you are about to turn away and give him some privacy, but the words you hear make you freeze.

it is not the conversation itself that you overhear; it is the wounded tone of jongho’s voice that makes it impossible for you to walk away. your feet stay rooted to the spot, in fact, wanting to enter the room. you have not heard jongho in such great affliction before, not even when he was consoling the boys with tears in his own eyes after their crushing defeat in the playoffs.

“when are you going to celebrate my achievements for what they are, instead of telling me to do better?” jongho appeals.

he has lived his entire life being told that he is not good enough–constantly compared to the accomplishments of his family, particularly those of his younger brother. what he does not understand is why he cannot just be recognised for the athlete that he is, void of any other person.

his mother is silent and for a brief moment, jongho thinks that she may finally see some sense in his words…only for her to unfeelingly state, “when they are worth celebrating.” with a simple, “do better,” she hangs up on him.

jongho’s hand falls limply into his lap, phone slipping out of his lax fingers with a dull thud to the ground. he wants to swear. he wants to cry. he wants to throw his phone against the wall until the screen shatters. but jongho simply leans forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, the crushing weight of dejection forcing his lungs to exhale shakily.

there is a faint, timid knock on the door. he knows who it is immediately–only one person would knock so softly. “come in,” he answers listlessly, because he could never bring himself to ignore you no matter his own feelings.

the door cracks open to reveal your tentative figure and you slip through the opening. from the way your lips are pulled down, eyes rounded with concern, jongho knows that you have connected enough dots to understand the context of the phone call.

you approach the bed and try to ignore how small the boy in front of you looks with his shoulders hunched inwards on themselves. jongho has always appeared as the most collected and composed, even more so than the captain, and it makes your chest tight to realise he has simply been hiding this whole time.

jongho is not a man of many words so you do the next best thing that feels right in the moment. you simply open your arms. when his hands slowly come up in silent acceptance, you step forward to engulf him in your embrace.

he presses his face into the soft warmth of your stomach. the darkness welcomes him with safety and comfort and he lets out a stuttering breath that racks his entire body. you wrap one arm around his shoulders and cradle the back of his head with your other, your fingers tenderly caressing his hair in soothing motions.

although silence is what he needs, you allow yourself to say one thing to him. you murmur, “i’m proud of you, jongho…so, so proud of you.”

and they are the words he has been wanting to hear his entire life. unable to keep it together any longer, jongho breaks down in your arms with tearful sobs and allows himself to grieve for the acknowledgement he has yearned his entire life and never received. however, it will only be for tonight because he has realised that it is futile to chase after recognition from a person who refuses to see his worth, even if that person is his own family.

there will always be other people who can see his actual worth; the same people who will still love him even if he does not have a gold trophy to call his. for him, those people are his seven boys and you.

so he stays in your arms with you wrapped around him, time lost to the two of you. he cries until he has no tears left and you tilt your head upwards to stop the flow of your own tears before they can drip down onto the crown of his head. and outside the bedroom, hongjoong quietly eases the door shut to give you both some privacy.

you do not know how much time has passed when you finally step out. jongho has fallen asleep after you tucked him under his covers, exhausted. heading towards your room to change out of your shirt, you are startled by the sight of hongjoong lingering near the door.

“you didn’t go out with the boys?

he shakes his head, then conscious of where you two are standing, he gestures inside your room and follows you in. “is jongho okay?” hongjoong asks.

“i think so…he’s sleeping now but probably just needs a bit more time,” you sigh, “i just wish i could do more for him.”

hongjoong reassures, “you are already doing so much more than you realise.”

for jongho. for wooyoung. for all of them. comfort has never been about the words or actions, but the person who is by their side, and for the boys, having you there is already enough.

“really?” you worry.

“yes, really.”

before he realises what he is doing, hongjoong reaches out to gingerly cup the side of your face to thumb away the worry in your brows. “y/n, you take care of us all the time…but who takes care of you?” he whispers.

“i’m your coach, of course i–”

“no,” he interrupts. “you aren’t just our coach and from what i have seen, you aren’t just our friend either. unless…” hongjoong hesitates, “unless i’ve been reading everything wrong, then in which case, tell me and i’ll move away.”

you do not reply. your eyes flicker back and forth between his, your heart racing and mind blank. it is true–they are not just your players and they are not just your friends either, but you are unsure about taking such a huge leap of faith and acting upon the feelings you have only just started to understand.

hongjoong takes your silence as encouragement to step even closer until he is right in front of you. he keeps his hand on your cheek, his other coming up to delicately cradle your waist. you are standing intimately enough for his warm breath to span across your cheeks as he tenderly pleads, “let us take care of you as more than what we are right now.

“if you do not want to put a label on it then that’s fine, we won’t. we’ll still be your team and you’ll still be our coach. but please, let us take care of you when you are hurt, when you’re upset or angry, and when you are happy, too. let us love you as one of ours.”

as one of theirs.

you swallow and confirm, “are you all together?”

“yes, we’re dating each other,” hongjoong nods.

“but then why…” your voice trials off. why me, too?

hongjoong taps the tip of your nose and jokes lightly, “is there a capped limit as to how many people we are allowed to love?”

it pulls a giggle out of you and he smiles fondly as he reiterates, “we don’t need to put a label on this and we can go entirely at your pace. just let us into your heart, please?”

for a moment you wonder what will happen to your professional relationship with the boys–what will happen if things do not work out or worse, if other people find out and report you all for it. but when you really think about it, you realise that the professionalism between you and the boys has long since blurred.

you do not know if you can go back to seoul after this retreat and act like you do not want to continue living with them. most importantly, you do not want to know if you can. so you take the leap of faith and nod–you want to be theirs.

when you first met the red devils in autumn last year, you were resolved to win over them. never would you have expected that you would win them over in more ways than one…and be won over yourself.

“hi, girlfriend.”

seonghwa smacks the back of wooyoung’s head. “stop pressuring her,” he hisses as the younger cackles delightfully and strides away through the snow impressively fast considering he is wearing his skates.

“ignore him,” seonghwa turns to you, where you are sitting on the porch steps to the cottage. he squats down and takes the laces out of your hands to start doing up your own skates.

“i can do it myself,” you start.

“i know you can,” seonghwa hums, gazing up lovingly, “but i want to do it for you.”

you press your lips together in an attempt to hide the shy smile that blooms across your face and when that fails, you duck your head down instead. ever since your talk with hongjoong the other day, the boys have been significantly more obvious and proactive with their displays of affection for you. however, you are pretty sure they had their own conversation when you were asleep or in the shower, because not one of them pressures you into something you are not ready for, even if that includes making your relationship official.

“there you go. is it too tight? too loose?” seonghwa taps your skates and you tell him they are perfect. taking his offered hand with an appreciative smile, he pulls you up to your feet and you go to join the rest of the boys on the frozen lake.

you are sure it feels the same for every single one of your boys–nothing can compare to that moment when you first step onto the ice. it is where you become a completely different person; a fish back in water, in control and at home.

it had been a gamble renting the cottage pension as you were unable to know whether the lake would be frozen over enough to allow for skating. but it is as if the heavens know not to separate you and your boys from the love and passion that your entire lives revolve around, because you are blessed to see them scrambling out to play on the frozen lake almost every single day, just like they are right now.

san spots you and seonghwa and beckons for you two to join. “hongjoong’s the tagger,” he calls out.

the captain stands at the other end of the lake, back facing everybody as he drawls, “green light…”

before hongjoong even starts to enunciate the first word, yunho, wooyoung and jongho have already pushed off their skates to advance. it sets off an immediate chorus of indignant shouts and desperate acceleration amongst everybody else to catch up. you laugh and seonghwa drags you along with him urgently, unable to stand your apparent nonchalance and uncompetitiveness.

but oh, how wrong he is. very quickly, you join the majority of the boys in a game of who can be the most sneaky with dirty play. wooyoung and mingi tussle with one another right as hongjoong turns around with his yell of ‘red light!’, trying to topple the other over so they get caught. jongho yanks on the back of seonghwa’s jacket whilst yeosang giggles and joins in to yank on jongho’s, effectively preventing all three of them from advancing forward.

“let go of me, you brats!” seonghwa flails forward against the combined weight of the two boys but to no avail.

you use yunho’s height to your advantage and hide behind him, steadily creeping forward even when hongjoong has turned around to face you all. yunho quickly catches on and extends his hands backwards for you to latch onto. you are more than happy to let him do all the hard work skating you both towards the captain and you grin cheekily at the trio–still caught up in their self-induced tug-of-war–as you overtake them easily.

“y/n’s cheating!” san hollers, the only one who is actually playing by the rules.

“life’s not fair!” you holler back gleefully at the same time that hongjoong sniggers, “san, you moved your mouth! go back.”

san gives an indignant cry, “favouritism, i say!” but, bless his heart, moves back to the starting line regardless.

when yunho is almost towering over hongjoong, he cues you to get ready to escape by letting go of your hands. you pivot around and without waiting for anything else, you start to run away.

“gree–”

yunho tags hongjoong’s right shoulder before pushing off to the left so that he escapes the other’s immediate line of vision. except it means that the first person that hongjoong sees when he turns around is you.

an involuntary squeal escapes you when you hear the terrifying crispness of skates on ice right behind you followed by the captain’s arms snaking around your waist. “caught you, babe” he beams. hongjoong lifts you up with shit-eating smugness at your reaction–both at his close proximity and the pet name–spins you around for good measure, then sets you back down to chase after the others.

wooyoung skates in a wide arc to dodge the captain’s frenzied rampage, only to suddenly appear right beside you with the most telling glint in his sparkling eyes that he is up to mischief. he grins.

“wooyoung, no,” you warn.

he grabs you by the waist. “wooyoung, yes.”

wooyoung pushes off his skates with you in front of him at breakneck speed across the ice, bellowing at the top of his voice, “make way for the cripples!”

you scream the entire way to the end of the lake, hands clutching onto his like a lifeline as a colourful string of words flies out of your mouth. you think you black out for a second because when you open your eyes again, you are in a heaving tangle of arms and legs on the cushiony surface of powdery snow.

“oh, shit,” hongjoong winces.

the boys speed towards you and wooyoung, and yunho peers down at you on the ground with panicked concern in his eyes. “are you two okay?” he asks but when he sees that you are laughing, unrestrained and radiating joy, yunho relaxes and joins in with relief.

they–mainly seonghwa–fuss over you both enough to reassure themselves that there is not so much as a scratch or bruise, before mingi suggests playing a casual hockey game of five versus four. there are to be no goaltenders and san fashions makeshift goalposts by poking sticks into the snow on either ends of the lake.

the team splits into their usual arrangement when they are required to be in two groups; hongjoong, yunho, san and wooyoung; seonghwa, yeosang, mingi and jongho. normally, you would offer to be the honorary referee…but the boys have never been rough with you and you have confidence that you will not get hurt. so for the first time in years, you play.

it is far from a proper league game and it will never be enough to quench your thirst as a former athlete, but for now, gripping your stick on the ice in tandem with the others, you are content–you are alive.

like red light, green light, the game starts off fair and proper for a grand total of two minutes. then it becomes a circus of foul plays and increasingly creative methods of cheating as all sense of order is tossed out the window. yunho and san stand in front of you, leaving just enough space for you to handle the puck, whilst hongjoong and wooyoung flank your sides and use their sticks to block any attempts to steal the puck. as a shielded group of five, you all move up towards the goalposts like a formidable army tank.

in retaliation, jongho physically manhandles hongjoong out of the way, hugging him from behind with a vice grip that he swears not to let go. seonghwa, mingi and yeosang imitate him with similar displays of strength, turning the entire match into a childish scuffle of chaos and hysterics.

there are no proper rules, no proper gear and no proper stadium–only the bare minimum, yourselves and uncontainable laughter. it feels like you are kids again, little souls harbouring colossal dreams, running around on the fields with long branches and a pine cone you had found when you could not afford to go to a real rink.

it is like you have gone back in time to when all you knew about ice hockey from watching it on your television screen was that you had to get the puck into the goal. you and the boys are fresh, blank slates without a care in the world for the countless strategies and tactical plays that you have learned over the length of your careers.

without the pressures and routines of strict training regimes, you all reignite the very roots of your ardour and fervour for ice hockey. no longer is it about the scores and making it into the playoffs. no longer is it about winning the championships to gain the acknowledgement of other people. no longer is it about the trauma of betrayal, injury and defeat you have experienced.

playing is simply the thrill of skating liberally with no burdens across the ice. it is the feeling of thriving when your blade connects with the puck and sends vibrations up your arms. it is the rush of adrenaline as everyone moves in tandem with the same singular thought in your hearts–that you love ice hockey with your entire lives. and that in itself is already more than enough, even without a gold trophy and championship title to prove it to yourselves.

for the last five years, the boys have had the leaves of their trees forcibly plucked and removed–by family, by coaches, and by injuries…but now?

it is time for their flowers to bloom.

spring, 2025: playoffs

standing off to the side, you watch your boys listening attentively to the reporter who is conducting an interview with them. you have continued to stay out of the media spotlight where possible, not yet entirely comfortable standing in front of the cameras again, but your boys have quickly grown accustomed to media coverage ever since their popularity gained traction thanks to their undefeated streak in the regular season.

the interviewer glances down at her prompt card before asking, “so tell me, what has been a major contribution to your success this season? your team has made a name for yourselves as the undefeated champions so far–quite a contrast to how you started off last season.”

seonghwa laughs cordially with her. “we were getting used to a lot of changes last year so our teamwork and mentality wasn’t the best,” he admits. “our agency gave us some time off to recalibrate, which really helped us to focus on building ourselves–as individuals and as a team. i think we learnt to place our unconditional trust in one another and our coach. we still play with a dominantly offensive approach, but we’ve been adopting different playing styles and experimenting with them, so this relies heavily on believing in each other.”

yunho nods, gesturing for the microphone to add, “as cliche as it may sound, a huge part of our growth was also learning how to accept loss. this wasn’t just in the context of being defeated in the semifinals but in the wider lens of our past mistakes, relationships, and even situations that we could not change.

“it has been a tough journey for a lot of us over the last year, but we were lucky enough to have each other’s support,” yunho’s nostalgic smile reflects your own as you realise just how far both you and all of your boys have come. “once we were able to let go, it meant that we could enjoy our career for what it truly is–playing the sport of our dreams together, every day.”

the reporter’s ears perk up in interest at the segway to probe and she jumps on the opportunity to ask, “i am sure many of your fans have been curious for a long time. is there a special somebody who has supported you–or any of you–throughout your journey?”

yunho passes the microphone to the hand that has extended out to reach for it. it’s san this time, who has a charmingly confident persona that he takes on whenever he answers questions during interviews. good thing too, because their fans are going to need something to distract them from understanding the confession he is about to make.

“there is. we all do, actually,” his deep voice rolls off his tongue like butter. the way he smoothly talks with a flirtatious smirk never fails to make you swoon. “funnily enough, we all met our girlfriend at about the same time.”

off to the side, wooyoung sends a wink in your direction and you have to muffle a snort with your hand and divert your glance away. the structural framework of the stadium ceiling suddenly looks very interesting. san stands there incredibly smug at his joke that he knows nobody but you and the boys will pick up on.

by the time you tune back into the conversation, the reporter has moved onto the next question. “last year, you lost to the white tigers in the semifinals. how do you feel about facing them again later today?”

due to a spike in popularity, the korean ice hockey league had to divide its teams into two separate groups for the regular season matches this year. both the red devils and the white tigers had been placed in different groups and by some twist of fate, had ranked at the top and then seeded accordingly on either ends of the tournament brackets. now, your team faces theirs in the very last game of the season.

the finals.

“we’re quite excited, actually,” jongho responds. “we have been wanting to play against the white tigers again some day and i don’t think it gets any more fitting than meeting them in the finals. they have some incredible players but like seonghwa mentioned before, we’ve been working hard to adjust our playing style to suit the situation. our coach has put in a lot of effort to hone in on our strengths and weaknesses, so no matter what today’s outcome is, we’re confident that it won’t be an easy win for either team.”

“i am sure the finals is going to be a thrilling match. now, speaking of coaches,” the interviewer starts and you can see hongjoong’s hand twitching subtly at his side, ready to step in and deflect the question need be should it pertain to you.

she continues, “how does it feel to play against your former coach?”

yeosang and mingi frown, unable to neutralise the confusion on their faces. hongjoong smiles calmly, ultimately taking over the microphone as he apologises, “sorry, could you please elaborate your question?”

it is the interviewer’s turn to fluster slightly but she nods quickly, “you must not be aware, then.”

your eyes dart back and forth as you try to recall whether there is a crucial piece of information you have somehow missed or forgotten to tell the boys. the tone of her voice foreshadows something that makes the pit of your stomach churn.

“last year, the white tigers had a stand-in coach, so you probably did not know.” she says her next words carefully and despite the bustling movement that fills the entire stadium, you can hear the exact moment all of your hearts drop.

“the coach of the white tigers is coach yeon, your team’s former coach in 2018…and he’s here today.”

you are the first to rush back into their locker room. frantically, you grab the official guide that had been given to you by the ice hockey league prior to the start of the regular season from out of your bag. you flip through it, team profiles upon team profiles blending into a hazy blur of faces as you find the one you are trying to look for.

“y/n,” somebody gently murmurs from behind you but you do not register their call. you continue to flick through the pages and when you find the profile for the white tigers, you scan the top of the page for a certain name with a shaky finger.

head coach: yeon ha joon

“oh my god,” you breathe out, hands lowering to your sides and gaze wavering. how the fuck had you managed to miss it this entire time?

you are not the only one affected by the revelation. the change room is pervaded by unease and restlessness, and wooyoung paces back and forth despite hongjoong’s attempts to get him to sit down. hongjoong himself cannot even remember how he answered the question about coach yeon, only that he had somehow excused themselves not long after to cut the interview short.

“how is he still a coach?” seonghwa furrows his brows.

wooyoung stops pacing and your eyes are drawn to him when he suddenly blanches, “what if coach yeon is doing the opposite now and paying other teams to let his own team win?”

“no way–” “–i wouldn’t put it past him–” “–surely not?” the boys’ voices overlap at the speculation.

it is a valid speculation based on what they have told you in the past about coach yeon. however, you stay quiet, suddenly aware of the fact that it is not something that would favour you should it be true. you gnaw the inside of your cheek because as much as you know that your boys would not suspect you, you still worry that doubt may cross their minds at one point, even if only briefly.

“unless the money he offered every single time was equivalent to the prize money, it’s highly unlikely the teams would have all accepted, right?” jongho points out.

yunho shrugs nonchalantly, “but even if they did, we all know that coach yeon would never be able to bribe our girl.”

the way everybody immediately agrees expels some of the anxiety within you, filling you with reassurance and security that starts to relax your chest instead. wooyoung chooses that moment to finally sit down on the bench beside you. he adds, “we’re too whipped for you, so even if you were bribed, we would probably ask whether the money was enough and if you wanted more.”

san chucks a water bottle at him. despite yourself, you laugh and admit, “that is…strangely comforting.”

“see,” wooyoung triumphantly boots the bottle back at the older. “she gets it.”

seonghwa intercepts the pitiful bottle before it becomes weaponised and sets it down next to him. “she wouldn’t accept the money in the first place.”

“exactly, so why does any of this matter?” mingi suddenly questions.

yeosang knits his brows together as he states the obvious, “it’s coach yeon.”

“and?” mingi mirrors his expression with genuine confusion.

it is quiet in the locker room. the coach of the white tigers is indeed coach yeon…and so what? what exactly about the revelation has pushed you all to the edge of the cliff?

mingi cocks his head. “what i’m trying to say is, does it make any difference whether he is their coach or not? think about it–regardless of how he got his team to the finals, he has no unfair advantage over us. there’s no way that he has bribed a fixed win in the finals, and he has no access to any insider knowledge that could jeopardise our tactics and plays.

“the only leverage that he ‘has’ is a psychological advantage–if we can even call it that. but we’re not the same boys who were too naive and powerless to do anything about it six years ago. if anything, we can easily turn this to work in our favour because i don’t know about you guys, but i’m ready to drag his ass through the mud. what we said earlier about not caring for today’s outcome? nah, fuck that. we’re going to fuck him up and show him that he messed with the wrong people.”

he takes everybody’s silence as misunderstanding of his last statement and he hurriedly clarifies there is no violent intent, “by winning. fairly.”

“damn,” jongho whistles. “you’re onto something for once.”

mingi clambers over seonghwa’s legs to grab the forgotten bottle and it goes flying across the room with violent intent. “dude, what the fuck,” mingi grouses.

the dull thud that resounds when jongho holds san’s leg pad up to block the projectile is enough to shift the mood in the room entirely. you finally relax into hongjoong’s side and he moulds you closer to him with the arm that he snakes around your waist as you both watch the locker room erupt into familiar pre-game mayhem.

yunho immediately scoops up the bottle and pitches it again. san stands to the side worrying over his poor leg pads as jongho uses them to bat the makeshift ball. his impressive accuracy makes you wonder whether they would have made it just as big as they are now had they formed a baseball team instead, but then yeosang narrowly dodges the bottle before it gives him a black eye, wooyoung cackles in the background, and you think better of it.

seonghwa joins you both on the bench and amongst all of the mischievous chaos and raucous laughter, you feel at peace, your hands clasped tenderly in the hands of your two captains–in unity, trust and love. you affectionately squeeze their hands with unspoken conviction.

you know your boys are going to play well; you just have a good feeling.

the energy in the room spikes exponentially as you huddle together one final time before you walk out of the locker room, through the hallways and to the arena–one final time before you step out to the ice rink as the red devils, playing in the final match.

you and your boys stand in a circle as close as it is physically possible with their bulky pads and game jerseys that they wear so proudly. it is indiscernible where one of you starts and where another ends from how intimately you all press together. your huddle is a woven nexus of arms and your hearts pound as one entity.

everyone learns of the juxtapositions of the world early on in life. there is no light without dark, there is no happiness without sadness, there is no spring without autumn…and there is no victory without defeat. not a single one of your boys has made it this far without falling at least once, and the conscious thought makes your heart swell and your throat constrict with overwhelming emotion.

somehow, you manage to choke out, “i am so, so proud of all of you.”

yunho and seonghwa’s own eyes start to heat up with wetness. from your side, san kisses your temple with feather-like tenderness, “and we’re so proud of you. y/n, you have grown just as much as we have.”

“thank you for being our coach,” hongjoong murmurs into your ear from your other side, the tip of his nose softly nuzzling you.

wooyoung reaches out to thumb the round of your cheek, “and thank you for loving us when we found it difficult to love ourselves.”

you had always viewed your injury and career with anger, bitterness and anguish…but you have finally come to terms with it. in the process of healing, you have learnt to love yourself, love eight other people, and to be loved. you have had your golden days as an athlete and you are now living your golden days as a coach–

–the very coach of the red devils, your team of boys who are living through their golden days as athletes, and you are going to lead them to victory in the finals.

swiping at a tear that slips down your cheeks, you grin. “boys, let’s win this match and then,” you pause as you meet their determined gazes, their smiles wide with uncontainable excitement, the tension in the room electrifying and palpable.

“let’s go international.”

you may have all fallen before–as athletes, as coaches, as a team–but you will always stand back up together, because at the end of the day your dream is theirs and their dream is yours. and like autumn, the leaves fall for a reason; they must fall before the spring flowers can bloom to their full beauty.

and bloom your flowers have.

1K notes · View notes

minranghae · 4 months ago

Text

Taste | 18+

》 pairing: c.san x f!reader

》 genre: fluff, smut, angst if you squint really hard

》 warnings: friend’s brother!san, female reader, general silliness, stubborn reader, san loves to tease, hes a sweetie too ofc, smut, piv, oral (f. receiving), fingering, pet names (angel, baby, etc.), coworkers, san bites reader one (1) time, barely proofread, unprotected, lmk if i missed any

》 wc: 5.2k

》 hello! i am back from the dead with my second fic and second installment in the senses series. i do apologize that this took so long, but i do plan on releasing more stuff soon-ish. i'm working on a longer series, so who knows what'll hapen lol. also! i am cross posting on ao3 now. the user is femdoms, so check it out if you are interested. finally, i just want to say thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy this!

“God, I really can’t stand you, San! Stop following me, pervert!”

“Yeah, whatever, just get in so we can talk,” he yells to you with his arm hanging out the window of his car, an annoyed, yet amused smirk covering his face.

“No way!” You yell over your shoulder, too embarrassed to face him both physically and figuratively.

Really, how could you? Not after you found him with your diary in his hands, reading it like it was his favorite novel. At first, you tried to convince yourself that he didn’t see those pages, but the blush on his cheeks told you otherwise.

And that’s why you’re here: running away from San in the middle of the night.

“I’ll make you a milkshake,” San coos from the car, causing you to turn your head in interest, “You know you love ‘em,” he offers, as if you’re a dog and he’s holding a treat in front of your face.

And god damn it, it works.

“Fine, but I’m not talking to you until I get one,” you say, opening the car door and climbing in.

“You’re talking to me now,” he quips, earning a look from you that he thinks would’ve killed him if it had the ability.

“Alright, tough crowd,” he murmurs to himself with a dry laugh, hoping to earn a giggle- or at least a smile- from you, but to no avail.

The whole situation was so embarrassing. And degrading, and stupid, and embarrassing-

“Stop thinking so much,” he swats at your arm playfully, noticing the clear look of discomfort and sheer, unabashed embarrassment on your face, “you don’t even know what I have to say yet.”

You answer him with a small hum, deciding against giving him a verbal response, because no matter how much you’d like to curl up in a hole and die, you’re still as stubborn as the day San met you.

You officially met him the first day you worked at the diner. Your best friend’s family had owned it since the old owners left, leaving the significantly smaller family of four looking for new employees. College debt had already begun sneaking its way into the back of your mind, and Eunbi needed to work with someone other than her nagging parents or annoying older brother. It was the perfect opportunity for you.

“C’mon! Just try it!” The boy working with you begged.

“I already told you, I have trauma with milkshakes!”

San laughed to himself, trying to hide the amusement evident on his face.

“Look, I’m sorry you found a hair in your milkshake however long ago, but I can assure you that my milkshake is hairless,” he held his little finger up to you, “pinky promise.”

Rolling your eyes, you locked your pinky with his. Your hands lingered together for a moment too long, until San pulled his away to push the drink closer to you.

“San, you know, I’m not really a huge fan of chocolate-”

“Didn’t you and Eunbi make chocolate cupcakes for your birthday though?”

You freeze, cheeks heating up at his question, unsure if it was the fact that he’d caught you in a lie or that he knew and remembered what you and Eunbi had done for your birthday bringing the blush to your face. Attempting to hide your embarrassment, you shot him a small smirk, gently pursing your lips.

“‘Gotcha there, honey.”

Ever since that day, San always had a milkshake waiting for you at the end of each shift. And maybe it was that kindness that made you blush, or maybe it was the fact that his eyes smiled along with his lips every time he greeted you. It could’ve been the way he always knew how to make you giggle, but whatever it was, it was clear that you’d fallen for San.

Which is weird. Weird because he’s older than you, he’s your coworker, he’s out of your league, and worst of all: he’s Eunbi’s brother.

Really? How cliche is that? It’s not even like you could tell Eunbi about it. That would’ve made everything so much worse. It’s embarrassing enough to be so head over heels for a guy who just sees you as his little sister’s best friend, but to have people know about it too? There’d be no coming back from that.

And that’s exactly why you decided to start keeping a diary, or mindful journaling as you called it. That sounded better than keeping a diary.

You originally started it to confess some of your feelings about San. You wrote how embarrassed you were to have a crush on him. You wrote about the milkshakes he made you and the times he defended you against angry customers. You wrote about how stressed you felt about life in general. Your worries, your fears, the moments of your days that you wanted to forget, but your mind wouldn’t let you. You wrote about anything you couldn’t confess to another person.

On particularly late nights full of hopeless pining and horny desperation, you’d write about your fantasies, some involving random celebrities or TV characters, but most involving San.

It was nothing too in depth, it was more about how much you wanted just a taste of him. You knew you could never have him for good, but if you could just feel his strong arms around you or his lips on your skin just once, maybe that’d be good enough. Just a little taste. It felt dirty thinking about him in that sort of way, but who would see it anyways?

Little did you know, San himself would.

It had slipped out of your bag. And being the kind, and relatively organized coworker he is, San picked it up to put it back in your bag for you. The way it landed on the floor, though, left it open on its spine with its pages just begging to be read.

He wasn’t going to read it. That would be an invasion of privacy, and San wasn’t that kind of guy. He wouldn’t do that.

But when he picked it up, he couldn’t help but notice his name on the page. And unfortunately, as it does most of us, curiosity got the best of him.

San tried to stop himself, he really did. But, knowing just how eager you were for him put his head in a spin. He just couldn't help but picture you underneath him, with that adorable blush and shy smile that only appears when he starts teasing you. He wanted so badly to hear how you whimper, to feel how warm you are, to see how sweet you taste. He had a feeling you liked him, but he never would've guessed you reciprocated the feeling so strongly.

He saw this as more of an opportunity for you two. He wasn’t going to tell you what he’d seen; he’d just confess to you one night. And maybe it’d have to be secret for a bit, but eventually you could be his, and he wanted nothing more than that.

No big deal.

But, as soon as he heard a small gasp from the doorway and looked up to see your eyes welling with tears, he knew that plan was well fucked.

San always thought you were pretty. From the moment Eunbi first brought you over, he couldn’t help but notice your expressive eyes and beautiful hair. But what he liked most was that shining smile you had. And seeing that he’d wiped it from your face as soon as you walked in, he just had to chase you.

And so, as you sat across from him in a booth in the dimly lit diner, he studied your face: the embarrassed blush and sweaty gleam sheening your forehead, your pouty lips wrapped around the straw of a chocolate milkshake as your eyebrows furrowed.

Even your beauty was stubborn.

He began softly, so as not to scare you, his fingers drumming against the table in a gentle rhythm, “So… do you like the milkshake?”

You looked up at him, an eyebrow quirked, “Yeah, it’s good.”

San pushed out a sigh at your icy reply, settling back in his seat as he let his palm fall flat against the table. He knew what he wanted to say, he just couldn’t find the words. You broke the silence a moment later.

“Look, we can both pretend like you saw absolutely nothing at all and I’ll ask to work different times of the day so we won’t even have to see each other. I’m not weird, I promise, I just-”

“Shh,” he cooed, grabbing one of your hands, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of it, “you didn’t even let me talk yet.”

San’s gaze scanned your pretty face for a moment, falling onto those eyes and lips he adored. His heart pounded against the back of his ribs, and yet, you seemed so nervous. Had he read it wrong?

“Did you mean it? What you wrote?” he asked, his voice holding a subtle tone of insecurity. His gaze fell to the table where your hands met, his grip tightening just slightly.

You looked up at him, your wide eyes sweeping over his strong face and your breath picking up. Of course you meant it, but did he want you to mean it?

“Why are you asking that?” you mumble, pulling your hand from his shyly. Your entire face was tinged pink from embarrassment and guilt, so anxious. San couldn’t stand it.

He made an effort to grab your hand again, his other hand lifting your chin gently so you’d look at him. He shook your head a little, trying to bring out a tiny smile again.

“You said you needed my face between your thighs…”

Your body went rigid. Out of all the entries, he just had to read that one? You remember writing it after watching him open something with his teeth one day, his jaw flexing as he used his teeth to rip open the plastic packet. Unfortunately, your mind was clouded by unsavory thoughts later that night, and so, into the journal those fantasies went.

“I’m just saying, I’ve needed a taste for a while now, too. Just give me a chance. Don’t run, please,” he pleaded softly, his grip tightening on your hand ever so slightly. He gave you that look, the one where his eyebrows would furrow so gently and his eyes gleamed softly, a desperation hidden in them. San wasn’t one to beg, but he couldn’t let you think he didn’t like you.

To his surprise, the confession didn’t make you smile. Instead, you felt your eyes well up with tears and a heavy weight lift off your shoulders. Slowly, you snaked around the table to San’s side of the booth, immediately wrapping your arms around one of his as you cried into his shoulder. He received you warmly, his free hand coming up to pat your head softly with sweet coos leaving his mouth, calming and affectionate.

“I thought you were gonna hate me forever, Sannie. I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, hiccuping softly, no even noticing your snot blotting San’s shirt. Such a mess.

San let out a breathy laugh, guiding your face up and off of his shoulder. He grabbed a napkin from the holder at the end of the table and wiped your nose with it gently, an affectionate air about him. He’d never seen you so emotional, and though his heart constricted seeing your tears, he was just happy to be the one taking care of you: his precious one. In a way, seeing you so worked up over something he saw as no big deal was endearing. Then again, almost everything about you was endearing to San.

He smiled down at you after wiping your nose, mumbling, “Pretty girl.” You could feel your cheeks go red instantly, feeling like it was your first time having a crush all over again.

He continued, his deep voice soft and sweet suddenly, “I could never hate you. Never, never,” he shook his head a bit, leaning in so that your foreheads were pressed together, “what I read only surprised me, but it would never make me hate you. So, don’t apologize for liking me. I like you, too.”

You swore your heart skipped a beat as he said that. In fact, it seemed like cardiac arrest would be the next step if he didn’t stop looking at you with those soft eyes.

“Never knew you had such a dirty mind,” he teased, rubbing your arm with his free hand gently.

And just like that, your eyebrows furrowed again and you hit his arm gently, too embarrassed to be sappy for long.

“Stop that! It’s not good to hold in all your thoughts, you know. You should write your feelings down,” you scolded, face bright red and lips pouting. San took the scolding at first, but it wasn’t much use. He was too focused on how cute your face looked all scrunched up.

And, he couldn’t deny it. Being scolded was pretty hot.

“There you go again,” San interrupted, sighing playfully. He couldn’t help but tease. You stopped mid-sentence, unsure of what you were even scolding him about now.

“Hm? What?” you asked softly, a little pout remaining on your lips.

San giggled a little, his eyes squeezing shut as he threw his head back. It was just too much fun for him. He leaned in closer to your face, close enough that your noses nearly met in the middle, whispering, “You’re too busy being angry to let me give you a taste of me.”

That cocky bastard. Cocky, and teasing, and sexy…

Your eyebrows quirked up and your cheeks burned even hotter as he leaned in closer, his mouth just next to your ear.

“That’s what you wanted, right? What you wrote in your diary… ahem, journal,” he whispered, need dripping from his words.

And yet, you were too embarrassed to speak. Or, maybe flustered was the right word. Either way, your brain didn’t quite work when San teased you normally, and especially not when his hands traveled to your waist, thumbs pressing into you gently.

“W-well, yes, but it was just a fantasy! I was just imagining! If you read more, you’d see I wrote about celebrities also…” you stammered, your hands searching for a place to rest along with your eyes.

“Oh, so you’re saying I’m not special?” San asked, biting his lip to hold back a cocky smile.

You gasped a little, hands instinctively finding San’s firm chest, “No, no! I just meant, just,” you panicked a bit, somehow losing your words yet again as San put his hands over yours.

“So, I am special? Am I special enough to have a taste of you?” San asked softly, still teasing, though there was an undercurrent of seriousness in his voice, something like an invitation.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Sannie… What would Eunbi think?” You ask softly, eyes round and full of worry. Unintentionally, you leaned further into San’s chest, prompting him to pull you into a hug. He cradled the back of your head, petting your hair softly.

“She doesn’t have to know yet. And you can always say no, baby. I know I tease you a lot, but it’s just because you’re so cute when you’re worked up. We can take things slow if you want. It’s just that journal entry… it made me…” San trailed off towards the end, his own cheeks getting pink now.

Softly, you reached up and ran your fingers through San’s hair, finally offering him a big smile, “Look at you blushing now.”

San blew a bit of air out of his nose, suppressing a shy laugh. “How couldn’t I blush? The thought of you wanting me that way…” He trailed off again, voice high and squeaky now that he was being teased. He pulled you close and buried his face in your neck, letting his lips place a soft kiss before he continued.

“I want to hear you say it, angel. Tell me I’m special and it’s more than just a fantasy. Tell me how you want me,” he mumbled into your neck, using every ounce of self restraint to stop himself from kissing it again.

And, in that moment, months of yearning for, pining over, and wanting San in every way came back to you. Your heart ached a bit, and so did the space between your legs. Everything you had imagined and told yourself was just a dream was coming true. It was true that it would be difficult to hide this whole thing considering Eunbi could read you like a book, but you couldn’t let this opportunity go.

“God, San, I want you in every way possible,” you breathed out, tilting your head back to give him better access to your neck. As soon as you did, he latched on to it, sucking a small bruise into it. You trembled a little, involuntarily letting a tiny whimper cross your lips as you whispered, “But I really need you to fuck me right now.”

“That’s all I need to hear, baby. Here,” he murmured, detaching himself from you quickly. He swiftly switched spots with you, leaving the booth seat and pulling you to the edge of it. He kneeled in front of you, one hand on your thigh and the other gripping the table still. Pushing the table towards the other side of the booth, San ran his hands up and down your thighs, eyes pleading and lust filled. “It’s alright if I taste you?”

“Please, need it so bad, Sannie,” you pleaded as he slowly undid your jeans, pulling them off your legs along with your panties in one fatal swoop. You were already dripping onto the seat and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

San pressed gentle kisses up your bare thighs, using a thumb to rub gentle circles into your clit. You gripped the top of the seat, already feeling a pulsing need in your heat as San’s mouth inched closer to it. His breath tickled the area, making your squirm, but what was worse was the look in his eyes. He stopped just in front of your cunt and looked up at you with dark, lustful eyes. In that moment, you understood San wanted this just as much as you did.

It was true. San couldn’t even recount the amount of times he pumped his fist in bed or in the shower thinking about you and your sweet pussy. And as much as it made him blush just thinking about it, he wanted nothing more in life than to bury his face in between your thighs some days, making you squirm and hearing what noises he could pull out of you. He wanted to have you, to know you on a deeper level. And what was more intimate than knowing the way a person tastes?

“Pretty,” he murmured into his direct line to heaven, his nose nudging your clit

gently. A long, hot stripe was licked up your pussy, making you twitch expectantly. Instantly, your mind began to grow foggy and your hips bucked, San whispering, “It’s alright, just relax, baby.”

And so, you did. You let your torso fall all the way back against the booth seat and your fingers tangle in his hair, a soft grunt leaving him as he dove in deeper. His tongue swirled around your entrance, dipping inside every once in a while as a quiet hum vibrated against you. He kept up his agonizingly slow pace on your clit with his thumb, savoring that way you tasted on his tongue.

Soon, though, San needed more of you. He needed to see you squirm more, hear you moan just for him. He pulled you even closer to the edge of the booth, another grunt leaving him as he had to pull his face away for a moment. He hoisted your legs up onto his broad shoulders, instantly attaching his lips to your clit, kissing it softly before sucking it.

A thick finger found its way inside of you, knuckle deep and wriggling. You squirmed, unable to hold back your noises. Even with just one finger, he filled you up better than you’d ever been before. He added a second finger a moment later, getting familiar with your body inside and out. Scissoring his fingers, he stretched your pussy out, mumbling something about how perfect it was.

“Fuck, San, even your fingers are big,” you slurred, back arching up in the air. San answered with another hum against your pussy, one you could tell was a shy giggle. He curled his fingers, letting his lips pulse around your clit now that he could tell you would finish soon. He slowed his pace down for a second, lifting his head to look up at you.

“You wanna cum? Want Sannie to make you cum?” He asked with a condescending pout, mirroring the one on your own lips. You nodded fervently, but it wasn’t enough for San.

“Gotta hear you say it, angel,” He furthered, eyes darkening as he held back another sly smile. You whined, kicking your legs gently. San tutted, swatting your thigh gently, “Don’t be so stubborn. Just tell Sannie.”

“Please, San, make me cum. Wanna cum all over your tongue,” you relented, hips bucking back up towards San’s face, nudging his chin against your clit. San cooed gently before diving back in. Lapping at your hole, he circled your clit relentlessly with his thumb. He wasn’t going to let you cum anywhere but his tongue.

It didn’t take long for you to do just what you’d asked for. Suddenly, your entire body began to tingle, radiating from the place between your thighs. Your toes curled and your knees tried to squeeze together, locking San’s head in place so that he could lap up every last bit of your essence that was flowing out of you. He made sure he got every last bit, taking his time to lick and kiss every last part of your slick, throbbing cunt.

Eventually, he pried your legs open and helped you sit up, smiling hard at your flushed out face. He swiped his chin with his thumb, bringing it up to his lips before licking off that last bit of you. He sighed, “Could live in that little hole forever, baby.”

You blushed gently, turning away from him shyly, prompting him to sit next to you. He grabbed you by your waist, pulling you onto his lap so your back was flush against his chest. “Hey, you can’t get all shy on me now. Where’s the feisty girl I know, hm?”

“How could I be mean after you just did that to me,” you pouted, making San laugh.

“You’re always mean to me,” he told you dramatically, grabbing your chin and turning your face towards his. Carefully, he grinded his hips up so that you could feel how hard he was. And he was. Just the taste of you had San throbbing, and the only reason he let you cum so quickly was so that he didn’t cum in his own pants.

You gasped softly, feeling San’s cock pulsing against your ass, then again when his thick fingers began circling your clit again. He rested his chin on your shoulder, speaking so softly into your ear, “And what’s really mean is how you made me so hard, I almost came from how good you tasted. You wouldn’t leave me like this, right, baby?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and turning around in San’s lap. His hands went straight to your ass, cupping it and pulling you down to grind against the tent in his pants. Your eyebrows furrowed gently as your hips moved back and forth on him, concentrated huffs falling from your tongue.

“Greedy girl,” he teased, nudging your jaw with the side of his head gently, “you want my cock in you?”

You nodded, pouting at him, “Please, San. Need you in me bad.”

San just laughed, guiding your hands to unzip his pants. He lowered his voice, looking down at where your crotches met, “Alright, you can have it. But, you gotta do the work now. You really tired me out there before.”

You whined again, this time out of pure exhilaration. Wasting no time, you unzipped San’s fly, yanking down his pants and boxers as best as you could. His cock sprung out, hard and red, begging you to take it.

But first, you giggled mischievously as you gave it a few pumps, enjoying its weight in your hand. San groaned, throwing his head back and cursing under his breath. It didn’t take long for him to grow impatient. He grabbed your waist and guided you to sit up better, right above his manhood.

You moved your hips around just to antagonize San as he’d done to you so many times. He let out a frustrated groan, burying his face against your neck yet again, kissing it softly as he pleaded, “Cmon, baby, don’t make me crazy here.”

“Wanted this for so long, Sannie,” you breathed out as you finally sunk down on him, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. San chuckled, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I know, baby, read all about it,” he smirked, that smug look on his face melting into a lovesick smile as you swatted at his chest. He couldn’t help but suck another bruise into the side of your neck before chiding, “Just teasing you, been thinkin’ about this for a while, too.”

He rutted up into you, hungry and needy, filling your slick heat completely. Your body twitched with each thrust, languid and deep, San’s silent confession. He was savoring his meal, taking it slowly and enjoying it wholly.

The only sound in the room was that of skin on skin, San’s hips snapping up into yours. He knew just the spot to hit inside of you. You cried out in pleasure, prompting San to speed up. The two of you, hungry and desperate to cum, moved together in a near perfect harmony.

“Fuck, this pussy was made for me,” San stuttered, trying to keep himself inside you, but it was hard with your bouncing and his thrusts, not to mention the wetness you spilled each time he left your body for a moment. San grunted in your ear, biting down on your shoulder a moment later. He was close. It didn’t help that everytime he thrusted up into you, you let out the sweetest sounds. San wanted to listen to them all the time, but even the thought of doing this again with you made him harder.

Honestly, his cock kept getting harder with each second it spent inside you. You were so warm, so tight. San was normally a patient man, but it was hard to take his time with you.

You couldn’t be helped either. As soon as he sunk his teeth into you, you came all over him. Wetness poured out of your cunt, coating San as you cried out his name. He followed suit soon afterwards, pulling out and cumming on your thigh. Quickly, San pulled you into a hug, still heaving as a big hand came up to cradle your head.

For a few minutes, the two of you sat together, your form still tucked into San’s warm embrace as he rocked you back and forth. You both tried to regain your breath, but every little touch made either one of you gasp softly before you turned your head the other way, embarrassingly lovesick.

San was warm, physically and figuratively. Sweat dripped off his forehead and fell onto yours, but you couldn’t care less if it meant being held by him. It was strong, secure, surreal… it was everything you had written about before. There were days when all you needed was a firm hug, to be held without the fear of falling, somewhere warm and safe. San was all of that, and you could feel it now. It wasn’t just something you wrote about anymore. It was real.

San noticed the face you made when you were thinking and his heart rate picked up. Was it not good? Did he disappoint you? He nudged your head with his shoulder, pouting, “What’s wrong? Was it not good?”

“What? No! It was amazing, I just… I like you a lot. And I like that I don’t have to imagine things anymore… Well, that is if you want to continue this,” you trailed off, blabbering embarrassedly. Maybe all he wanted was a hookup. Uneasiness settled into your features while amusement settled into San’s.

“Silly girl,” he scoffed, enamored by everything you were, “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

Your eyebrows shot up and your heart fluttered. You were never one to get so worked up so easily, but San had a way of making it happen. You cleared your throat, trying to regain some composure.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” you mirrored, acting coy now. San cupped your face, dimples on full display as he smiled at you, meeting your gaze. He leaned in and gave you his first real kiss of the night. Your lips molded together perfectly, San’s tongue swiping across your lower lip occasionally. You felt his warm cheeks against yours, which made you giggle sweetly. San’s heart melted.

The boy pulled away a moment later, letting his forehead rest against yours, “Does that answer your question, baby?”

You snorted in response, shaking your head bashfully. You wanted to hear him say it. San rolled his eyes in response, his hands moving down your back to rest on either side of your ass. Still, he smiled and whispered, “Yes, I want to be your boyfriend.”

You sighed sweetly, unable to hold back the big smile on your face. San delivered a little spank to your ass, playful and teasing, “Happy now?”

You nodded, allowing a little squeal of excitement to leave you. “Very happy, Sannie. Very happy,” you whispered back, laying your head on his shoulder to look around the dark diner.

Just then, your eyes spotted a little red light up in the corner of the diner, seemingly connected to a security camera. You jumped, whisper yelling at San, “Fuck! Fuck, the cameras, San!”

San jumped as soon as you did, following your gaze up to the security camera. He mirrored your panic for just a moment before pulling you further into the booth, pulling his jacket off to cover up your still bare bottom half.

And just as you thought you were going to have a heart attack, San laughed, and somehow, the uneasiness melted away. He ruffled your hair playfully, moving you off his lap and onto the seat before zipping his pants back up. He stood up, leaning down to your level, “I'll go take care of it, honey. Just clean up and get dressed. And finish your shake,” he told you, motioning to the table where your half empty, half melted chocolate shake sat.

But as soon as he turned around, he turned back and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before scurrying off to the office, ready to delete the footage. You couldn’t help but smile knowing San would take care of it. What a dream boy.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #minranghae #san x reader #san smut #ateez imagines #ateez san #san ateez #kpop smut #ateez fluff #kpop fluff #fluff #smut #san #choi san #sensesseries

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beenbaanbuun · 8 months ago

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boyfriend texts w/ jeong yunho

just something short to make up for the fact that i may not be posting for a few days (i suddenly got inspired and had to make this before i forgot every single one of my thoughts)

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez smut #yunho x reader #ateez texts #ateez smau #yunho texts #yunho fluff #yunho smut

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yundeob · 5 months ago

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the parent trap | KHJ

part 1 of the Night in Hollywood!series

☆ trope: exes to lovers!au, divorced!au

☆ pairing: producer!hongjoong x designer!reader, dad!joong x mom!reader

☆ warnings: nsfw (mdni), swearing, mentions of food, mentions of food poisoning, female desc. reader, drinking, suggestiveness, smut, slight!breeding kink, oral sex (f. receiving), overstim, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!) nipple play, titty sucking, marking, praise, slightdom!joong, blond!joong bc that itself is too much for me, mentions of (early) pregnancy, you’re both in your early thirties and make an unbelievably stubborn couple in this!

☆ synopsis: AS DIVORCED PARENTS to two twin daughters, you and hongjoong have your fair share of work cut out. Driving to piano lessons, cheering at hockey games, drop offs at each other’s houses, it can all be a little much. But could a relaxing summer retreat as a whole family possibly rekindle past emotions you’ve swept under the rug? . . .

☆ word count: 18.1k

☆ playlist: soulful strut by young-holt unlimited, l-o-v-e by nat king cole, just the way you are by billy joel, slipping through my fingers by abba, this will be (an everlasting love) by natalie cole

☆ a/n: it’s finally here. I can’t believe I’m writing this and saying it’s finally here oh my goodness. first off, thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has supported me with the series so far (shoutout to @kitten4sannie , @byuntrash101 and especially @desirehorizon for being amazing!) everyone’s sweet comments have been greatly appreciated, and I just hope this silly little fic brings a smile to your everyday lives.

ty for making writing worth it as a writer. now cue the opening credits!

“ABSOLUTELY NOT” Hongjoong says.

“But dadd,” she whines, clutching the wrinkled pamphlet closer to her chest. Eunseo’s small hands are covered in purple doodles her sister drew using a glitter pen.

“Why not?” the girl complains, shrugging her shoulders.

He sighs, pushing his glasses up with one hand as he continues typing away at the important document the producing company sent him on his laptop. He tries his best to reason with the child.

“Because, baby…” pausing to think for a moment before responding. “It would be hard for your mom and I to find a time that fits into our schedules. I’ve got work, and she must be busy as well.”

Eunseo glares at her father’s excuse.

Okay, yeah, the man knows it’s somewhat of a lie, himself.

She continues to protest by shoving the advertising pamphlet in her dads face and blocking his view of the screen. Thankfully, Hongjoong is used to these sort of work distractions, expertly avoiding her by craning his neck sideways and continuing to type away.

“But dad, it’s an amazing cottage resort! They’ve got a lake where you can go swimming in, a forest hiking trail, a bonfire to roast marshmallows and even a diner less than fifteen minutes away! So if you end up burning the camp food like last time, we can just order and eat in! Isn’t that great?” She beams.

He stops typing for a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he gives his first born a look that makes her immediately break into a sweet smile, batting her lashes and flashing him a look of innocence.

“Please?” She begs, standing on the edge of her feet as she gazes up at him. “The last time we went was when Eunbyul and me were toddlers.”

And how on earth could any dad’s heart not melt at the sight of his daughter trying to convince him about one harmless vacation?

Hongjoong wheels his office chair back, turning so he could look her in the eyes properly and tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

“Listen honey, I’m sorry, I really wish I could, but…” he trails off, looking back at the open tabs and file documents displayed on his computer.

Turning his head around and upon seeing a frown form on his daughter's face, he quickly reassures her.

“Once you finish your final piano recital tomorrow and your mom picks your sister up to take her to her hockey game, how about we go fishing the weekend afterwards?” he suggests, brows raising. “That’ll mean I have just the two of you all to myself.”

Eunseo mumbles under her breath, quiet but insistent enough that he catches it.

“But we’re supposed to be a family of four.”

She sulks, thinking of how that would leave you, her mother, left out of their plans. The arms holding the pamphlet up, ultimately fall down in defeat.

He places a peck on her forehead, patting her on the back. “You know, if you can get your mom to say yes, then I’ll think about it” he chuckles, knowing the highly unlikely probability of the event.

Adjusting his glasses, the producer goes back to his work, peeking his daughter slugging away from the corner of his eye.

Eunseo slumps her shoulders in defeat as she walks out of her dads office, turning the corner to see her twin sister, Eunbyeol, pressing her ears near the door with her neck outstretched. Clearly she’s been caught in the middle of trying to overhear their conversation.

The twin younger by fifteen seconds quickly rushes over, waiting expectantly.

“So? What did dad say?”

Eunseo exhales, throwing the information pamphlet away on the wooden floors and slumping against the living room couch.

“He’s totally not buggin. Said he wants to take us fishing next weekend instead. Just us three.” she grumbles.

Eunbyeol scrunches her nose at the idea.

“But dad sucks at fishing.”

Her sister groans, kicking her small feet against the couch in frustration. “I know!” Eunbyeol starts to worry, coming to sit beside her.

“Then how on earth are we going to get mom and dad to get back with each other again? They haven’t been in the same room since we were like, five!”

Her twin sister scoffs, “First, we gotta get them to have a proper conversation with each other. They barely even talk when they drop us off at each other's houses.”

Nobody truly knows why you and Hongjoong had divorced so suddenly when the girls were young. Not even themselves.

All they were used to were cold stares and one word replies shared amongst their parents, refusing to find harmony in their co-parenting.

Frankly, your girls have had enough of the performance you were both trying to maintain, looking past your expressions to realize you and your husband still held feelings for the other. It was only a matter of time and place in order to set you two up together, thus, the idea of an intimate, family getaway came into their minds.

After a few moments of letting her words hang in the air, Eunbyeol’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“That’s it!”

The older twin looks up quizzically, watching her sister jump off the couch and gaze at her excitedly.

“We’ll just have to force them to meet each other! We can always guilt trip them for dropping us off at their houses and making us play alone!”

Eunseo rolls her eyes at the idea. “Right, and how are we going to do that dummy? The only reason they’d do that, was if it was an emergency.”

Whoever said twin telepathy wasn’t a thing was a liar, because the second Eunseo catches onto what her sister is saying, the twins share a look of pure mischievousness, the gears in their brains working together as one.

With hushed whispers and quiet giggles, the twins immediately begin conducting their plan in secrecy near the corner of the living room, backs turned and in the middle of discussion when Hongjoong walks out of his office with an empty coffee mug.

“What are you guys doing over there?”

“Leave us alone! Family man traitor!” Eunbyeol shouts, holding a slightly hostile grudge to her father before turning back to whisper to her twin.

Hongjoong shakes his head, sighing as he heads into the kitchen.

“Then it’s perfect! I’ll stay here with dad once my piano recital is over, and then when Mom picks you up for your hockey game tomorrow, we’ll try convincing them together!”

Eunbyeol nods her head in agreement, eyes lighting up with excitement as she whispers in a hushed tone.

“And once both events end, we’ll pretend to be so sick that they have to take us to the nearby hospital.”

The other twin smirks. ”Where we’ll end up guilt tripping them into taking us to the cottage.”

They double high five in victory at their flawless plan, already waiting for tomorrow to come as soon as possible.

“A summer cottage?” you repeated, brows raising at the idea as you made a left turn onto your street.

Eunbyeol nods eagerly from the back seat after getting picked up, having ranted on and on about the ad in the pamphlet since the moment you saw her.

“It's an amazing establishment mom,” She boasts, making you laugh at her words while parking the car and unbuckling your seatbelt.

“They have everything you could possibly think of!”

“Oh, really?” You say skeptically, opening the door for her.

Eunbyeol is lost in the middle of passionately describing all the relaxing activities you could do by yourself, or rather per se, with a special partner together.

“There’s couples hiking retreats, couples canoeing, couples yoga… did I mention couples hiking retreats?” She confuses, retracing her words.

You roll your eyes and smile, keys jangling as you walk through the entrance of your apartment flat while balancing the bags and items in your hands.

Being a wedding dress designer and yet picking up your daughter from your ex-husband's house could’ve been ironic to some people. But after having split with Hongjoong since the girls were so young, you came to grow fond of having some independence as a divorcee, channeling your main focus into setting up your own bridal shop downtown.

It was through that hard work and focus that you did it all by yourself with no additional help.

You’d be lying if you said you haven't opened a bottle of red wine some nights due to loneliness as a divorced single mother, but at least that was what you had your daughters for.

You made sure to work just as hard as you did enjoy playing and spending time with them. After all, they were the light of your life and purpose for living.

Balancing the pizza you picked up on the way home, you set it down on the kitchen island, telling Eunbyeol to go wash her hands in the sink. The girl doesn’t stop ranting.

“There’s usually only two rooms in the cottage, so you’ll have to sleep together with dad, but I guess you won't mind, would you? After all, you were once married” She rolls her eyes, reaching for the soap.

You shake your head with a sigh. ”What is up with you and getting me and your father together in the same room?” you muttered as you took out the plates and utensils.

Eunbyeol eventually walks back to you, wiping her hands on her baggy jeans before sitting on the kitchen stool.

“It’s not that I’m obsessed, Mom. Actually, Eunseo and I are just dying to get away this summer now that school is over.”

Turning around from plating the pizza and salad, you chastise your daughter, telling her to sit with her bum flat on the stool so she doesn’t fall. She immediately listens, carrying on with her persuasion.

“We just want you and dad to get the chance to relax as well, that’s all!” her mouth full from a bite of hot, greasy pizza.

You smile, wiping your washed hands on the kitchen towel and coming over to wrap your arms around her affectionately.

“Spending time with you and Eunseo every week is how I relax,” you assured her, smothering your baby with kisses on her cheek.

Byeol lets out a squeal of annoyance, taking another bite of her pizza. “You’re squishing me!” She tries hiding her smile, failing when you lean in closer.

You pull back in laughter, ruffling her hair as you walk away while reminding her.

“Oh! Don’t forget you’ve got your hockey game tonight!”

Byeol chews faster, munching on the soft crust and counting down the hours on the kitchen clock.

She smiles to herself.

“Don’t worry, I know!”

“What do you mean you need to go to the hospital?” Hongjoong asks in a worried voice, standing against the women’s washroom stall. He holds Eunseo’s congratulatory flower bouquet for first place in hand, feeling the stares of multiple women passing by, clearly judging him for being in the ladies room with them.

“Honey, is everything all right?” He asks worriedly. A string of groans come from behind the door.

“You need to leave!” one old lady thrusts her walking cane at the father, lips pursed in dissatisfaction.

Eunseo did such a phenomenal job tonight for her piano recital, that Hongjoong was shocked to see his daughter clutch her stomach first thing after running down the steps of the stage, dashing to the washrooms.

He whips his head back. “My daughter’s having a bit of a situation in here, okay miss? Have a bit of understanding!” He barks frustratedly out loud to the onlookers before speaking softly back to the stall door.

“Eunseo, baby, talk to me, is everything alright in there? Are you sure you need to go to the hospital? Is it that bad?”

The girl continues her acting performance, letting out fake groans while typing furiously on her cellphone.

“Oh the pain! I think I might have food poisoning, dad!”

Seolie: How far along are u

Byeolie: Mom’s outside, banging to come in.

Seolie: same, I told dad I needed to go to the hospital.

Eunseo lets out another groan of pain, causing Hongjoong to worry even more.

“That’s it, Eunseo. Let me in and help you” he decides, searching his bag for a painkiller or at least some sort of medication for relief.

The girl frantically checks her phone, eyes lighting up at the new message.

Byeolie: Mom’s getting the car to take me to the hospital. I’ve got her convinced to call dad soon.

Eunseo types as fast as her small fingers can move, even faster than when she performed her piano solo from before.

Seolie: Then what do I do????

Hongjoong gets slightly suspicious at the lack of sound coming from the stall, calling to his daughter again.

“Eunseo? Everything alright?”

At the next notification, the girl makes up her mind, getting the signal from her sister.

Byeolie: play dead. Mom calling soon. See ya there.

The actress gets into character, gaining her composure before unlocking the washroom stall and holding her stomach as she stumbles into her dad’s surprised arms.

“Eunseo!”

She wails, falling limp. “Oh, dad! Please! Take me to the hospital, it hurts too much!”

It’s truly a mystery which parent she got her acting skills from.

But she doesn’t have to tell him twice at that point. The man is already piggy backing his fainted daughter and sprinting out of the ladies washroom, reassuring her with soothing comments as he makes a beeline for the parking lot.

“Stay with me baby!” He huffs, unbeknownst to Eunseo who peeks one eye open.

Only after he straps his daughter in the backseat and is turning on the engine does he receive a sudden phone call from you, pressing the speaker for the whole car to hear your panicked voice. You break the news to him first.

“Eunbyeol’s severely sick. She fainted right after her hockey game.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened. “What?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “She was holding her stomach saying she ate something wrong. Is Eunseo okay?”

Hongjoong puts the stick into drive, backing out of the parking lot and replying in a hurry.

“She’s hit with the same thing right now. I’ll meet you at the Hospital in ten” he grunts, sweat forming on his brow as he speeds through traffic, not caring if he gets a ticket.

Had he looked in his rear view mirror, he would have seen Eunseo sagging near the car door, clutching her stomach with a small grin on her face.

You never liked the hospital.

The sounds of babies crying and hospital beds wheeling become the background noise, shifting nervously in your seat that was in the emergency pediatrics unit waiting area.

Hongjoong has his eyebrows furrowed, hunched over one seat beside you as he hangs his head in his hands, knees bouncing up and down. A middle aged nurse nasally calls on the next family waiting from the front desk, boredom laced in her voice.

You sigh, uncrossing your legs and choosing to bite at the fingernail on your right hand once realizing you’ve already done the same to all the ones on your left.

“It’s all my fault.” Hongjoong confesses, suddenly sitting still.

You glance to your left, watching as he sits up slowly.

“Last thing they ate together would’ve been at my house. I probably made them sick with something I fed them,” he dejects, hanging his head down in shame.

“It’s all my fault, god I’m so stupid!” He beats himself up.

You have half the mind to snap at your ex-husband, anger already filling up inside you earlier when you heard Eunbyeol suggest it was something she ate at her dad’s house. You really did want to yell at him for being so bad of a chef that he sent his own daughters to the emergency pediatrics unit, undeniably relieved that Seonghwa was working tonight’s shift.

But those cruel words sitting on the tip of your tongue are thrown away when you glance down to see your ex-husband missing a shoe on one of his feet.

Hongjoong rushed over here so fast with Eunseo that he left his shoe behind like some sort of fairytale, Cinderella. He hasn’t even realized he wasn’t wearing one right now.

You exhaled, knowing that if there's one thing you’ve learned while parenting, it was that to have patience and understanding was a virtue. Even for your ex-husband.

“It’s not your fault,” you sighed, staring at your hands folded in your lap.

It feels awkward when Hongjoong stops tugging at his blond locks to look at you in surprise, continuing to speak as you place a gentle hand on his thigh.

“That could’ve happened to anyone. We don’t know yet if it was because of the food. Let’s just pray and wait and see” your voice being a sign of reliability to him.

The man is a little shocked at your supportive nature to tell you truthfully. He delivers all the things he needs to say through his grateful gaze alone, reciprocating a small smile.

“Didn’t think I’d see you guys tonight.” Seonghwa chuckles, walking in before Hongjoong has the chance to reply. He comes from the patient's room wearing his dashing, white doctor's coat. “Together, at that” he mumbles under his breath before looking up and flashing you a polite smile while giving his worried friend a soft pat on the back.

Hongjoong holds his breath when he asks: “How are they?”

“Better,” he tells him, flipping through some papers on his clipboard. “But it was a big shock to their bodies. They need some rest at the moment.”

The pediatrician tries not to show his smile, standing in front of you and Hongjoong while hiding his expression behind his clipboard as per his niece’s request.

To be fair, if someone had told Seonghwa earlier that evening that he would receive a fifteen minute pep talk from his best friend's twin daughters that day in the emergency unit, he would’ve laughed in their faces.

Alas, life was always filled with surprises. Here’s what went down thirty minutes earlier in the hospital room:

“We’re trying to get them back together,” Eunseo announced confidently, sitting next to her sister on the hospital bed.

Eunbyeol nodded, eyeing the dumbfounded medical professional standing in front of them with his clipboard tucked under his arm, hands in his pockets.

“So.. you guys don’t need an IV drip?”

“It’s this whole entire thing, Uncle Hwa, we’ll explain to you later.”

It took a minute before Seonghwa reclaimed his composure as an adult, chastising the twins for pulling a false alarm over something like this. He made sure to make them promise him they wouldn’t do something stupid like this again. But after that, of course Seonghwa is immediately pairing to help them with their plan on getting his best friend back together with his ex-wife. The man is just tired of watching Hongjoong beat himself up half the time about missing you.

“So you essentially want me to lie about the fact that you guys don’t have food poisoning, and were just faking this whole thing so your mom and dad would have a reason to see each other.”

The twins nod, one of them pointing out. “And make sure to tell them we’re fine of course. Maybe throw in we’re like, really sick, but that we’ll live so it’s best if we get rest.”

“At like a cottage or something” the other chimes in, wiggling her eyebrows at the hint.

The doctor sighs, scratching his neck sheepishly.

When Seonghwa leads you and Hongjoong into the hospital room, both of you feel awful seeing your babies laying in their beds, dressed in the children’s gowns.

Eunbyeol peeks open her eyes first, voice hoarse (she practiced).

“Mom? Dad? Is that you?” she groans, pretending to clutch her stomach in pain.

Both you and Hongjoong rush to each child, grasping their hands and stroking their heads softly with sympathy.

“Hey baby, I’m here” you coo.

“I’m so, so sorry girls, it was probably all my fault. I should’ve never cooked for you guys earlier today.” their dad cries out painfully, looking down in shame.

You come to stand beside him, reassuring them both. “But what’s important is that you guys get better now. We want to make sure you get the rest you need” you say, making eye contact with your ex-husband.

Seonghwa clears his throat, crossing his arms as he flashes a wink to the girls behind your backs.

“They seemed to have been mentally exhausted as well,” He asks on purpose, watching as you and Hongjoong share a look with each other. “Have they been receiving proper familial support at home?”

“I can’t even remember the last time I saw my parents in the same room together.” Eunseo weakly admits, showing a faint smile.

As parents, you and Joong feel the most amount of guilt anyone could ever feel. You realize how exhausting and stressful the pickups and drop offs to each other's houses could’ve been, especially when you two were so busy with your respective jobs to spend time with your daughters now that it was summer break for them.

Hongjoong smiles, holding both their hands and making a promise to them.

“Make sure to rest you two. Tell me, is there anything you guys need right now? Anything you guys want I'll make sure to get it for you.”

”Do you guys have crunchy ice?” Eunbyeol blurts out loud, breaking her weak facade.

Eunseo almost wants to shoot a glare at her sister but she realizes both of you are still looking at them.

“I can get you some ice!” Seonghwa quickly assures you and his nieces, mouthing to them good luck for support as he shuts the door behind him.

You sigh, coming over to stroke Eunseo’s hair and caress Eunbyeol’s hand.

“Well? Is there anything else you guys need from us?” Hongjoong states, eyes soft in sympathy. You nod, waiting to hear their response.

“Let us know girls, anything at all.”

Eunbyeol and Eunseo finally take their chance, sharing a hesitant look before speaking at the same time.

“We want to go to the cottage”

“Together,” Eunseo says.

“As a family.” Eunbyeol adds in.

You and Hongjoong share a silent look.

Later into the night, the twins are finally discharged from the hospital, deciding that they would stay at Hongjoong’s mothers apartment which was closest nearby, considering they were both tired and immediately needed a place to rest.

The car ride home is awkwardly silent, even as the kids are (what you think) to be fast asleep, hockey gear and a bouquet of flowers riding with them in the backseat.

It was at their request for you to drive them to their grandmother's house, wanting both their parents with them till the ride home. Hongjoong settled on driving your car and dropping all of you off, planning to take a taxi back home and pick up his own car in the morning. Despite your protest on how inconvenient that was, he insisted as he didn’t want to disappoint the twins.

But suddenly the man begins to regret his offer, currently driving in complete silence on the highway, eyes facing forward and shoulders tense. Quiet FM nightly jazz plays from the radio.

You’re sitting passenger seat up front with him in what feels like forever, looking solely at the reflections in the window, the street lamp lights scattering across your face as you travel through the nighttime traffic. It’s awkward being together like this.

You hear him clear his voice, speaking softly so he doesn’t wake up the girls.

“So, are we really considering that cottage retreat?” he glances back at you.

You sit up, straightening your back and exhaling as you secretly wanted to have avoided that topic of discussion.

“We can’t Hongjoong,” you reasoned, shaking your head. “I couldn’t possibly take a whole vacation from the dress shop. Not unless I had someone take care of it for me, which my staff probably aren’t ready to do.” you explained, voice tense.

Hongjoong nodded, understanding your point of view. “I realize that. I’ve got a few projects I have to record and demo with Eden.” he tells you, an arm placed on the wheel with his sleeve rolled up. His veins become perfectly outlined as he passionately tells you about his producing job.

He’s so hot like that.

Jesus what were you thinking? Cursing your mind as you clear your voice and try to change the topic.

“How’s everything been going then?” you say stiffly. He nods, still awkward with sharing conversation with you.

“Um, it's going good. You?” he asks.

“Fine.” you swallow.

Silence prevails. He’s first to speak again, building the courage to say the next thing in his mind.

“I’m willing to put things on hold if I need to.” He confesses.

Hongjoong continues to drive normally after having said that. Now it becomes your turn to stare at him now, watching how he glances at the side mirror, switching lanes swiftly like the pro-driver he was.

“What do you mean?”

“Honestly, I think it would be good for the girls,” he admits, calling you by your name. Even hearing him call you your name feels weird. It feels foreign, like it almost wasn’t yours.

“Hongjoong-” you warn, shaking your head at the warry possibility.

“Just hear me out, alright?” He states firmly, making you quiet.

He glances back into the rear view mirror, watching your girls peacefully asleep with their heads leaning against each other.

“It’s been almost seven years. Seven years since they’ve last seen their parents speak to each other without breaking into a fight. Tonight was the first time they saw us together without having to plan a drop off and pick up in god knows how long.”

Hongjoong licks his lips, gripping the wheel as he emphasizes. “Seven years since they’ve gotten a goodnight hug and kiss from us at the same time in one place.”

You scoff, turning to face him properly this time. “I don’t know why you’re acting as though we can make this request of theirs come true Hongjoong. This is a big deal-”

“It is a big deal!” he exclaims, trying to get his point across. “I can see how badly our daughters want us to both be in their lives more, to acknowledge the fact that the other still exists after splitting apart.”

He sighs. “Us, not acknowledging each other’s existence at all is worse than if we had to see each other regularly.”

You bite your lip, getting angry. “So what Hongjoong? You’re saying you want to suddenly play family with them at the cottage?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Do you really think we can pretend to be normal parents to them without fighting like we are now? There’s a reason why our current schedules work. Don’t make me seem like the bad guy for not wanting to take them.” You glared, pointing a finger at him. His jaw locks.

“You fully knew the lifestyle changes we would need to make as a couple when you signed those legal papers—”

“Well then did you also predict everything that happened after you brought me those papers?” He spits like venom, gaze hard as he clenches the wheel.

You blink your eyes at his words, pressing your knees together at his sudden attack.

You don’t remember clearly if you even meant what you said at the time when you threw those papers at him seven years ago. But all you still know is that Hongjoong was just as stubborn as you were, making up his mind to sign them in the end regardless.

Looking in the rear view mirror, you muttered to him quietly.

“Don’t raise your voice. The kids are sleeping.”

Their dad scoffs, muttering a sure, under his breath as he switches lanes.

The kids were in fact, not sleeping, and very much awake. Eyes closed but ears wide, as they were listening in to the first real discussion their parents were having in so long. Or perhaps it was an argument?

At the right turn into his mother’s apartment’s underground parking lot, Hongjoong shuts off the engine, getting out of the car without another word and shutting the door in your face.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, hear the back door open.

You watch in the corner of your vision as his demeanor immediately changes, softly caressing Eunseo and Eunbyeol’s hair.

“Hey girls, we’re here now. You gotta wake up.” He coos.

They yawn theatrically, pretending to stretch their arms.

“So soon?” Eunbyeol mumbles.

A few feet ahead, you see your mother in law walking out from the elevators, a knit cardigan wrapped around her small frame. You smiled, getting out of the car and greeting her first.

“We’ll leave Eunbyeol’s hockey gear with you for the night if that’s alright Mom-”

Hongjoong’s words are cut off as the woman who birthed him walks straight past him, ignoring him and immediately taking you in her warm embrace, eyes forming crescent moons.

“How are you my dear?” she asks, causing you to smile and hug your mother in law affectionately. “It’s been so long, I’ve missed you so much!”

Despite the break up between you and Hongjoong, you were thankful for one thing, and that was the fact that your relationship with Hongjoong’s family stayed strong, especially with Mrs. Kim.

“I’ve missed you too” you tell her genuinely. “I’ve been good, I’m just sorry for dropping them off so suddenly at your place,” You say, feeling apologetic for waking her up late into the night.

“We had a bit of a situation,” you explain, watching as Hongjoong collects their things.

She shakes her head, reassuring you. “Nonsense! Why would you be sorry for that.” she grins, turning her head at the car. “And where are my girls, may I ask?”

At the sound of her voice, Eunbyeol and Eunseo dash out from the back seat and into their grandmother's welcoming arms, pressing soft kisses to her cheeks.

Hongjoong is the only person that stands all alone, awkwardly holding the bouquet of flowers with heavy hockey gear and a duffle bag perched on his shoulder.

“Oh, how I’ve missed my little squirrels!” she exclaims using their signature pet name and happily reuniting with her grandchildren.

She turns her head, face falling at the sight of her son and lips pursing into a frown.

“And where on earth have you been? Not giving me a call!” she snaps, slapping her son on his back. Eunbyeol laughs out loud while Eunseo tries to keep her giggles in.

You hear your ex husband protest to her while you close the back seat door.

“OW! I’ve been busy alright?” he mumbles, massaging his sore arm.

Your mother in law takes both the twins hand’s on each side, nodding her head to you.

“Leave all the kid’s stuff to Hongjoong, he’ll take care of it darling” she smiles sweetly, sending a glare to her son to take a hint and be more of a gentleman to you. She walks away with her smiling granddaughters, exchanging light-hearted giggles and excitement. “Bye, mom!” The twins wave back.

Hongjoong cranes his head up, sighing at the ceiling before taking Eunseo’s piano bag that you were holding in your hand in one swift motion, walking reluctantly behind the three.

“Stay here. I’ll drop them off.” he briskly walks away, leaving you stunned.

Hongjoongs words from before can’t help but replay inside your head as you wait for him to come back down.

Before you guessed it, it was already the ride back home, and the car was painfully silent once again. In reality, you were each thinking deeply to yourselves about the possibility of the cottage retreat. Could you really be a mom and dad together as a couple to your kids?

“Are you giving your plants enough water?” He brings you out of thought, the car slowing down as he turns onto your street.

You look up, giving him a confused look.

Hongjoong nods in direction, following his eyes to look at the measly, dying flower pot perched on the steps of your flat’s entrance as the car stopped to a halt. “You know, it’s really hard for plants to die when they’re outside.” He says in amazement at your shit gardening.

You scowl at him, asking him when he became such a plant expert all of a sudden.

He continues to poke fun at you, smirking when he undoes his seat belt. Hongjoong suddenly leans over to help you unbuckle your own, face dangerously close to yours as he lowers his voice.

“Unless their owner just really sucks at taking care of them.”

His eyes gaze into yours for a split second, feeling your face heat up from the proximity. You let out a tiny gasp for air when he leans back in his own seat.

“Fuck off” you replied harshly.

“You should give them some more care,” he suggests, ignoring your swearing.

You don’t reply to his stupid comment, refusing to look at him as you get out of the car.

“I can go in by myself” you press, adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder. You didn’t think it was necessary to draw out your time with this man any further.

Hongjoong straightens his dress shirt as he moves to your side of the car, shoving his own car keys in his trousers as he locks your doors and hands over the keys. You take them hesitantly, watching as he rests against the car door, strong arms crossing against his chest.

“Think about it at least.” he mutters to you.

You look at him, eyes shutting softly when you realize he was still talking about the cottage getaway. Sighing his name is exasperation, you run a hand through your hair.

“Hongjoong-”

“Would it kill you to spend a week with me and our daughters?” He scoffs as he asks you straight up, looking at you in a way that makes you hesitate to say your next words. You observed one hand come to shuffle with the silver lighter in his trouser pockets.

You stayed silent for a moment, genuinely thinking back to your daughters and what this meant to them if you went. What this would mean for you two as well.

Finally, you look up to him, returning his gaze.

“I need time.”

He nods, face serious. “I understand.”

“Let me think about it.” You mumbled.

And with that you turn around, walking up the steps to your front door. At the sight of your flowerpot, you quickly remember his comment and snatch it in your hands, slamming the door shut to Hongjoong as he finally lets a soft grin break out on his face. Letting his back come up from leaning against the door, Hongjoong nods his head, satisfied enough at that answer, as he walks silently down the road while opening his Uber app.

At least you’d give it some thought.

Okay, maybe now you’ve given it too much thought.

Sipping your fifth glass of wine of the night, you’re sitting, back hunched over with your knees tucked into your chest on the breakfast table chair, zoning out as your best friend Sophie continues barking at you and your inconsistent commitment.

“I don’t even understand why you’re considering going! Does the man realize what it takes to leave your own shop for a full week?” she fumes, adjusting her royal jelly sheet mask while cursing at your ex-husband for pressuring you into going to the family retreat.

“Not everyone can just pack their bags and go swimming at the cottage, Jesus Christ” she rolls her eyes.

“He didn’t pressure me,” you told her pouting. “He wants to do it for the kids” you mumbled looking down as you defended him.

You invited your best friend Sophie over to your apartment that evening for your weekly slumber party, a time you each looked forward to dedicating a bottle of wine and chardonnay over some gossip, spilling all the uneventful drama in your lives.

Perhaps you revealed too much drama to your best friend tonight.

“I don’t think I would mind going, to be honest” you hiccup, words slurring. “I haven’t had a vacation in so long, Sophie, and the girls really want to go! I would feel bad for leaving them with nothing to do this summer.” confessing through the alcohol.

Cheeks flushed, you sigh as you play with your silk robe mindlessly while Sophie shakes her head at you, one hand coming up to snap at you and bring you back to reality.

“Hello? Earth to Ms. Divorcee?” She sighs, rolling her eyes in frustration. “You said you wanted to set boundaries with him! To cut the line straight and keep your distance so you could get over your feelings for him! Show him who’s boss!”

“He said he’s willing to put his music projects on hold for us,” you muttered quietly, the thought making your heart weak as you smiled at the memory of Hongjoong teasing you about your flower pot. Your chest blossomed with warmth now.

Sophie sighs, shaking her head as she thinks just how differently you were feeling four wine glasses ago.

“Listen, honey, I’m just warning you in advance” she sips the golden liquid in her glass before placing it on the table.

“Take it from a girl who’s had three divorces. I mean look at me! I’m still somewhat young, I’ve got no kids, no responsibilities, filthily rich, and not once have I had to pay for my own divorce settlement fees!”

You nod mindlessly, eyes blinking softly under the bright kitchen lights.

“What you need is a provider, sweetheart,” she crooned, caressing your head.

“A guy who won’t leave you stressed and unimpressed like Hongjoong does.”

You continue mindlessly nodding your head at her words, ears perking up when you hear small footsteps come down the stairs.

“Hi mom, Hi aunt Sophie.” Eunbyeol greets, eyes glued to her iPad that Eunseo trails after from behind, whining how it was now her turn to play Super Mario.

“Hi girls,” Sophie replies like the cool, hot aunt she is, eyes shut as she’s concentrating on giving herself a collarbone massage right now.

“Hey sweetheart,” you mumbled, smiling at your daughters standing near the fridge getting a glass of water.

“Say, did your dad tell you guys anything about the cottage?” You blurt out loud, avoiding the look that Sophie gives you. Eunbyeol looks up from the glowing screen, ears perking in interest. “No, not much, why?”

Eunseo snatches the iPad from her twin, coming over to you. “Did Dad say we’re going?” She asks enthusiastically, eyes widening. Sophie is quick to assure them.

“Now of course not girls, your mother here was just-”

“Oh fuck it, why not?” you say confidentially, shining a bright smile. “Let’s go to the cottage!” You exclaimed in drunk excitement, all three girls staring at you with their jaws hanging at your sudden profanity as well as your final decision.

Oh, how dangerous the effects of a bottle of wine were.

Eunseo and Eunbyeol immediately embrace each other in a passionate hug, squealing in excitement that their plan actually worked. You and Hongjoong were now both convinced. “Oh my gosh, we’re going to go as a family!” They cried in happiness. You giggled at their joy, reciprocating their enthusiasm.

Sophie leans back in her seat defeated, shaking her head with pursed lips as she picks up the whole Chardonnay bottle and sips it.

“Oh whatever. . . This isn’t my problem anyways.”

When Hongjoong drops by the next morning to pick up Eunbyeol and Eunseo from your house for the weekend, he can’t lie but be a little heartbroken at the way his daughters ignore his kiss to them first thing. They instead, immediately shove the cottage advertising pamphlet in his face with victorious grins.

“See! We told you mom would say yes!”

“Say yes to what?” He pouts, avoiding the paper and obsessively trying to peck a kiss to each of his daughter's cheeks. The idea of going to the cottage almost slipped the busy man’s mind after almost a week of no news from you.

“What’s so important that you guys don’t even say hi to me anymore?” he sulks.

Eunseo giggles, fighting back her laughter when her dad tries to tickle her with his kisses.

“We’re going to the cottage!”

Hongjoong stills himself, leaning back to make sure he heard her correctly.

“We’re what?”

Eunbyeol, taking after her mother, has a cheeky expression on her face as she places her hands on her hips and sasses her father.

“Pack your bags and swimming shorts, daddy, we’re going on a family vacation!”

In perfect timing, you manage to stumble out your front door, coffee mug in hand and mid-yawn when you realize Hongjoong is already staring at you in shock.

“What?” you snap, still grumpy from your slight hangover. “You’ve never seen a woman wake up before?” You replied, asking your kids if they packed all their stuff.

The twins watch as their dad stands up from his crouched position.

“You’re going to go to the cottage?”

At Hongjoongs words you freeze, everything coming back to you all at once. The wine, the twins, the promises, it hits you like a moving truck.

“Well…”

“No take backs mom! You said it yourself last night that you were excited to go to the cottage!” One of the twins pointed out.

Hongjoong doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

“I-I did say that, didn’t I?” You chuckled sheepishly, toes curling at the rookie mistake you made in parenting 101: saying yes when you should’ve said no.

Your ex-husband quickly tells the kids to put their things in the trunk, promising he’ll be right with them after talking to you. As Hongjoong dashes up the stairs in his white polo golf shirt, you feel slightly exposed being in only your silk slip dress and robe.

“I didn’t realize you’d be here so early” you mumbled, looking down at your toes.

He ignores you. “So I’m guessing we’re going then?” He smirks, looking at you with an expression of undeniable cockiness and peaked interest.

You shrug nonchalantly. “Let’s surround the focus of this trip towards the kids” you remind him, straightening your back.

Hongjoong nods, agreeing with you wholeheartedly. “Of course, that was my intention from the beginning,” he smiles.

You swallow the lump in your throat, unnoticing his stare drop at your breasts perking up from the cool morning air. You jump in surprise as you hear the honking of the car.

“Come on, love birds! We gotta go back to dad’s to get our swimming stuff!” Eunbyeol cackles, leaning from the backseat into the driver's seat window. Eunseo already begins journaling in her hello kitty note book, an organized list of what she’ll need to bring to the cottage.

Hongjoong looks back at his daughters, before looking back at you with a smile.

“Let’s keep in touch about details, alright?”

You nod silently, gripping your mug. At the sound of your nextdoor neighbor coming out, Hongjoong contemplates for a moment before quickly leaning forward, shielding you from their view with his backside. Clearing his throat, Hongjoong nods his head to the inside of your house, leaning forward to whisper to you.

“Think, um, you should get inside, it’s getting cold,” he mutters, his dimples faintly showing. You glare up at him, “I’m going to say goodbye to my own daughters”. Still clueless to what he was referring to. He grins, shrugging his shoulders before looking at you.

“If you insist. Just thought you wouldn’t want your neighbor to see what I can see, would you?”

You gasp at his words, looking down at your chest to see what he means before wrapping your robe around you. You quickly waved goodbye to your girls before you shut the door in Hongjoong’s smug face.

It’s now become the second time you’ve done that.

Thankfully, the next time you see Hongjoong you’re wearing a much more appropriate outfit. In a white cotton blouse and casual jean shorts, your effortlessly chic vacation outfit was the only highlight today, considering the day you had been internally dreading for so long was finally here.

You tried to take deep breaths while scurrying all over your house and finishing some last minute packing. Reassuring yourself that a family getaway couldn’t kill you.

Right?

Reservations at the cottage were made over the phone last week, booking a house with the perfect lake side view, access to the forest trail and close proximity to the offered activities. It would only be a seven day stay, both in your respective rooms, (you clearly emphasized you and Hongjoong had to have separate ones) while the twins would lodge together. You had no intention of interacting with your husband alone together on this trip, apart from the quote on quote, ‘family bonding times’ you promised your daughters. And yet why were you here sweating nervously like a sinner in church?

“What a hot lady!” Eunbyeol wolf-whistles at your outfit when she walks through your bedroom doors. You jump at the sudden entrance, realizing Hongjoong was already here to pick you up with the girls.

A pair of black designer sunglasses slightly too big for her sat perched on her nose. Eunbyeol smiles before jumping onto your bed of clothes. You already know Hongjoong must’ve spoiled her and her sister with those, buying them a pair each.

“C’mon Byeol, off the bed” you quipped, packing your toothbrush as she reluctantly slugged off the covers.

Your suspicions of Hongjoong buying them designer items are correct when Eunseo walks in, classily perching her matching white ones on her head before chastising her sister's tasteless compliment.

“Elegant. She’s Elegant, Byeol. You don’t just go around wolf-whistling at people.” she rolls her eyes.

“You look very pretty by the way, mom”

You smiled, nevertheless pleased at both their compliments and thanking them before going back to doing a last minute check of your things.

Sun cream, clothes, makeup bag, swimsuit…

At the thought of your swimsuit you immediately blush, thinking back to how Sophie forced you to borrow her yellow bikini that left very little to the imagination. Despite your protests that you wouldn’t be needing it, she insisted.

Hongjoong is last to walk through your front doors, swinging his car keys around his index finger and calling to his three girls from the downstairs foyer of your apartment. The man is clearly excited for the trip, he can’t lie.

“Come on ladies, we’re gonna miss the chance to swim in that lake if we don't leave soon!”

Hongjoong is your typical dad, except for the fact that he does not mess with dad!fashion. The producer is dressed classily from top to bottom in a loose-fitting designer button up with a pair of reformed denim pants, his pearl earrings and gold piercings complementing his outfit perfectly.

Kim Hongjoong didn't play when it came to fashion. Even as a father.

“Coming!” You exclaimed, ushering your kids out of your bedroom and making your way down the stairs with your suitcase. Seeing that it would only be a week at the cottage, you tried to pack light, though you may have to reconsider that thought with the way you struggled to lift the case properly.

“Need some help?”

A strong hand comes to help you, immediately inhaling the scent of Hongjoong’s cologne as he brushes his knuckles near yours. “Here, I’ve got it” he assures, making you step back and admire your undeniably fine husband.

Ex-husband. You meant Ex-husband. Scratch out the fine as well.

You watch from behind as he struts out the foyer, smiling and joking playfully with his twin daughters, carrying your luggage out the door with them.

What was this trip doing to you?

Once you’re on route to the cottage resort and the GPS is set, the car is blissfully quiet, each and every one of you surprisingly at peace. Jittery excitement still lays deep in your daughters' minds as you overhear them talk about what they want to do first once they arrive.

Hongjoong’s 2000s soft rock and ballad playlist is playing quietly throughout the speakers right now, relishing in the music as luscious, green trees flash by you from the passenger window.

While Byeol and Eunseo distract each other on their own, Hongjoong turns to talk to you.

“I’m not going to lie, it’s been forever since I’ve been on a road trip” he smiles.

You copy him, feeling good in the moment. “Same, I don’t remember the last time I went to one.” you confessed, thinking only of all the times you had in the past when you were a child and as a teenager.

Even back to when you were a young college student, wide eyed and so innocent to the chaos of your first college retreat with Hongjoong. That was the summer you two began dating, and boy were you fools in love. You cautiously look to your husband driving, bringing up past memories.

“Do you remember that one college retreat we went on during second year?”

The corners of Hongjoong’s lips are already grinning upwards, smiling as he reciprocates your expression.

“Right, like I could forget that summer” he replies sarcastically, gripping the steering wheel.

It’s an easy memory to digest. A time when you were both so young, filled with nothing but dreams and passionate love for one another. Love so deep, that you remember the nights you’d spend locked up with Hongjoong under the sweaty bed sheets inside your cabin, blissfully making love until the sun would rise and he would finally kiss you to sleep. Perhaps, it was that summer when you realized you were going to marry and be with Kim Hongjoong forever someday.

Though it’s too bad, someday already passed.

“Do you remember when Seonghwa got so drunk he ended up confessing to Jieun in front of all the girl’s sleeping cabins?” Hongjoong snickers, relishing in the embarrassing memory his friend always hates him for bringing up. You laugh out loud, remembering the memory. “Oh my god, yes!” You turned to face him, shaking your head. “In nothing but his underwear, right?”

Hongjoong nodded, smiling with one hand on the steering wheel as he drove.

“Didn’t he end up jumping into the lake afterwards? With you having to go in and save him as well?” You share your laughter with one another, catching up on past memories as your twin daughters listened attentively in the back, reliving them with you together.

That's what makes the hour and half drive from the city into the wilderness feel so short, finally pulling into the graveled parking lot of the vast cottage resort. White suburban cottages lined along one another, a good amount of distance in between each for every family staying.

As Hongjoong parked the car, the view outside was so glorious you had to hold your breath. Glistening clear blue waves in the lake reflect the bright sunshine from above. A light breeze is present today with the way the willow and oak trees swayed gently.

“It’s beautiful” you gasped from as far as you got out of the car, stretching your upper body with eyes closed as you inhaled the fresh air.

Hongjoong stills his movements, shutting the door before replying with his gaze caught at your backside.

“Yeah, it is” he smiles.

Both of you turn around at a loud voice coming from behind. “We’re gonna explore the campsites and souvenir shops first!” Eunbyeol shouts as she runs away with her sister's hand in hers, towards the wooden cabin that's settled further away.

“What about lunch?” you call to them.

“We’re not hungry!”

Hongjoong tells them to be safe, and to stick around nearby. You smirked, helping him unload the trunk as you told him. “They’ll be fine. They’re probably too excited to even think right now” you giggled, bumping shoulders with him.

You feel the tension that was once so strong between you two fade slowly, walking up the wooden steps of your lodge and exchanging conversation with each other.

“Hey, I just want my babies to be safe” he admits, a grin on his face as he holds the cooler in his hands. You chuckle, shaking your head at his protectiveness.

“Here it is!” he exclaims, setting the suitcases in the front foyer as he opens the door. “Lodge number 1117”

The two story cottage is larger than it appears from the outside, having a modern yet rustic interior that you and Hongjoong admired. It had everything you would need, from a well designed kitchen area to a cozy living room space.

“It’s perfect, the kids will love it” you beam, looking at the hanging hammock chair in the corner of the living room and the gray stone fireplace. It fit perfectly for your family.

Hongjoong smiles, sunglasses perched on top of his head as he sets the luggage down near the kitchen. Walking up beside him, you help him unload the cooler and ice boxes first, settling into your new home for the next few days.

“I’m guessing you still drink?” you ask, looking in his direction as you unloaded the case of beer you saw him bring from the trunk.

He gestured to the booze. “C’mon, it wouldn’t be a vacation without it, would it?”

You wholeheartedly agreed, placing a few in the fridge before you shut it closed.

“Hopefully, this time we won’t end up shit faced like we did back in college” you laugh, turning to face him.

“I can already picture that time we got so drunk from that bottle of tequila my friend brought, we snuck out of the campsite and went to the forest and got lost.” you spoke, the memory a little foggy but nonetheless fresh in your mind.

Hongjoong smiles, listening as you speak.

“There wasn’t anything but trees and bushes in that forest!” You exclaimed, shaking your head. “What did we even do there?”

Hongjoong replies nonchalantly, folding the cardboard box in his hands.

“I’m pretty sure we fucked.”

You momentarily freeze at his words, before letting out a soft awkward laugh, causing him to look up.

“No we didn’t, Hongjoong” you immediately deny, not believing his words. But your brows began furrowing at the foggy memory, starting to realize you really couldn’t trust your alcohol tolerance, now as an adult and even back when you were a college student. Did you guys have sex? In a forest out of all places?

Hongjoong leans against the kitchen counter, across from you as he crosses his arms in front of his chest and smirks smugly.

“Nope, I distinctly remember it” he recalls, taking a step closer so he was now in your space.

“I held your hand in mind as we walked up that trail by the cliff. And gosh, were we horny that night, because I remember you complaining about all that dirt you got on your knees from giving me the greatest head i've ever experienced in my entire life-”

Slapping your hands over his mouth to stop him from going on, you blushed as you glared at him.

“Jesus christ,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes before confessing.

“I get it, we fucked.”

Suddenly, you and Hongjoong break out into giggles like varsity sweethearts again at the story. Though embarrassed and cringing internally from the way you acted as young adults, it was nice to share them together now. At the proximity in which you’re standing in, you can't help but stare at each other softly. A hand wraps around your waist, making your breath hitch as he pulls you closer.

“What are you doing?” you grin, watching him.

He looms over you, able to tell that something sits right at the tip of his tongue that he hesitantly decides to say. “I’m pretty sure,” he mutters, staring at your face and cautiously grazing the skin under your blouse. You feel your breathing speed up.

“I also held you like this in my arms as you were leaning against that tree” his grip gentle and immediately transporting you back to the scenery that night. His sharp tone contrasts his touch.

“Yknow, the one we fucked against?” he teases to you one more time.

The scent of burning campfire. A cold, midnight breeze. The feeling of the rough cedar tree against your back as Hongjoong thrusted inside you with every delirious snap of his hips, holding you close while he fucked you to oblivion with only the forest animals standing witness to your sinful actions. The film replays like a cheesy R-rated romance movie in your mind.

“Did you, now?” You gulp, looking up at him as you adjust to the foreign feeling of his touch on your hips.

“Yeah. I remember it all” he states, smirking down at you with an intense gaze.

The memory dies down when you catch yourself staring at his lips, arms finding their way around his neck as he dives down to whisper softly to you.

“Do you remember too?” He asks.

How he held you in his arms. How he whispered in your ear while you came around his cock, drool and traces of cum littering the corners of your mouth while Hongjoong didn’t care if you were stretching his flannel from how hard you were tugging at the material.

You nod. “I do,” you muttered, lashes fluttering as you felt as though your heart wouldn’t stop beating. “I remember you kissed me on the lips,” you confessed.

Perhaps you wanted him to do it again right now.

He looks in your eyes, searching for your approval that you desperately give, breath hitting each other's faces as he slowly leaned down to try and connect your lips. His chest is pressed against yours, and you begin to realize you haven’t shared the same breath like that in so long. You were so close to kissing right then and there.

If only you leaned in closer…

“We’re back!”

You push Hongjoong across the kitchen, shoving his hip painfully into the marble counter and ignoring his high-pitched groan of agony as you immediately look away to avoid suspicion, continuing to grab the beer from the icebox in front of you.

“Girls!” you exclaimed, voice wavering.

Of course, Eunbyeol and Eunseo walk in with matching postcards and goodies from the souvenir shop in their hands, their sunglasses perched on their heads as their eyes lit up with excitement. They were still oblivious to the fact that they almost caught their parents about to make out in the kitchen.

“Dad, this place is amazing!” Eunbyeol deadpans, telling her father. “They even have jet skiing on the other side of the lake! We gotta go now!”

Hongjoong clutches his hip, pursing his lips as he hides his expression of pain and surprise.

“Really? That's great sweetie”

Eunseo however, is quick to catch on.

“What were you guys doing?” she looks at you suspiciously. Her words hang in the air for a moment.

“Were you guys about to kis-”

Hongjoong and you frantically scurry to find a plausible excuse, shuffling awkwardly.

“I was helping your dad unload the cooler”

“I was helping your mom get something out of her eye”

Both girls stare at you meekly. Eunbyeol scrunches her nose. “Huh?”

Plastering on a fake smile, you briskly leaped over the luggage nearby, ushering them upstairs before they had the chance to ask anymore questions.

“I think it’s time to unpack your things.” you watched their eyebrows quirk at the way you pushed them out the kitchen.

“We can do it on our own, mom! It’s really no big d-”

You clamp Eunbyeol’s mouth shut with your hand, blushing profusely as you walk away with them.

Hongjoong stands there alone in the kitchen, rubbing his hip and wondering what the hell just almost happened.

The next few days, you and Hongjoong don’t discuss the incident between you two. Rather, the beginning of the trip after that event has become a painful performance trying your best to be eerily polite yet distant to each other in front of your children, as if that would make you forget the fact that you two almost kissed in the kitchen.

“Could you pass the sunscreen, honey?” Hongjoong would say awkwardly, turning his back to flash you a cheery smile on the lake deck as Eunbyeol and Eunseo watched you interact while floating in the cool, summer waters.

You passed the bottle to your ex-husband while maintaining awkward distance. “Of course, darling!”

“Thanks honey!”

“No problem sweetheart!”

This resulted in Eunbyeol and Eunseo looking at their parents in horror, the youngest twin muttering under her breath as they discussed an urgent change of plans.

“We have to get them to stop being weird.”

Apart from that, the ‘family bonding time’ promise to your daughters was maintained, and each day was an adventure for all of you in terms of what you would do together next. An accumulation of forest trekking, water-skiing and outdoors barbeques on the patio of your cottage made everyday feel more and more special for your girls, seeing how they relished in having both their parents with them at the same place and time. It became moments of peace and resolution that eventually became special for you and Hongjoong too.

“I hope we stay here forever,” Eunseo blurted out one evening after a blissful day near the lakeshore, watching as the sun began to go down. She was busy licking the sticky sides of her melting ice cream cone in one hand, the other one held in yours.

Hongjoong and Eunbyeol were a few feet ahead, laughing loudly and holding hands as they compared their fruit popsicles with one another to see whose was bigger.

“You and Byeol would eventually get sick of going to the lake all the time” You smiled, the corners of your mouth turning up before her next words made the strings of your heart tug.

“Sure, but at least you and dad could be together with us too.”

You watched as she ran up to her sister and dad, joining in on their fun as she began boasting that her ice cream was better than theirs. Hongjoong’s smile is the biggest you’ve ever seen it to be, looking down at his girls with a golden tan from the past few days spent outside, and hair slightly damp from swimming.

Any person could tell the love in his eyes was as pure a father’s love for his girls could be.

Her words stuck with you until that very night, where after dinner, board games, and much pacing back and forth in your own room before getting into bed, you decided to cautiously approach Hongjoong’s room on the opposite side of the second floor.

Bare feet padded across the wooden floors as you peeked through the sliver of the open door.

He's wearing an oversized sleep tee and blue pajama pants, getting in some nighttime reading before bed. His glasses are perched on his nose, intently reading his paperback novel. He looks as domestic as a husband gets.

At the sound of your steps though, he sits up from his relaxed state on his bed, one arm that was supporting his head coming out as the other hand settles the book down on his abdomen. He looks surprised to see you.

“Hi” he states, looking at you.

“Hey”

Hongjoong’s expression immediately softened at your figure, watching as you shuffled awkwardly in front of him. The room is quiet.

“Can I come in?”

“Of course,” He nods, setting his bookmark in the spine of the cover and turning his attention to you, offering you to take a seat on his linen covers. You see his polaroid camera with photos taken of Eunbyeol and Eunseo perched on a desk nearby.

You don’t see the ones he secretly took of you, as those are in his drawers.

“Don’t tell me you can’t sleep by yourself” he gently teases before watching as your smile doesn't reach the ends of your eyes. You wrap your silk robe closer to your body, feeling sort of vulnerable.

“How do you like the resort so far?” He asks, watching as you played with your fingers absentmindedly. “Is the room okay?”

“It’s wonderful Hongjoong, better than I could ever have hoped for.” You spoke up, telling the truth.

It’s hard to arrange your thoughts in your head when it’s just the two of you in his room. The kids were already fast asleep. Now was your chance to just tell him how you felt. Why were you hesitating so much?

“Hey, look at me.” Hongjoong’s soft voice calls out to you, a protective hand coming out to caress the back of your head in habit. He can tell you want to say something, and the gesture makes you emotional, remembering how he always used to do that to ease your nerves when you were younger.

“What’s wrong? Am I making things uncomfortable on the trip?” he worries about the boundaries you established with him at the beginning, watching as your lip begins to quiver and the emotions suddenly overcome you.

“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” you sniffled, tears forming near the brim of your eyes as you looked up at the father of your children.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, shifting through the covers over to you. “Woah, hey, shh that’s alright I got you” he coos, immediately going into dad mode and embracing you in his arms, letting your head rest against his chest.

The action is natural, no longer foreign or weird, and you silently thank him for leaving reassuring circles on your back. Husband or not, Hongjoong would always be your best friend first. You had forgotten how much you missed this comforting side to him.

“Tell me what you’re sorry about” he states, chest tightening at your wet cheeks before he slowly raises your chin to look him in the eyes.

“For being mean to you for so long” you sniffle, a weakened state of emotional guilt eating away at you. You let him watch you carefully.

“I’ve been thinking about how happy the girls have been during this trip. A-And it kills me that we’ve been fighting for the past seven years, and that they’ve grown up seeing such bad parts of ourselves, of my own self” you ramble, confessing how you felt.

You look up. “They’re happy because we’re together Joong. Because we’re not fighting or avoiding each other like we used to do before.”

He watches as you look up at him with tears forming in your eyes.

“You’re such a good dad. And I realized you deserve to hear that.”

At the sounds of more sniffles, Hongjoong finally speaks, smiling as he brushes stray hair from your face.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else but you to be the mother of our children, I hope you know that”

His truthfulness throws you off guard.

“I’m sorry too” he sighs, letting you sit up straight and look him in the eyes properly. “I haven’t been the best partner either, baby. We were both mean to each other.” he says, brushing a tear away from your face.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve thrown a hair dryer at me once before as well” he attempts to make you laugh, affection blooming in his chest when he sees he succeeds, wiping your tears.

“But I already knew how you felt, sweetheart. I always know” he smiles, eyes mirroring a weak ache in his heart.

“Married or not, we were once friends. And now we’re family” His voice turns deep, strong and dependable like the father he’s become.

“We can start over” you tell him, smiling as he folds his hands over your palm. “We can always do better from now and going forward. For ourselves, and for Eunseo and Eunbyeol.”

Hongjoong nods, hesitantly for a split second before he leans over to press a soft kiss to your cheek, showing a gesture of affection that you longed for so long.

You shut your eyes, the kiss making your heart flutter.

“Friends again?” He whispers, though silently wanting something more.

You sighed, pulling him in closer to embrace in a hug. “Friends” you nodded while inhaling his comforting scent.

The next morning, and for the rest of the remaining trip onwards, you and Hongjoong’s relationship dynamics did the equivalent of a 180 degree turn.

It’s hard to believe you two really just wanted to be ‘friends’

Eunbyeol and Eunseo could tell by the way you talked to each other more, noticing you share more secret glances and fleeting touches that were innocent to the eye, but concealing a longing that you both tried to hide. You knew you couldn’t get carried away. You and Hongjoong were simply resolving a rough patch in your parenting. Not getting back together in a relationship.

But after spending more time together while Eunbyeol and Eunseo became occupied on their own, it was hard keeping the interactions to a justified amount. Long walks in the forest, evenings spent cooking together, even cuddling together on the couch during family movie night. Thinking your kids were too busy watching the vintage Disney movie play on screen, when in fact, the real love story they were more invested in was happening right in front of their eyes, watching their parents falling in love again.

This led to the last event in their plan that they hoped would finally seal the deal.

On Saturday night, the last night of your trip before you had to go back to the city, you and Hongjoong are surprised to find mini invitations left on your beds, scribbled in glitter pen and cursive handwriting reading out the following:

Gourmet Dinner Date for 2

Time: 7:30 pm

Location: Outdoor patio

Dress code: Formal and Classy

You and your husband chuckled at the cards left on your beds, suddenly finding a twin each by your side and ushering you to get ready.

“Do you and your sister even know how to cook dinner, Eunbyeol?” You questioned as your daughter rushed to push you into your walk-in closet, forcing you to get ready.

She huffs, placing her hands on her hips looking offended.

“At least my cooking skills don’t take after Dad’s, mom.” She mumbled, choosing your shoes for you. “Have some trust in a girl!”

Meanwhile, Hongjoong gets pampered by Eunseo in the other room, though in reality, her blunt critiques on her dads fashion are bruising his pride at the moment.

“Dad, you have many normal clothes to wear. You have to chill with the ripped baggy jeans.” she demands, trudging through his closet to find something formal for him to wear.

He begins to protest but his daughter shakes her head. “You’re supposed to look good for mom!” she huffs, searching on her own. At Eunseo’s words, the man starts to slightly worry, scratching the back of his head.

“You and Byeol are gonna join too, right?”

She stops for a second, looking back to her father as she avoids the question and instead retorts back.

“It’s just a date, Dad. Relax”

Back to what was happening in the other room at the end of the hallway, you huffed in frustration when you walked back into your closet after Byeol rejected another one of your outfits for the dinner date.

“I have nothing else to wear, sweetie, these are all the clothes I have.” you came to terms with a hand coming to your forehead after having searched in despair.

The ten year old shakes her head before pushing you out of the way and digging deep into your suitcase. She reveals a delicate piece of material you didn’t even realize you packed.

“We got some help from Aunt Sophie and Uncle Hwa to pack you guys clothes that you could wear for a special occasion.” she wiggles her eyebrows, a smug grin on her face as you gap in shock.

You inspect the dress, lips parting in disbelief as you feel the material.

“I haven’t worn this since I was in college.” You uttered softly to yourself.

At one longing look of the short dress, you shake your head, walking back into the closet to find something else. “I-I can’t wear this Byeol, what would your dad think?“ you asked nervously.

“Dad said he thinks your boobs looked hot in this dress so Aunt Sophie and I picked it specially” she looks up at you, proud of what she just said.

You whip your head around, mouth hanging open in shock.

“Byeol! Where did you hear that from?”

She sighs. “Dad had one too many drinks this one time and started talking about you guys back in college” she explained before shoving the infamous black dress in your hands.

“Talked a lot about how pretty you were,” she draws out her words in a teasing voice. You curse your husband for his mistake.

You bite your lip as you stare down at the fabric in your hands.

It was undeniable. You knew you looked amazing in this dress. You could testify from the amount of times Hongjoong ripped it off of you after countless night out’s filled with sexual tension and playful flirting. For god's sake, Eunbyeol and Eunseo could’ve almost had another sibling thanks to that dress.

“Fine.” you muttered bashfully, turning away as you walked into the closet to change.

“But I’m just gonna try it on.”

Thirty minutes, one mental breakdown and too many outfit changes to count later, you walk down the stairs wearing the dress Eunbyeol had successfully persuaded you to wear.

What do you know, the kid was right. Your boobs looked amazing in that dress.

Not just your boobs, your whole body looked incredible with its strong curves and the beautiful fill it gave to the dress, making it slightly tighter than when you wore it as a twenty year old, but still all the more mature and sophisticated. You really did look hot.

Eunbyeol rushes down the stairs before you, catching up with her sister to inspect her job on their fathers preparation.

“Well?” She says expectedly, looking at her dad. “Let’s take a look!”

He sports a simple yet timeless white collar dress shirt, the first few buttons undone as he wears a form fitting black dress-vest that accentuates his waist, dress pants paired to go along with it. Though simple, his silver rings pulled the outfit together, making him just as good looking and sophisticated as you were.

Hongjoong’s back faces towards your front, watching as the man nervously shuffles his hands in his pockets.

“How do I look guys?” He gulps, adjusting his collar and sweeping his blond hair back.

Eunseo rolls her eyes, a grin on her proud little face. “Do you even have to ask, dad?” She’s more than confident in the outfit she and Seonghwa coordinated together.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he nervously tells them.

“I want to look good for your mom, you know what I mean? She's a difficult woman to impress sometimes.”

“I’m difficult?” You tease, walking down the last few steps of the stairs.

The man turns his head around, losing his breath at the sight of you standing there in front of him, wearing that dress that he hadn’t seen you wear for so long, looking breathtaking in every possible way.

“Hi” you grinned softly, feeling sort of shy.

The way you fit in that dress made an insatiable hunger fuel inside Hongjoongs chest, eyes gazing at the way you strutted over in the black, lace covered material with your hair tied back and glossed lips turned upwards as your dimples showed. He breaks from his admiration when you quirk a brow at him, making the man almost fall to his knees and stutter uncontrollably.

“I-I No I didn’t mean that-“

You giggle as you bravely take Hongjoongs hands in your own, shutting him up as you turn to your daughters standing in front of you, starstruck at your aura.

“Outside, right?” you winked at them.

“Right this way!” Eunseo enthusiastically leads you out back to the outdoor patio, a perfect view of the garden and lakeside coming into effect. Hongjoong slips his hand from yours, and slides it across your waist, pulling you into his side.

“My parents are too cool” Eunbyeol sighs under her breath, watching from behind in awe.

Your ex-husband makes you swoon when he leans in to whisper softly. “You look breathtaking, sweetheart.” feeling an immense sense of pride at how lucky he was to make you the mother of his children.

You blush, turning to him to whisper playfully back.

“Not bad yourself.”

You both look forward when you come to a stop at the patio steps, sheer amazement at the full preparation your daughters did for this event. Fairy lights were hung around the area, a table with two chairs on either side placed with a white table cloth and a bouquet of freshly hand picked flowers from the forest, battery powered candles that were sold at the souvenir shop lit in the middle and glowing softly.

Eunbyeol dashes to the door when it rings, making you and Hongjoong furrow your brows.

“Is someone here?” he asks, watching Eunseo fold a napkin over her arm like the pro waiter she was. The other one walks out, an oily fast food paper bag in her hands as she smiles. “Dinner is served!”

“Turns out that diner 15 minutes away also delivers!” She chuckled, helping her sister plate the two cheeseburgers, fries, and vanilla and strawberry milkshakes.

You and Hongjoong continue to watch in stunned amazement as the girls prepare the not exactly gourmet(?) but still impressive meal in front of you, their small hands working swiftly.

“You guys prepared all of this?” You asked, getting a little emotional. They grin proudly, nodding their heads. “We called the place earlier and planned it all by ourselves!”

You pressed a kiss to each of their soft cheeks, thanking them both as Hongjoong did the same.

“What did I do to get so lucky with my girls?” he smiles, ruffling their heads.

“What about you guys?” You asked, watching as they slowly backed away to give you two some privacy.

“Natalie and her mom invited us over for dinner and a sleepover tonight at her cottage,” Eunbyeol smiles. At the mention of their newly made friend that they had gotten close to over the week, Hongjoong looks at you then back at them.

“What? But- ”

She cuts him off, rolling her eyes. “Her mom said it’s totally fine with her. She’s only two cottages down, and she’ll make sure we’re back in time again for tomorrow when we leave!”

The two girls smile in excitement, though the both of you have your parental instincts kick in.

“Please?” they begged, wanting you to let them go so that they could do this for you guys as much as they wanted to do it for themselves. “She’s waiting for us now!”

Hongjoong feels guilty. “C’mon, you guys should still join us!”

Eunseo immediately shakes her head, declining the offer.

“Tonight is all about you guys. We don’t want to intrude” she chuckles, bumping shoulders with her sister who chips in.

“We’ll text you guys in the middle to let you know everything’s good of course”

You and Hongjoong smile, a feeling of immense proudness overwhelming you from seeing your daughters act so grown up. There wasn’t anything else you felt grateful for more.

“Thank you girls.” you muttered softly, watching as they flashed you a wink before hurrying out through the backyard door.

“Don’t get all kissy in the backyard!” Eunbyeol teases, making cheesy smooching sounds with the back of her hand as her sister rolls her eyes and shoves her out.

Before you know it, you’re left standing with just the sound of smooth jazz playing on the patio speakers and the buzzing of the summer cicadas.

“She takes after you, I hope you know that” You told Hongjoong softly.

He chuckles, “Not as much as you.” He gestures to the table. “Shall we?”

And that’s how the next few hours seem to pass by without even realizing.

You see, there was a reason why you fell in love with the man sitting in front of you, and you’re just beginning to remember it now. Being with Hongjoong felt as if the moment was everlasting, and you could testify that from the amount of laughter and deep conversation that was shared over dinner, bringing you to sit on that patio until the sun had set. Every so often you’d smile again at the thought of the twins preparing this all for you.

“I don’t remember the last time I’ve been on a date like this” You blurted out after laughing about something, taking a sip of your strawberry milkshake through a straw.

“Oh, so we’re going on dates now, are we?” Hongjoong grins, making you roll your eyes at him.

You lean forward on the table cloth, watching as a glimmer passes through your husband’s eyes while he sits back in his chair, cocking his head to the side as he clears his voice.

“But you’ve gone on dates after we split, haven’t you?” he asks, leaning forward in interest now, letting his chin rest on his palm.

You shook your head slowly.

“Nope. Not since signing those papers” you revealed.

Hongjoong furrows his brows in surprise. “And why’s that?”

You suddenly didn’t have an answer. “I-I don’t know, I just…” You began, watching how he looked at you with an unreadable expression. You smiled, looking down and suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“I guess I was too focused on running the bridal shop, I couldn’t find the time to.” You use as a cliche excuse.

“Bullshit” he retorts back immediately.

“It’s true!” You protested, throwing a fry at him that he dodges, landing on his finished plate.

“You always did say back when we were younger that you wanted to be a designer. And look at you now” he admires, letting the candle lights shine a youthful glow to your face.

“You always said you wanted to become a music producer and write your own songs.” you reciprocated, smiling as you soaked in the presence of one another. “And here you are now.”

You think for a moment before asking the same question.

“How about you?”

Hongjoong silently shakes his head as his answer, though silently thinking about something else. The music changes to some old Billy Joel song in the back. You don’t realize it, but Hongjoong smiles to himself when he realizes the girls added it to the playlist. Of course they had to, it was one of the songs you played at your wedding.

“What were we thinking when we got married like that?” You asked out loud, looking at how far you’d both come. You definitely skipped some of the order of the stages of a normal relationship.

“I mean, we had no money, no prospects. Hell, we didn’t even have a car, Hongjoong!” you realized.

Your husband laughs, sitting straight and letting some skin show through his unbuttoned collar.

“We were young” he justifies.

“Yeah, and stupid too,” you pointed out, feeling the summer breeze pass by. It felt good to sit here like this with him.

You wondered, could sitting here like this with Hongjoong be a regular thing? After this trip, would you be able to walk back into each other’s lives again like this?

As both parents and lovers?

Hongjoong brings up something you wouldn’t have expected him to.

“Do you remember when we first found out about Eunseo and Eunbyeol?” he questioned softly, looking at you.

You blink, taken aback. Suddenly you’re back in your college dorm washroom, sobs wracking through your body as Hongjoong who had only just sent his first few mixtapes to recording stations and companies nearby, pulled you close into his chest, eyeing the two lines left on the counter while he caressed your back. Only twenty years old and figuring out what you wanted to do with your lives, you were suddenly stuck in a sudden situation that had made you feel like your dreams would have been given up on completely.

“I do,” you told him, pulling yourself from the memory.

“I remember because in that moment I felt like the whole world was caving in”. You laughed, though it wasn’t fully cheerful.

“I don’t regret it, though” Hongjoong replies after some thought, gazing at you with truth in his eyes.

You shook your head. “Of course. Neither do I.”

It was a blessing to have two beautiful daughters as the product of your love.

“I don’t regret you either.” Hongjoong states.

You lock gazes, unable to take your eyes off of his face.

“I loved you when I first met you and I still loved you when we divorced,” he says all at once, making your breath hitch and heart waver.

“Don’t say that.” you tell him, looking away and suddenly reminding yourself you’re still divorced from the man sitting in front of you.

How could he still love you after all this time? How could you feel the same about him?

Hongjoong continues, shaking his head as he bites back the lodge in his throat and makes up his mind. He has to tell you.

“Truthfully, I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.”

Don’t do this to me you begged silently.

“I’ve hurt you just as much as you’ve hurt me.” He swallows, thinking back to the times you already knew he was referring to. The times where you fought to the point where there wasn’t even anything worth fighting for anymore.

“But you have given me the greatest gifts of my life.” He smiles, holding his tears back.

“And for that I will always love you.”

You push your seat from the table, suddenly feeling overwhelmed and wanting to avoid him.

“I can’t do this anymore.” you dejected, walking away from the patio and from Hongjoong.

There wasn’t anything else you could fake anymore. You couldn’t bear to hear the man you once loved, possibly even still love, say these things like he had a dagger lodged in his heart. Didn’t he know he was only going to do the same to you?

Hongjoong is quick to catch up, holding onto your wrist and turning you around, that your back collides with the nearest wall inside, pressing your fronts together and closing the distance.

“Why do you always run away from me? From the possibility of us?” He exclaimed, voice breaking. His heart crushed at the way you turned your head, hot tears already clouding your vision.

“Because ‘us’ can’t happen again, Hongjoong!” You cried, staring up at the man you once promised your life to.

“Don’t you get it? Us going on this trip isn’t a sign to get back together. What would we do seven years after breaking up?”

“We could do it” He states firmly, staring you down, both your chests heaving.

You bite your tears back again. “No we couldn’t, honey. We would be pretending to think we solved our marriage. What would we do about our daughters? After putting them through our constant fighting— ”

He slams his lips to your own, shutting you up as you painfully resist his touch. Your hands came up to push him away, but at the sudden gesture, you’re already giving in and sobbing softly, letting him hold you for just one last time.

Your lips mold so perfectly, it almost hurts how much you missed this feeling. To have him slot his arms around your waist, pull you in close, and cherish you. You almost forgot this feeling.

He pulls away softly, watching your lashes flutter, pleading to you for a chance as he leans closer, making your breath hitch.

“We could be together as a family again,” he states firmly, your name leaving his lips in a desperate plea. “We never know if we try—”

You drown out his words, looking up with tears falling as you cut him off.

“Seven years ago I gave you those papers to sign, thinking that you would’ve chased after me,”

Hongjoong holds his breath, watching as the next words stumble from your mouth.

“I realize now, how stupid I was to think that.”

“I didn’t know you wanted me to chase you”

Shoving his chest away while mustering the last of your strength you uttered. “Of course I wanted you to chase me.” You let go of his hands. “It’s too late either way”, walking away from the defeated man.

Hongjoong stands alone near the patio entrance, watching his tears fall to the wooden floorboards. Holding the ring he had kept hidden in his trouser pocket, he plays with it in his fingers, silently wishing he had given it to you sooner.

It rains the next morning on your departure back to the city. Perfect, considering it reflects the sudden storm of utter depression that falls upon your family. Long gone are the cheerful giggles and longing stares that were shared between you and Hongjoong during the ride to the cottage.

There was no room for that, not after last night.

Eunbyeol and Eunseo sat slumped in the backseat, rain hitting the roof of the car as they mindlessly played on their cell phones. Really, they were peeking from behind every so often and watching their parents sit in the front seat with tension so thick, you could’ve cut it with a knife.

What had they done wrong? They planned the trip, the activities, the dinner— it was all perfect. And yet why were you still fighting with each other?

These questions racked in their brains, baffled to have witnessed the sight of their parents refusing to talk to each other after walking back from their friends' sleepover.

Eunbyeol and Eunseo felt as useful as matchmakers without a couple, feeling their efforts all gone down the drain.

At the sudden ring of your cell phone, you pick up, answering at the voice of your assistant.

“I’m driving back up right now”

Hongjoong continues focusing on the road, the occasional wiping of rain from the windshield wipers on the front window.

“Yes. That’s okay, I'll take care of it.” You muttered, glancing at the rear view mirror for a moment. Your twin daughters immediately sigh, having an idea of what to expect when you say those familiar words.

“Thanks for letting me know.”

You hang up the phone,

“One of us isn’t going with you, are we?” Eunseo asks, making you look back at her with a sigh.

“No, you’re not” You confess, apologetic. ‘I’m sorry honey. I really am.”

You look back facing the front, swallowing as you told Hongjoong.

“You’ll have to drop me off at the studio. Some things aren’t working out with the client so they need me to come in and take care of it.”

He nods, unphased as he continues to look straight.

“Will you be fine with the girls?” You asked carefully, watching them as they were slumped in the backseat.

Hongjoong grips the wheel before turning to you.

“I‘ll be fine. Don’t worry about it” sending a small smile, though it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

The twins thank god that at least neither of them had to choose to go back home with either parent.

They would’ve hated that more.

After barely being able to depart and say goodbye to your daughters in front of your studio, holding them close for a warm embrace and thanking them for an unforgettable weekend, Hongjoong drives off with his daughters, an empty feeling cascading his thoughts. He puts on a smile still, trying to cheer up his girls.

“What do you want to do first when we go home? Want to unpack and then eat? We can eat and then unpack. Or we could- ”

Eunseo crosses her arms, having been fed up for far too long.

“Dad, you must be out of your mind.”

Hongjoong stills, furrowing his brows and peeking at the first born who crosses her arms, holding an attitude.

“Eunseo, what are you- ”

“You’re telling me you and Mom just spent a whole entire week together at the cottage, had the best time of your lives since separating with one another, and now you’re just going to go back to not speaking or talking to each other again?”

Hongjoong blinks at his daughter’s sudden outburst, already making a turn into the driveway of his house.

Eunbyeol now reciprocates her twin, looking at her dad as she slouches beside him, coming near the front seat area.

“She’s got a point dad. Do you really just not love mom anymore?” She worries, looking up at him genuinely concerned.

Hongjoong doesn’t know how to answer these sudden questions right now, stuttering to reply.

“Me and your mother are fine!” He lies, trying to reassure them. “That trip wasn’t just for us, it was also for you two to enjoy— ”

Eunseo asks the million dollar question.

“If you still love Mom, why are you letting her go a second time?”

With the engine turned off, it's gone silent. Two pairs of eyes staring at their father, awaiting his response.

“Well? Are you going to chase after her or not?!” Eunbyeol groans, her fathers lack of response making her pull her hair.

They were right. How could he have made the same stupid mistake twice?

Hongjoong struggles to put the keys back in the engine, telling them to put their seat belts back on. Their eyes begin to glow with hope.

“Do you girls mind staying at your uncle’s for a bit?” He asks hurriedly, punching into his cell phone to call his brother for a favor as he pulls out of the driveway. Eunbyeol squeals, hands clamping over her mouth as her sister speaks on behalf of them both.

“Dad, if you don’t drop us off and get your butt over to mom’s right away, I’m gonna report you to child services.” she threatens, watching as he steps on the accelerator, heart pumping so fast as he smiles through the rear view mirror.

You sighed, holding up your cellphone to your ear.

“Call me once she approves the design then,” you told your assistant through the receiver, one hand looking over the sheets of paper, highlighting the changes to the new blueprint.

“Alright then, bye.”

After hanging up the phone, you rubbed your temples, head pounding as you tucked the files back into the folder.

The clock in your studio showed the hands about to reach seven pm. A few hours had already passed since coming back from your trip to the cottage, trying to forget everything by burying your focus into the new dress prints a client of yours requested, remodeling them after the original was rejected.

Fingers worked away swiftly, comparing textiles and fabrics as you looked at the piles of papers and messy sticky notes in front of you. But yet the gears in your mind seemed to churn achingly slow, sighing as you repeatedly told yourself the same thing.

Just focus on the dress, focus on the dress, focus on the dress.

Don’t think about him.

The task is impossible. Your mind can’t help but slip back to what your relationship has become with Hongjoong, and what you were going to do now that those seven days were over. For so long you had deprived yourself from indulging in your love life, prioritizing taking care of Eunseo and Eunbyeol while juggling your job as a designer. Had you been doing it all wrong?

Hongjoong’s words repeat in your head like a broken record player.

I will always love you

Lies. That promise couldn’t be kept. Your divorce was a clear outcome of it. You and Hongjoong were two people not meant for one another. You were too different, all you would do is hurt one another, make life an unbearable living hell—

And yet you missed him. You missed Hongjoong so much.

What was fucking keeping you from loving him? Was it your stubbornness? Was it really the fact that he didn’t chase after you? Or was it none of that and just your own self being stupid?

The front door of the studio opens, pulling you from your thoughts as you got back to the sketches. You called up from your desk as you worked quietly.

“The studios closed for the- ”

Heavy breathing. The man who just walked in catches his breath from dashing out of his car and up the three flights of stairs, driving through almost an hour of traffic in pouring rain to be here in this moment with you.

“Hongjoong?”

He’s drenched, making a mess on the floor of the studio as the droplets fall softly one by one.

Suddenly he's striding over to where you’re sitting in long steps before slamming his lips against yours. The kiss throws you off guard, the shock of his cold hands cradling your face makes you close the gap unknowingly.

Linking your arms around his neck while kissing back passionately, you let your hands rest on his shoulders, pulling back for air as you panted heavily, catching your breaths and looking at each other with pure love and lust.

“Why are you here?” you asked, feeling dumb because your heart already knew the answer. His hands wrap around your waist, desperate as if you would leave him again.

But he’s just so fucking tired of that now. He just wants to love you now.

“I lost you once.” He breathes, eyes watering.

“I’m not going to lose you again”.

Suddenly, everything that kept you from being with each other is thrown away.

That hate, that fear, everything is gone because you realize you still needed each other. You’re still the same twenty year old couple standing in that dorm washroom, holding each other close and knowing it’ll be okay because at least you had each other.

You grasp onto his damp shirt, pulling him down with such force that your lips meet again, taking charge as you finally allowed him to have you.

“You’re a fucking idiot” you whined between kisses, curses escaping your lips when he softly bites the flesh of your neck to test the waters. “I hope you know that”

He agrees wholeheartedly, nodding as if he was already getting pussydrunk.

“I’m an idiot” he mumbles to himself, letting it escape his lips like a mantra. Well, he was stupid enough to only chase after you this late, so if his wife told him he was an idiot, then so he was.

“Let me prove how much I love you,” a hand comes to graze near the collar of your shirt.

You gasped, watching as Hongjoong lifted you from your seat and rutted his hips against your core pathetically, your ass digging into the edge of the table.

“Here?” Your eyes widened, watching his expression turn dark. He presses kisses on your collarbone, making your hands grasp the wood for support. “Hongjoong wait,” you exhaled in a deep breath, heart beating against your chest.

But he doesn’t give a shit. He’s tired of waiting.

“It’s been too fucking long” he protests, ripping your top off. You’re dizzy from how abruptly he’s stripping you, latching onto his shoulders for support as you wobble from him unzipping your jeans and pushing them down, exposing you in nothing but your underwear and bra.

And like the good little whore you are, you immediately spread your legs, letting Hongjoong get a view of the embarrassingly wet patch leaking through your panties as he’s crouched down to let you step out of the denim near your ankles.

Holy fucking shit

You stand bashfully, toes curling from how exposed and vulnerable you were being the only one naked.

“Please?” you asked nicely, letting your foot rest on his shoulder as your pussy was now on full display for him.

You don’t have time to even finish the last word before Hongjoong dives in, lapping at your soaking cunt and humming in pure ecstasy at the taste. The muffled vibrations make you throw your head back, tugging on his locks to shove his face further.

Hongjoong’s hands press into your thighs that cage his head in, leaving a grip that you guarantee with littering the flesh with red splotchy bruises. Did you mind? Not at all.

When his tongue pokes at the gummy flesh of your walls, you let out a full moan, echoing throughout the studio as the air begins to smell like sex.

“Right there, yes” you urged him, leg beginning to shake from how weak it was getting.

He's so invested, you fear he might suffocate any longer if he doesn’t pull back for air. So you grasp his head, pushing him away from his meal while you both gasped lightly.

You watch him wipe his slick covered chin with the back of his hand, not breaking eye contact as he stares.

“You were just begging to be fucked for all these years, weren’t you sweetheart?” He teases.

Though you wanted him to lap at your juices until you came, you knew you needed to still feel his cock inside after so long.

Your fingers played with the hem of your underwear, smiling back at your husband.

“And you were just begging to get a taste of this pussy, weren’t you, Joong?” wiping that smug grin off his face.

”Lay down for me” he demands, getting up so that one hand finds its way to the back of your bra to unclasp it. The other clears half your desk covered in wedding dress blueprints and sketches, making sure nothing would make you uncomfortable before he fucked you on that mahogany surface so all you’d remember would be his name.

And people said romance was dead.

When the bra slides off and your bare back hits your desk, you suddenly realize what Hongjoong’s intention was when he ordered you to do that.

Soft mounds spill out as your breasts take their natural form, giving Hongjoong the perfect view of your tits. Pervert.

He immediately latches his tongue on a nipple, taking his hand and playing with the other, twisting painfully.

A cry escapes your lips, parting them open as you let him play with them as much as he wanted to. He smiles against the motherfuckers, knowing that shut you up perfectly.

“Are you ready for me to fuck you now?”

“Please, Joong, I need you” you whined, submitting yourself to your husband. He already knows you’re in need of one last kiss, coming up to give his wife what she wants by slotting his lips against yours again, this time much harsher.

“Tell me so that I treat you good, baby” he mumbles, pulling back and making you clench your thighs together. He undoes his shirt in the meantime, unbuckling his belt and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek when you sobbed.

“Fuck me, please”

His fingers slide your panties to the side to press his aching tip to your wet core.

“Like this?” He teases.

“Inside, Hongjoong” you emphasized, meaning what you said with the way your nails dug into a pile of papers nearby. Biting your lip from how sensitive and needy your cunt was.

“I know, I know,” he murmured, smiling to himself after messing with you.

“I just missed this pretty cunt” before in one strong thrust, Hongjoong’s bulging tip enters inside your walls, giving you a stretch you forgot how much you loved. You whined softly.

“Shit” he curses, relishing how the buildup finally led to this moment.

The man is ravenous, but he’s genuinely trying his best to ease the painful stretch as you adjust to his thickness, nipping your neck in a trail of hickeys and love bites posessively.

With every thrust he makes, you arch your back, pencils and papers shuffling near by you.

“Fucking look at my wife” he admires proudly, watching the woman he loves bounce her tits at every thrust of his cock.

“S’too much” you caved in, shaking your head at the stimulation.

You claw at his arms, head turning to the side as your eyes roll back from pleasure.

“I know, mama, I know”

He grabs a tit in his left hand, the right one coming down to play with your clit, pressing slow circles near where you were connected.

“Fuck, I missed these” He rasps, savouring the feeling of your soft flesh in his hand, making you throw your head back.

“Missed how they looked when you were pregnant” he says, thinking of how ethereal you looked when you were knocked up with his kids.

“God, at this point I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant again” Hongjoong grunts, snapping his hips deliriously back and forth. He envisions you round and full, fulfilling his inner fantasy.

“Shut up.” You spat, breaking the mood as you bit your lip to suppress a moan. He almost laughs when you then crane your hips back to give him easier access to keep penetrating you. The desk shuffles.

“Your mouth is saying one thing, honey, but your body is saying something else”

After hearing his words, you suck him in further, both of you now getting close.

“M’close. M’so close!” you whimpered, sitting up so that now Hongjoong could hold you in his arms, caging your body so his cock could stuff you better.

Your mouth hangs open in silent bliss, hands scratching his back. You leaned into his ear, making the final chord inside him snap.

“Make me cum, daddy”

And just like that, you’re clenching around Hongjoong’s massive cock as a creamy white ring begins to form. Hot ropes fill you up inside, tangled in a sweaty mess as he purrs, caressing the back of your head again in habit.

“So fucking good, sweetheart. You did so good for me”

The sounds of your breathing fill the studio, a pencil or two rolling quietly away on the ground from being shoved off the desk. He shakes his head when you try to pull your sweaty bodies away, hair sticking to your neck but feeling the way he refuses.

“Just let me love you,” he mumbles into your shoulder, dick softening inside you. “Just for a moment.”

You’re too tired to say anything back, so you finally give in.

Seven years passed by you two without even realizing how much you still loved each other. Though you wouldn’t be able to get that time back, for once, there was something that you and Hongjoong agreed upon.

You had no intention of wasting that time any more.

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:

Months later, and it still takes everything in Eunbyeol and Eunseo hearts to not scream at the sight of their parents when they walk hand in hand, smiling happily in public as they pick their daughters up from the first day of school.

The girls jump into their parent’s embrace, eying the two silver rings they now wore proudly together.

“How was school, darlings?” Hongjoong asks, pressing a kiss to Eunseo and Eunbyeol.

“It was fun! We watched a documentary about lovebirds” she smiled, looking back up. You laughed softly.

“Which reminded me to tell you,” she grins, watching as you, her sister, and father all looked at her.

“I hope you know that getting you and dad back together was my plan from the start.” she confesses, smirking at Eunbyeol who scoffs, crossing her arms.

“Nuh uh, this was my idea first!”

Before her sister could yell at her twin, you jumped in.

“Plan? What plan?” You asked quizzically, both you and Hongjoong standing there confused.

“To get you guys to fall back in love again, of course!” Eunseo smiles, both her and her sister now giggling softly together.

“How am I just finding out that there was a plan?” Hongjoong mutters, scratching his neck in confusion. You turned to the two girls, stopping in your tracks on your way to the car

“When did you two even think of all this?” grinning in astonishment as you felt Hongjoong slot his hand and intertwine it with yours. It felt natural now.

“Yeah, I'm curious too” he states, leaning close and becoming intrigued.

Your daughters look at each other before smiling.

“It’s a long story.”

But at last, time is something you finally now have as a reunited family of four, walking back to your car, holding hands with a twin on each side.

Listening carefully, as your daughters start from the very beginning.

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